Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“But if you keep it, every time you listen to it…you’ll be happy you know?”

She meticulously peels away the plastic, and the Guns N’ Roses premium set unfolds like origami: 7 CDs, many rare postcards, leaflets, and posters in glossy glory, spread out neatly across her bed, forming an impressive display of the day’s prize.

Aya lets herself smile as she thinks of the person who won it for her. She wants to gush, but instead settles for her evening listening ritual. It’ll have to be enough, to process the specialness of the day with these music greats.

She starts with a bath, then don pink-striped PJs from Gelato Pique, her strawberry hair blowdried and clipped back with an oversized fuzzy claw clip. Her bare face is dewy, make up having been removed, skin double-cleansed, and slathered thickly with night cream.

She thinks about lighting a candle too, but decides a lamp is sufficient for now. The CDs all patiently lined up, waiting to be savoured like a multi-course meal.

Carefully, she secures the first disk, lifting only with thumb and index finger on the sides, and lowers it into her CD stereo system, a grandiosity of a system she had gotten on Jimoty for practically nothing a couple of years back — around the time when she’d first gotten into western music.

She had secretly met with the seller on a day her parents weren’t home, risking that it could be some creepy weird old dude and almost resigning to the fact that it probably was because of how guilty she felt for acquiring something that cool for so little. Thankfully the seller had turned out to be a nice recent college student that just wanted to downsize their belongings, and was sweet enough to bring it to Aya’s house directly and even help her set it up after seeing how new to it she was.

This got me through a lot of hard times, the student had said, looking at the CD player fondly. But I’m all about focusing on school over music now.

“Right… well this is just.. fire.” Aya had probably said in response. Give her a break, she was a middle schooler.

“Right Next Door To Hell” starts up, and Aya relaxes into the first verse.

The door to her room swings open and one of the twins beelines in.

“Oneechan was totally into that guy!” Aki, the older one, is saying, and Aya hears purposefully loud snickering coming behind him.

The other twin, Amu, a blur, materializes in the room shortly after. “She was in love with him.”

“Was not,” Aya immediately retorts, but cringes a little at how it comes out. She sounds almost as childish as her brothers, but you can’t help that sometimes with family. She starts gathering the items up from her bed, wanting to protect it from her brothers’ roughhousing. “And you two, ever heard of knocking?”

Amu, the one you really had to watch out for, turns towards his older brother and continues, “She’s thinking about KISSING”, he stage whispers and even puckers his lips for effect.

Amu, Aya thinks, has a penchant for the dramatics. Future theatre kid, or maybe their whole family was like that. Aya launches a lighthearted kick towards the both of them.

She can’t deny rowdy genes for the entire family, as both the twins quickly disperse, crackling in opposite corners, delighted at their sister’s reaction.

“Wait, wait, wait… you didn’t even ask for his name, Neechan!” Aki presses on, grin stupid. “For all you know, he’s, like, forty and has three kids.”

Aya scowled. “He’s not forty, idiot.” So anyone tall could moonlight from teenager to uncle in the eyes of these dumb toddler-like boys?!

Aki nods along, but Amu interjects. “Well if he’s not an old dude, what’s stopping you from asking him out?

Oh the visual such an idea produces right away. It’s particularly embarrassing because it wasn’t even the first time she imagined that sort of thing.

Now Aya’s neck feels kinda hot, actually. Her brothers, unfortunately, also kinda notice.

“Ohhhh. How embarrassing. You’re SCARED,” they scream the last part, as Axl Rose also sing-screams Cause I'm right next door to hell, And so many eyes are on me, Right next door to hell…

“Oh please! I am not scared!” Aya’s voice pitches higher than she intended in the ensuing quiet— she went to pause the CD for now. “Besides, how do you know I’m not going to?”

The twins grin devilishly. “You are? When?!”

“Tomorrow. I—I’m going to ask him out!” Aya says in a burst of inspiration, and then kicks both of the boys out, slamming the door as a warning.

Little brothers were so lovable precisely because they were so idiotically annoying. But her own words had taken root.

Wait, Tomorrow?!

I’m seriously going to ask him out tomorrow?!

/

Tomorrow comes way too fast, in any case.

During the walk to school, Aya mentally runs through her day.

Arrive early, chat with friends, get through morning classes, lunch, the rest of the school day, stop by the CD store later and… well…

One could only hope no one was around to watch her as she made a fool out of herself, at least.

She got out of bed at 6 a.m to style her hair this morning. No experiments with her make up today, only the practiced lines and shades of what she thinks for sure suits her, and her favourite cherry lip gloss packed in the front zip of her bag for a quick touch-up before the moment comes—and yet, she still has dark circles under her eyes that the concealer doesn’t quite cover from tossing and turning all of last night.

She’s scared.

No, not scared. Just… thoughtful.

Despite how it seems, this isn’t a totally impulse decision. If anything, she’s been toying with the idea for weeks.

It’s kind of a relief, honestly—realizing she’s capable of crushing on someone at all. She use to wonder if it was some kind of delayed timeline she was on. She has plenty of guy friends growing up, and she definitely notices when boys paid attention to her, but she never cares about it in the way her friends did.

There’s satisfaction that comes from knowing you were popular, wanted, but the dizzy rush of romance’s promise eludes her.

And then she happens to go into that CD store, and…

Oniisan is this weird contradiction to her. Distant, but attentive. Hard to read, but safe. He gives her space, but she still somehow feels seen. As her first serious crush, it’s perfect. The ideal, actually.

It’s not like falling for a classmate, where she’d have to deal with rumours, differing friend groups, and still have to see him every day if things got awkward. I mean, you had to be one way at school whether you liked it or not.

Oniisan is in this separate part on her life—which made him not only effortlessly charming, kind, but a good person to have feelings for.

It’s not weird to want to ask him out, even if he is elusive. Which you know, just adds to the appeal.

And besides—She thinks he might like her back. Maybe not in the same obsessive way, but there’s something there. Every time she steps into the CD store, his pretty grey eyes crinkle at the corners, his body language shifts, like he’s genuinely so happy to see her.

She can feel him smiling, even through the mask.

So yeah, she would be confessing, to a boy, which is a big step. The timeline is finally moving for her.

She tugs on the ribbon around her neck and makes a face. She’s going to be confessing in her school uniform, when god knows how old Oniisan is.

He could be in college. He sees her standing there in her high school cardigan, pleated skirt and thinks, what a sweet kid. I need to let her down easy.

No. It’s not like she hasn’t gone to the CD shop in her uniform before. She just never really felt conscious about it until now. She could technically go home to change first, but she doesn’t want to give herself that time.

No. If she goes home, she’ll want to sit on her bed, overthink the entire thing, feel miserable. Talk herself out of it, cue up Blur instead. Back out.

No. No backing out. She already made the choice. Between hours of Guns N' Roses last night, she already came to terms with the idea she’s really going to do this, and she's to do it as soon as possible.

/

8:05am and Aya is comfortably nested in between her group of friends, Chizuru and Mao. The girls all liked to indulge in social time before class, and it was unspoken thing between them to get to school earlier than the rest.

With stress pumping through her body, there’s really no better way to take the edge off than to get hyped up by her friends.

“Guys, listen. I’m going to do something brave today.”

Chizuru takes the slowest sip of her carton of caramel milk before responding. ”Oh? Are you finally telling your mom you hate the ceramic Shisa collection in the kitchen?”

"I don't hate the Shisa collection, Chizuru," Aya rolls her eyes.

Of course Chizuru refuses to take the bait right away, she’s sadistic like that.

Aya props herself up on her elbows, fingers fanned out, framing the sides of her face like a heroine. “Look, I’m talking about something actually brave.”

Mao nods in encouragement, leaning in closer to show she’s invested, while Chizuru silently works out the situation so she can beat Aya to the punchline. “Okay. Is this about... that guy?”

Aya examines her two best friends’ expressions. She’s hoping for blind support, but Chizuru is sharp, and Mao is way too excitable. “…Maybe.”

Mao’s eyes widen and her face breaks into a smile, pearly white teeth showing, while Chizuru’s face remains neutral, but noticeable interest glints in her eyes. “So how brave are we talking?”

Aya hesitates, then unclenches her hands which had somehow become fists by her cheeks. “Well you know….I’m… probably going to ask him out?”

Mao, the open book romantic, immediately reaches to grab both of Aya’s hands, shaking them back and forth like a rattle. “That’s so exciting! Wait, Aya, how long have you been seriously in love?”

“Seriously in—“ Aya face heats. "I haven’t even gotten his name yet."

That earns her an incredulous stare from Chizuru. "You're asking out a guy whose name you don't even know.” She says it so flat, it’s like reading a bank statement.

This causes even Mao to stop celebrating, releasing Aya’s hands, which Aya immediately uses to cover her face to avoid Chizuru’s judgement. “Look, I already got roasted by my little brothers about this, so I know how dumb it sounds. But you had to be there. Last night he was being really cool and mysterious at the festival, and it just felt so very in the moment that even asking for his name would ruin that moment.”

“Uhh, okay?” Chizuru is impassive. “So I get you were feeling shy. I still have no idea what exactly makes this guy so special.”

Aya hesitates, trying to gather her scattered impressions and form them into a convincing argument.

Going back to that moment yesterday, with the boy under a mask, casually stepping in front of her, his taller frame casting a shadow in the summer heat. He had drawn the prop gun, aiming without hesitation, winning her the CDs like it was nothing.

So impressive, but he didn’t seem to be trying to impress her. He had looked at her—not ever like how other boys looked at her.

She’s considered cute or funny or popular or interesting by boys, she knew all that, but in that moment he looked like all he just wanted was for her to be happy.

“But if you keep it, every time you listen to it…you’ll be happy you know?”

“It’s true on paper I don’t know him well,” she admits, voice quieter now. “But when I’m around him, I feel like I might. And I feel like he knows me too, in some weird way. And it’s not even 100% about him. Like, there’s also how I… well, how I suddenly want to take action, I want to be braver. It just feels like something I can do.”

“Well,” Chizuru says, after a measured pause, "If you're that determined, I guess there's no stopping you. It’s not like I’m the one feeling the feelings.”

Aya nods, but the conversation leaves her feeling exposed instead of hyped, like whenever she tries to explain her favourite music but is met with blank stares instead.

Oversharing in the wrong room again, when this was suppose to be a topic that should have brought her closer to her friends.

Mao, sensing the shift, pats her back in light encouragement. "You got this, Aya! I believe in your dumb bravery!"

Students trickle into the classroom now, as the time inches closer to the start of class. Aya looks around, gathering her things, as a familiar figure walks past her, pausing just slightly to greet her.

“Good morning, Oosawa-san.”

It’s Koga Mitsuki-san, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She makes a soft noise of surprise when she takes Aya in fully. “Why do you look like you're about to pass out? Bad sleep?”

Mitsuki says it sympathetically, even rubs her own eyes under her glasses as she says it. She’s never been a morning person, and just wants to share that solidarity.

Aya looks up at Mitsuki in mild surprise. "Oh—no, I just…” She strides forward, leaving Chizuru and Mao clustered on their own, and cups her hand by her mouth like there’s a fun secret. “…listened to a lot of Guns N’ Roses last night.”

Mitsuki comes closer too, curious. "Which album?"

"Well, their whole discography.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then, to Aya’s surprise, Mitsuki let out a small huff of laughter, shaking her head. “That’s so insane. You’re really something.”

"It was important research."

Mitsuki hooks her bag onto her desk. "Yeah? What’s your verdict, then?"

Aya brightens. "Oh! Uh—okay, so obviously ‘Appetite for Destruction’ is legendary, but I think ‘Use Your Illusion I & II’ are kind of underrated? Like, I feel like they took more risks there. Also, I wasn’t expecting to like ‘Estranged’ so much, but something about the piano—"

Mitsuki is watching her ramble with a soft expression, but Mitsuki’s energy was always oddly gentle towards her. Finally, as Aya runs out of words, Mitsuki’s smile turns amused. "Huh. Didn’t take you for a completionist. So it really made you that happy, I guess?”

Something about the way that was worded… “Huh?"

“Never mind." Mitsuki is about to settle down at her desk, but she suddenly glances at the clock, stands up again, body turned toward the door. “Be right back.” And she leaves Aya staring after her, a little thrown.

Chizuru raises one of her bushy eyebrows. "Wow. So that girl can speak."

Aya frowns at the rudeness. “Of course she can.”

“Well, you seem calmer after that… must be because got all that random music-talk out of your system.”

A part of Aya wants to take issue at the phrase “random music talk", but instead she only runs a hand through her hair, loosening her waves. "Yeah. I guess so,”

She’s surprised at how genuine her voice sounds. The tension that had been rolling through her all morning had tapered off during her enthusiastic recounter of her tracklist impressions. She takes the scrunchie wrapped around her wrist, ties up her hair, and hums one of the songs discreetly under her breath as she waits for class to begin.

Then, just before the morning bell, Mitsuki returns. She taps Aya’s desk to get her attention, before sliding a canned coffee drink over. Mitsuki herself holding an identical one with her other hand.

“H-here,” She says, a little too quickly. “This is what I always drink when I’m dead tired. Um— I don’t mean to overstep—”

The teacher walks in, and Mitsuki immediately starts to retreat, suddenly self-conscious.

Aya reaches out, catches Mitsuki’s wrist before she can fully pull away. “Thanks,” she whispers.

/

The CD shop was out of the way, had always been a little detour on a quiet tree-lined side street. Neighbourhood, IYKYK vibes.

Aya was in the know. She checks her appearance one last time in the mirror, confident in her attractiveness, and strides in.

No, what Aya actually does is stall outside the store, heart hammering uselessly.

Just go in. Be normal.

Her feet felt bolted to the sidewalk. What did she use to do? Just fling the door open and walk in, brazenly ask to talk to the shop staff?

Yes, the cute one, with the Nirvana hoodie. Let’s not beat around the bush.

No, the whole thing felt surreal in the way her favourite bands singing about dropping acid must be on about.

She suddenly thinks about all those nameless people in the world, confessing to other people they liked, possibly right now, in other corners of the world. She admired them, all so proactive about trying to secure their own happiness.

She could be one of those people. And besides—she had crafted a perfect excuse.

The bell above the door chimes, and Aya takes a step back, expecting it to be a customer, a regular maybe.

Hopefully not a regular though, because she didn’t really want to be recognized.

“Oh,” Oniisan says, surprised. “Oosawa-san.”

He looks effortlessly appealing, in a black hoodie, mask on, silver rings glinting as he held onto a broom with a worn green handle. The late afternoon light caught on his hair, softening the blacks to grey.

He had come out to swept the shop entryway, and when he notices her, his posture tightens, as if he was lifting upwards the muscles of his entire frame for her, crown reaching for the sky. His grey eyes completely focuses on her.

“Oosawa-san.” He says again, questioning.

“Hi,” she blurts, cringing at how it comes out. “I came by to say thanks. For, um. The CD set. The one from the festival.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You like it?” His voice felt so thick and warm, like a laugh, like as if he already knows the answer.

“It’s amazing, You have the best taste in music.”

Just ask him.

“I—I was wondering. Would you, um. Maybe. Want to—”

But she can’t.

She already had something so good with Oniisan. It was perfect in its own way. A lot of lingering glances, like the ones just now. The way he always notices her, teases her almost. Their own things.

Small, maybe, but if she said it out loud, it might all disappear. She was trading something she knew she for sure enjoyed for something she didn’t know at all.

Suddenly on this warm spring day, Aya felt very cold. Because despite what she told her friends, beyond a feeling, she didn’t know him at all.

In the best case scenario he agrees to be with her, she’d have to get to know him. And that was—

She should go in and buy a CD. Ask for another recommendation. Keep it fun and casual, people like that—and she excelled at being what people liked. She knew when to swallow her words, when to smile, when to make self depreciating jokes, how to bring up the mood—

“Do you have any other recommendations?”

An obvious pivot. But Oniisan doesn’t push. He never does. Slowly he says, “Plenty. But you’d have to come into the store first.”

He turns towards the door. Through the glass, Aya catches a glimpse of the other employee inside, busy arranging records. The idea of dealing with other people at this moment, causes a spike of anxiety to shoot through her.

“Never mind, its okay! I, I don’t have too much time today.” The back of her neck flushes with the excuse. “I actually…”

So embarrassing. Aki and Amu’s voice, A cappella, cutting through the noise in her head. You’re scared?

No.

I mean, yes, she was. But it’s not what you think. She was scared of the knowing. And that— that was a real shame, because she believes Oniisan was a person that was really worthy of knowing.

“Do you wanna go out? Like on a date with me?”

Chapter Text

A very long silence.

Aya’s thinks she’s never seen him hesitate so much, trying to find a reply for her.

Great. Not only had Aya just thrown her entire pride onto the sidewalk, and now she has to sit through the kindest rejection by a boy that’s struggling to figure out how not to make her feel bad about it.

She has nowhere to hide though, standing out in the open like this. Why did she do this again? She feels like a lone impala on the sweeping savannah grasslands, strayed too far from the herd, vulnerable. That’s ridiculous. Oniisan's here, and this is suppose to be a safe habitat for her, that’s why she can be herself here. And yet, with just a few words, she's thinned out the ground. She zeroes in on Oniisan’s fingers curling against the broom handle, painted fingernails itching at the wood.

“I’m at work right now,” he begins, voice careful. “But…”

It’s not a rejection, Aya realizes with a sudden start. I mean, he’s coming closer to me. And he’s telling me not to worry.

The air between them feels… off. Like a guitar out of tune, but the performer pushes forward anyways. It makes her anxious, watching it happen. Is he trying to do something something he’s not ready for—

“The answer isn’t no.” Oniisan says to her. “But can you give me some time?”

Oh.

She nods quickly.

“I’ll text you, alright?” Oniisan says, and then faces away from her. He moves in a way that almost seems cruel, how casual it is.

But the answer is… good, right?

Why is she just rooted silently to the spot like an idiot? Did she forget how to speak?

“Yeah! Cool! I—um—” She takes a sharp step back. “Later!!”

And then she turns and just runs.

/

Her phone alarm, set for 7am, was just a courtesy, a last minute prevention. She usually wakes up before it goes off, her body attuned to the changes of colour in the sky. But today, it blares. And she feels sluggish. She should be excited. He even said he’d text her. That’s good. Not only didn’t he say no, but he'd be taking the reins from her, promising to lead. That’s exactly what she wants.

Her phone goes off again, and yeah, she’s hit the snooze button far too many times. She stares at the screen, the phone registering the alarm being turned off, no texts or anything.

Aya, it’s 7:25am. People are busy, have school or work, it’s not a good time to be texting about confessions of love for anyone.

Besides, he’s probably not a morning person either, if those bags permanently smudged under his eyes is anything to go by. And also Aya, it’s 7:25am, which means you also need to get the fuck up.

There’s still enough time to get ready for school, do something simple but cute with her hair, eat a yogurt cup for breakfast, sprinkle it with crunchy oats, raspberries, and she can’t help herself here— heaping on a big spoonful of shiso sugar at the end.

When she arrives at school, her seat mate is nowhere to be found. Mitsuki’s bad with mornings, but she isn’t usually late, either. But neither does Aya skirt the edge of punctuality like that, so in that case, it's merely an out of character moment for the both of them. Chizuru stops mid-chat to give Aya a questioning look, and Aya just shrugs in response, sliding into her chair just before the sound of the bell, and she doesn’t think anything more, works very hard to not think, actually, eyes pitching forward to the blackboard.

Lunchtime rolls around, and the first thing Chizuru says to her is: “You were late today.”

“I wasn’t though?” Aya thinks Chizuru must practice her expressions in the mirror. She definitely delivers the most powerful eye-roll in the world. All in good fun, of course.

“You were late for us.” Chizuru sighs. “Well at least you showed up, unlike that girl next to you. She call out or something?“

Aya worries her lip, wondering too. Mitsuki had been especially kind yesterday, and they have such fun talking sometimes, that even their trivial conversations made her feel anchored. She liked the way Mitsuki’s energy filled the space beside her, felt steady somehow. Hope she didn’t catch a cold, but she looked fine yesterday. Or maybe, late-spring allergies. People get those, right? It’s peak grass pollen season right now, too.

None of the three girls brought a lunch, so they all go to the canteen and grab their respective breads. Aya really loves the anpan one. They have one with an especially jammy filling, and it’s 50% sweeter.

“50% more expensive too,” Chizuru scowls, but she’s holding one too.

“Do you think eating anpan makes your hair redder?” Mao is teasing, poking Aya as they walk back into the classroom. To her surprise, she sees Mitsuki in the corner of the room, facing the teacher.

Apologizing. Mitsuki’s bowing figure makes her look smaller than she really was.

Aya waits until class starts again, and during a lull in the lesson, taps Mitsuki’s desk, the way Mitsuki did yesterday. Mitsuki looks at her, nervous, like she wasn’t prepared for Aya to engage.

“Are you okay?” Aya mouths.

Mitsuki quickly looks away. “Oh… yeah.”

Aya frowns. They weren’t exactly best friends, but they’d been talking more lately. It felt like… something. But today, Mitsuki’s barely acknowledging her. And even weirder yet, it almost seems intentional.

Did I do something? Maybe she’s just had a bad morning? I get that. Aya thinks, even though she’s totally a morning person, today not withstanding. She suddenly gets an idea, and taps Mitsuki’s desk again. Tap tap. Mitsuki looks over, too polite not to.

“Check this out,” Aya flashes her phone. Spotify is open, and the song As Long as You’re Next to Me is playing. She quickly lifts a lock of her hair, points to the one earbud she has hidden in her left ear.

“Is that Tigercub?!” Mitsuki mouths back. “That’s so awesome.” A smile spreads across her features, and Mitsuki even scoots a little closer to look again.

Aya smiles too. She guessed right. Koga-san's a huge music dork.

/

There’s no text. None the next day either. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

The last thing he had sent her, was that playlist. It felt like eons ago, but she thinks she can trust him, if she focuses on that.

Just play the playlist every time the feeling in the stomach gets bad. How much can you know of someone from a playlist? Certainly there’s parts they don’t show other people; art always reveals, right? Aya’s good at band deep dives, but in the grand scheme of knowledge, not a whole lot of expertise when it has to do with certain aspects of real life, like actually being with someone.

She does remember seeing in an instagram reel once, that Mao sent her, that a boy being busy was good, shows he has a life. In that case, she’s busy too, she has duties to attend to.

Like the school festival, the monumental school event, its status cemented in songs and anime and movies, laboured with their youthful passion. Their teacher making them decide on the committee before summer vacation starts in 2 weeks. Aya muttering, "The festival is so far away though?”, before that smarmy guy, Narita, volunteers himself for the head of the closing party.

He’s pretty much perfect for that role, she’s thinking appreciatively, but out of nowhere he volunteers her too, citing her music taste.

“Well if it’s about music—“ Aya, swallowing her apprehension, grabs Mitsuki’s hand and shouts, “Koga-san too!”

Before Mitsuki can fully protest, their names had all been registered, the teacher making a show of acting extra grateful, which was a precursor to: if any of them backs out, they’re dead.

“But why?” Mitsuki asks her later, when they’re the last ones getting ready to leave.

“Because I’ve been wanting to talk to you about music!” Aya gushes, ever the enthusiast, and also her eyes plead I can’t handle being alone with that guy, so of course Mitsuki has to say yes.

“…So you were looking forward to it?” Mitsuki also says, turning to smile at Aya one last time on her way out. She absentmindedly puts her hand on the back of her neck, strands of black hair falling over the side of her cheek gently, and all of a sudden Aya can’t stop staring. It reminds her—

A part of her itches, and thinking to distract herself from that sensation, she reaches for her phone— only to remember, and so with all the effort she can muster, she leaves it untouched in the bottom of her bag.

/

At some point, Aya stops checking her phone altogether in the morning. She’s getting a head start on reducing her screen time, not because she can’t bear to start the day wanting to throw herself off a bridge or anything. And she doesn’t particularly feel like going to school early anymore, though her hardened principles won’t let her sleep in entirely.

What else can I do around the house? Take up gardening? Her mom would probably love that, but she just settles for another round of Beck as she rearranges her room, before getting to her seat at the last second, again. 

The days pass somehow and it’s already a Saturday now, and nobody’s in the classrooms except the committee kids, all the morons across the classes who signed away half of their weekends and afternoons, including one moron named Oosawa Aya sitting right here.

Four desks are pushed together, piles of committee paperwork clipped next to larger rolled up sheets. Narita is off somewhere, checking equipment with another club, she didn’t really ask for so many details.

She trusts him, actually. He’s good at this stuff; coordinating with the other parties, even kids and teachers from other classes, higher grades. That slick sociableness of his doing wonders for soothing over all kinds of interactions. Maybe there were people out there who thought she was suppose to date that kind of guy, or even thought they looked good together.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Mitsuki kept picking up busywork, avoiding dealing with other people as much as possible, except that one time Narita insisted on dragging her out for for some important “outreach” as he called it. 

Mitsuki stands near the blackboard, grabbing something from a box in the classroom shelves. Her hand comes away a bit dusty where the chalk dust had fallen in, and she wipes the back of it into the front of her skirt, treating it as if it were a scrap cloth instead of her expensive uniform. Maybe Mitsuki is just an unceremonious person, because a schoolgirl skirt is suppose to be precious, a lot of girls saving theirs deep into adulthood for the sentiment alone. But there’s something else about Mitsuki's posture too, the way she shifts her weight from foot to foot periodically, as if she didn’t want the fabric to lay against her skin for too long, that makes Aya think: Koga-san doesn’t want to be wearing that skirt.

There’s a focused intensity about Mitsuki sometimes. All sharp-eyed, driven almost. It comes out in random tasks on occasion, it’s never been aimed at schoolwork or another person before— well, maybe every so often it’s directed at Aya herself, though Aya doesn’t know if she really wants to pursue that train of thought all that seriously.

“What’s up?” Mitsuki is in front of her. Close all of a sudden, proving Aya’s previous point.

“What’s up with you?” Aya echoes back without flinching. I too, can rock the nerves of steel, she thinks proudly of herself.

“Well, you were kinda looking at me—“

"Yo, fellow committee members!” Narita’s voice crashes into them like a cymbal. Aya watches, as if in slow-mo, Mitsuki’s expression school itself to something akin to nonchalance. “Big plans, big plans. I got the go ahead on some crazy stuff. We are going to revolutionize this festival."

Aya groans at his cheesiness, the moment already slipping away. She glances back at Mitsuki, but whatever had been there before is gone. Maybe she imagined it.

/

Monday is beautifully sunny, not too humid either. A perfect day for a detour to the CD shop, but she..

She can’t go there. What does Oniisan mean by it. He needs some time. Or if that was actually an euphemism to leave him the fuck alone? She’s good with people, she should know if that was the case.

She’s spiralling. She knows it, too.

The whole last week she wasn’t thinking about it. She didn’t think about it every morning when she wouldn’t look at her phone, she didn’t think about it at night when she plugged that same phone to charge.

The phone felt like a curse. Friends texting her, and she didn’t even want to reply anymore. She never lets things go unread. Thought that kind of thing was rude.

Her stomach in knots before bed. Couldn’t relax without at least 2 hours of Nirvana.

A book, a pencil case, they go into her bag. What about her, where does she go? The bell chimes. End of the school day already. Makes herself stand up.

“Hey.” Mitsuki’s hand on her shoulder. “Oosawa-san.”

Mitsuki didn’t ask for permission to touch her, didn’t even freak out after realizing she’s touched her. How unlike her, but it’s welcomed.

“Oosawa-san, it’ll be okay.” Mitsuki’s hand find hers, and hold hers.

Mitsuki’s hand feels nice. Mitsuki holds her hand all the way to the front of the school gate. That’s okay, they’re just girls holding hands. Normal. Though she didn’t realize they were such good friends already. A good friend who looks at her and tells her, “If you’re ever overwhelmed, hold onto me.”

She puts the CD shop out of her mind.

/

She runs into Mitsuki at the school gate. It’s kinda funny, their mornings have never synced up like that before. Without thinking, Aya grabs for the other girl’s hand. Holding hands when they walk in together, like good friends do.

Chizuru gives her a look. Doesn’t say anything though. Mao looks a bit panicked. What do they have today, tests or something? Actually, at some point, Mao comes up to her and asks what’s up.

Aya tells her, “So tired, the committee stuff is suchhhhh a drag.”

“Really? I thought you would enjoy it. Because of, you know…” Mao doesn’t finish her thought.

Class starts. No tests, red herring. Two more days of this, then Wednesday they stay behind to work on committee stuff. Narita’s not around again. “He’s doing important things,” Aya jokes. “But you’re okay with me, right? Like I’m not bad to be around?”

“Are you kidding? Oosawa-san, you’re awesome to be around,” Mitsuki says, so sincerely that it makes Aya want to blush.

They’re tucked in the corner of the library, for a change of pace, and the sun is casting long golden streaks across the rows and rows of books, and when they talk, they have to whisper, because it’s a library, and their heads almost hover over each other, since they’re making notes in a shared notebook. It’s peaceful, but it also felt sacred in its intimacy, like what she thought romance should be, if only a boy would text her. Or like, maybe this was just culture festival youth stuff, which must be a romance in its own way.

Time passes this way, neither fast nor slow, and the notebook is getting filled, the never-ending tasks finally dwindling, except Aya thinks a part of her doesn’t mind so much now, somehow. She’s so in the zone, that when Mitsuki speaks again, she’s startled by the sound.

“…Do you ever feel like you don’t really know someone?”

Aya blinks at the question, feeling like Mitsuki’s trying to share something important, but she doesn’t really know how to get into it. “What, like a stranger?”

“No, more like—” Mitsuki swallows, wets her lips. “Like, someone you’re close to. But you start realizing you only know the version of them they let you see.”

Aya tilts her head, considering. There’s weird feelings inside her, threatening to disrupt the peace. She’s on the edge of something dangerous. She shouldn’t think so much. It’s not what Mitsuki’s asking about, where Aya’s thoughts tend to go.

“…I guess it depends,” Aya says. “If I found out someone I cared about was hiding something from me on purpose, I’d probably be upset. But it’d matter why they were hiding it. If it was for a selfish reason, I’d be pissed. But if they were scared, or if it was something painful… I think I’d understand. Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah, I think it does.”

/

Aya stretches, the scent of her shampoo lingering in the room after her bath. Rejuvenated. So much work got done today. Productive. She considers her CD collection as she clips her hair up. Aligned. Her life, like a wellness instagram post if she wasn’t so private. Actually, just like social media, much of it staged.

Mitsuki’s words, coming back to her.  “…Do you ever feel like you don’t really know someone?”

This horrible feeling of being what - ghosted, which she had never known of prior to this week and half. And she wants to go back now. To stop being "adult" at romance which was really no fun at all, and even further from the movie-like experience of love than ever before. It was a laughable matter now, to ever had the urge. Prisoner of her own feeling, masochistic, really, putting your wellbeing in the hands of someone else, who didn’t even want that responsibility. 

It’s not like he was the only cool person in the world, or even the only cool person to be kind to her. He’s in fact, a recent addition to the landscape of her life, yet the power he has on her seems to intensely suggest the opposite. When an almost-stranger can make you feel this kind of pain, then is their meeting one that transcends time, familiarity, making it a sort of animalistic instinct, the way they somehow found each other.

Beside her, the screen is going off. Her phone! But it’s Chizuru who’s calling.

“How have you been, Aya?”

“The same? Chizuru, you see me everyday.” Aya quips, but she’s glad for the distraction of her best friend’s voice.

“Do I, though?”

“What do you mean?” It’s true that she’s been missing the morning gossip hour, but they can catch up anytime. She can call Chizuru anytime she wants, and there’s such relief in that, having best friends.

“What about your ‘guy’, Aya.”

Short-lived relief. “What about him? I feel like I talked your ear off about him already, why don’t we talk about something else?”

Chizuru is quiet for a bit, and then finally says, “Like what? Oh, like how you and that girl are getting along swimmingly?”

“Koga-san.”

“Excuse me?”

“She has a name.”

“Are you being serious right now, Aya?” Her best friend makes a distasteful sound, almost like a laugh. But it’s not her usual fun bantering. Then, without as much as another word, Chizuru cuts off the phone call.

Chapter Text

Lunch starts after Chemistry ends. Chizuru and Mao leave the room in a hurry. Aya didn’t even know they could pack up that fast, especially with Mao being a turtle and all.

Ok, Aya. Square up. Let’s try for normalcy first. It doesn’t take a lot to chase them down because honestly, they don’t get that far.

“Hey, don’t leave without me. let’s eat lunch together.”

“Sorry, we already ate.”

Aya expects this. It still stings. She doesn’t let it show on her face, though. “Isn’t that kinda mean?”

“Nah. Not really. You have other people to eat with, don’t you?” Chizuru barely looks at her. Mao shoots Aya an apologetic glance but follows when Chizuru walks away, butterfly earrings swaying with the speed of her departure.

Outside, in the quiet widths of the courtyard, Aya just sighs. At least it’s a nice day.

Yup, she definitely expected this, and that’s why she brought her own lunch today, a proper one with 3 side dishes and decorative elements to boot. Maybe the carrots cut into the shape of flowers would delight enough should she had to eat all by herself.

But she’s being murderous with the food instead, piercing her chopsticks through the rolled egg like a stab. “Damn. Brutal or what.”

Well, at least she didn’t have to eat by herself, as Mitsuki, sitting beside her, shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

Aya turns, lifts an eyebrow.

“It’s because of me,” Mitsuki clarifies, lowering her voice, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear, even though it’s just the two of them out here. “It’s all my fault.”

Aya’s always caught off guard by the weight Mitsuki puts in her words, even though they should be predictable by now.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Mitsuki has a small sandwich, which she chews through slowly before answering. Her gaze drops all the way to the ground. “Well…because you and your friends are fighting. Among… other things.”

The last part, the way her voice barely touches on it— like she regrets saying it at all. Aya stares into the distance, nothing out there but a tree or two for her eyes to focus on, all the other students crowded back up in the classroom. A realization starts to form in her chest.

Mitsuki retreats all the time because she blames herself for everything.

It’s—God, it’s even kind of self-centered. Mitsuki sees herself as the cause of problems that aren’t even always about her. Maybe Chizuru is jealous or whatever, but that last part. Among other things.

Sure, maybe Aya hasn’t been so upbeat these past two weeks, but that’s due to her own hangups, and it’s already so meaningful to her that Mitsuki cares that much. Instead of thinking of herself as a sweet, attentive friend, Mitsuki seems to beat her self up instead, thinking she hasn’t done enough to make Aya feel better.

Why’s Mitsuki always gotta go making it about herself all the time? Especially in a way that just makes her go off on her own about it? And why is it so adorably precious that Aya gets to see her reveal these parts of herself, however precarious? Man, she’s got it down bad.

“I’m glad you tell me how you feel,” Aya says.

Mitsuki’s head lifts, surprised.

“When you say these things out loud, you share your burdens,” Aya continues. “And then you realize it’s not so heavy after all.”

She takes Mitsuki’s hand in hers.

Mitsuki’s fingers start, but she doesn’t pull away. Their hands are warm where they touch, as if they’re trying to preserve the first rays of the summer sun through their palms. Aya lifts their intertwined fingers, as if to prove something.

“I’m holding your hand,” she murmurs, examining where they’re joined. “But Koga-san, you’re holding mine, too.”

A sharp little intake of breath. The pull in her fingertips. She doesn’t look up to see Mitsuki’s expression because she suddenly thinks—if I do, I think I might not understand what I see.

So she lets go.

Yeah, she’s fine. Chizuru might be mad, and Mao might be anxious, trying not to make things worse. But it’s not like it’s the end of the world. After all, Aya knows those girls like the back of her hand. They’re her best friends.

/

Aya finds Chizuru and Mao behind the gym after school.

They stop talking when they see her. Mao looks unsure, and Chizuru crosses her arms. About to say something so savagely dismissive that Aya can already imagine it, so she makes a show of exhaling loudly before it could happen.

“I’m over it.”

Chizuru doesn’t back down. “What, over us? Because you have your other friend now?”

Aya scowls. “No you dummy, I’m over Oniisan.”

That stops them both.

Mao blinks lashy doe eyes at her, eyes filling with sympathy, while Chizuru’s tight expression loosens. “The confession didn’t go well, huh?”

“I mean, he technically didn’t say no,” Aya tries for a smile.

Chizuru shakes her head. “Then why do you look like you want to die?”

This. This is why she didn’t want to say anything. Because while she can deal with Mao being sad for her, Chizuru is always so to the point, forcing her to confront her own feelings. Even ones she doesn’t want to name. Or ones where she doesn’t even have a name for, yet. Maybe the sound Aya’s making can be interpreted as half a scoff by anybody else, but Chizuru will know it’s probably something way sadder than that, a sound that only unnamed feelings can produce. Before she can react further, Chizuru steps forward and hugs her, all in one swift motion.

Aya stiffens a little at first, but then relaxes into it.

“I’m just worried about you,” Chizuru says, her voice quieter now. “You’ve been off the whole week. But you weren’t talking to us at all. You weren’t even letting us talk to you. It felt like the only one you let in was that girl—Koga-san.” She corrects herself, and that’s when Aya knows Chizuru’s feeling extremely sorry. “And it felt like… you didn’t need us anymore.”

Aya shakes her head, pressing her forehead into Chizuru’s shoulder for just a moment before pulling back. “I wanted to. I just couldn’t. Because I felt like an idiot. And because you were right about Oniisan.”

Chizuru’s mouth twitches, but to her credit, no I-told-you-so.

“And I’m not replacing you guys with Koga-san, it’s just that…” Aya hesitates. “Koga-san, well…” she can’t finish the sentence.

Suddenly it all feels very, very embarrassing. But Chizuru only nods, like she’s already put the pieces together, like Aya doesn’t even need to figure that one out. Aya looks away, exasperated—but, with feelings closer to gratitude, if she were the type to admit that sort of thing.

/

It’s the last day before the summer vacation, and they’re closing in on some last minute committee stuff, partly because it’d be really annoying to come back to the second semester and have tasks already, and partly just because Narita says so.

“Who made him the boss of us, right?” Aya complains, but there’s no snap to it. They’re trying to locate a specific storage room, one that’s so out of the way that Narita had drawn them a little map, marked with a star. Why the hell did he also have to sign his name all cute at the bottom of the paper, that part was anyone’s guess.

They’re each carrying a small box, made gophers by Narita after he’d taken from it what he needed.

“Yeah, but let’s quickly return this stuff, then it’d be done and dusted.” Mitsuki says, and she shouldn’t have put it like that, because when they open the room, it’s as if they’d summoned the dust incarnate itself.

“…Yikes.” Aya grimaces, “This store room looks abandoned…”

She finds the empty space on the shelf, a perfect square wiped clean of dust. Placing the box back where it belongs, she barely has time to say, “I’ll be over here—” before something drops onto her, and she screams.

“Huh? Oosawa-san!? Are you okay?”

“Wait…! I got caught… by something?”

“Caught…!?”

“It’s in my hair…”

“Oh!”

There’s bits of white threaded through the ends of her hair. Remnants of a spiderweb, and Mitsuki reaches for it.

“D-Did…” Mitsuki’s eyebrows knit with concern bordering on restlessness. “Did I get it out…!?"

Does that worry overtake her fingers, cause them the need to linger so long? They’re both huddled low, and Mitsuki has one knee bent on the ground. Aya suddenly flashes to the other day in the classroom. Mitsuki, close and radiating intensity. But this time, nobody to interrupt them.

“Yeah.” Aya can’t help but smile.

They fall silent. Aya feels a bit hot. Is it the stuffy room, or is it from imagining someone else’s fingers combing through her hair?

It’s wretched how the sentimental heart likes to reminisce again and again. Or is it comparing now, rewriting the story? Too soon to say what it was exactly, but she was tired of it in any case.

“Next thing you know, we’re locked in here.” Aya jokes. At that, Mitsuki immediately goes for the door.

It easily opens. She turns around. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Oh, c’mon, would it be so bad if we were? We can just talk. Or listen to music, as long as there’s a signal…”

“Aren’t you the one who thinks it’s haunted? But yeah, I would be fine with it…I guess.” And then, “I saw you making up with your friends.”

“Spying on me, are you now?”

“S-sorry. Was that creepy? I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t hear much. I was just worried…” Mitsuki stops herself, seeing how Aya’s just teasing, mouth curved upwards. “I just thought you were really cool about it.”

The praise alone fills Aya with pride. Mitsuki continues.

“It made me think.. well, I think I need to tell you something important.”

“What is it?“ Seeing Mitsuki hesitate, Aya tries to be reassuring. “You can tell me anything.”

“Well…” Mitsuki looks like she’s having trouble getting the words out. “Um…Thanks for asking me to be in the committee. I think we make a good team.”

“We do, don’t we?”

Was that all? Well, Mitsuki is a lot shyer about expressing her feelings than the average person. But she already knew that, too.

Aya closes her eyes. Their bodies are close enough that it doesn’t take much more to be leaning against the other girl, so she does, feeling Mitsuki’s body heat through the fabric of her uniform. She feels… really connected to Mitsuki right now. In these past two weeks, all the unnamed feelings, highs and lows, crashing through her. It was hard, not knowing when it would come and go, but she survived. And Mitsuki’s been so nice through it all— a constant, steady beat while her inner world was breaking down.

You make it so easy, Aya thinks. I can share anything with you.

“There’s a certain place. It used to bring me a lot of comfort. But I don’t go anymore.”

She doesn’t open her eyes. It’s pretty dark in the storage room, but she still doesn’t think she wants to see anything when she talks about this. “I thought I might again, but, it’s been two weeks and I haven’t heard a word. So I don’t think I’m allowed to, anymore.” 

The last castle, under siege. Take it, then she could wave the white flag.

“Hey Koga-san, do you think it was stupid of me to wait for someone like that?” She chokes out.

Mitsuki would probably get it. Get her, even though Mitsuki shouldn't have any idea what she really means. The details don’t matter, though.

But then something unexpected happens. Mitsuki is saying, voice clear and full of total conviction, "I have a feeling whoever you're waiting for will respond soon."

She’s so taken back by this, that she feels like the force of Mitsuki’s profound conviction would awaken any and all dormant feelings that’s ever resided in her. It’s a bit scary, to be honest.

“Yeah, okay. I’m sure everything will work out one way or other,” Aya tries to say nonchalantly, like it doesn’t matter at all, but her voice cracks, and then she is horrified to feel wetness on her cheek. Mitsuki reaches out, wiping up the tears with the edge of her hand.

She feels Mitsuki’s eyes, seeing right through her. Mitsuki’s mouth moving so gently, that there shouldn’t even be allowed words, just pure sound.

“Oosawa-san, who in their right mind would leave you alone?”

/

That night, Aya replays the moment, back against the embrace of her bed.

Her heart can’t stop pounding when she thinks about it. Was she just romanticizing the moment? Something about the whole thing, almost felt like an echo of her own confession. But for the first time in two weeks, she realizes—she doesn’t even care about that confession anymore.

She inhales slowly, holding her breath for just a second longer before letting it free, stretching an arm over her face. Damn. Summer break just started, and now she won’t see Mitsuki for weeks. That sucks so much. She wants to text her—just to chat—but she doesn’t have her number.

Aya sighs, rolling onto her side. Oh whatever. I’ve already relied on her so much these past two weeks. Let Mitsuki enjoy her summer vacation stress free. They’ll see each other again. Right now, her phone is on 6%, and she should really charge it before it—

The screen lights up.

A text.

From Oniisan.

Chapter Text

It’s noon but Aya’s still sprawled languidly across her bed. Outside, it’s hot but not muggy, the best kind of summer vacation hot. Inside, air conditioning circulating blissful cool air; a slow, lazy happiness blanketing her entire body.

Sunscreen, the hums of cicadas, the total lack of teachers and committee responsibilities. Just endless free time stretched out ahead of her. And tomorrow, her first date.

She still couldn’t fucking believe it.

A soft buzz pulls her attention to her phone, lying face down beside the pillow. She unlocks it, but it’s nothing—just a notification from a shopping app. She clicks out of it and stares at her home screen, contemplating.

Hmm. Time for a little refresh.

She spends the next five minutes deciding between two different wallpaper options—A bright, blue sky, or a sunset pink? She chooses the latter, because it makes her think of long days and warm nights. Then she reorganizes her apps. Messaging and social media up front, random junk tucked away neatly. She even changes some of the app icons to match the aesthetic.

Perfect. She also gets the same satisfaction from lining up her lipgloss by colour and brand, but she’d already done that yesterday. Suddenly energized, she sits up. She should update contact names. Let’s add cute emojis next to Mao and Chizuru.

Mao-chan 🐻 (because she’s soft but sometimes stubborn like a little bear)
Chizuru-chan 🐛 (because of her eyebrows, LOL)

She scrolls through her contacts, thumb hovering. What about Mitsuki?

Aya hesitates, then starts typing.

Koga-san

…What emoji fits her?

She could go with 👓 for glasses, but somehow that doesn’t fit Mitsuki, as if the glasses were just a decorative cover up. How about 🎧, because music is the one sure thing that will pull Mitsuki out of her shell? She wants an animal theme though, it would match better with what she gave her other friends.

An obvious choice would be 🐈 for a black cat—quiet, observant, can be unpredictable. But… Mitsuki’s been pretty touchy lately. And suddenly, unbidden, an image of Mitsuki with puppy ears, being all loyal and affectionate, wanting her attention, pops into her head.

A giggle escapes her mouth at the ridiculous thought, but before she can change her mind, she settles on Koga-san 🐶.

But then, she’s confronted with the empty number field.

Oh. Right.

Her fingers tighten around her phone for a second before she exits out of the contact list, sighing. It felt like they got stupidly close the last few weeks, but then things like this remind her that they’re just classmates.

No, it’s actually fine. She’s given too much meaning to it. Even with a close friend like Mao she doesn’t really text much outside of the group chat. Still, it bothers her, the realization that there’s literally no way she would be able to get in touch with Mitsuki outside of the school setting.

It’s always like this when routines change. Even if it’s exciting, I still feel weird about it.

Like even now, with the most exciting thing in her life about to happen. Hasn’t falling in love been the ultimate departure from routine? It almost felt like losing bits of herself, letting go of all that control, feeling okay having someone else take up so much space in her inner world.

But it’s paid off.

Still the scariest thing ever, but at the same time, maybe the most human. To be able to reach all the way beyond the uncertain, and start creating something entirely new, just because the wanting outweighs the fear?

She goes for her phone again, the pink wallpaper greeting her, and feels satisfied about her choice. Pink’s also the first blush of romance. My summer romance. She pops opens her contacts, scrolling down.

A couple of entries past Koga-san 🐶, she reaches a name she’d been texting back and forth with since a few days ago.

My Guy 💙

Her stomach flips a little just looking at it. Oniisan still hasn’t told her his name, and she still hasn’t asked for some reason. It’s fine—she’ll know by tomorrow. And besides, My Guy is cute. Very playful.

She taps open the chat and starts typing.

/

Aya stands in front of the mirror, inspecting her outfit from a zillion tiny different angles. A denim skirt, cut above the knee, and an off-white baby tee with soft horizontal lines accentuating her figure excellently. She’s also paired her classic Adidas sambas with lacy socks, juxtaposing the casual, sporty look with a hit of femininity. A few flower bobby pins clip some parts of her bangs back, but she’s left her hair mostly undone, curly locks cascading down her shoulders, because the hair gods had blessed her today— where you wake up and all the layers just fall into place, achieving that perfectly effortless look that all stylists prized.

They’re meeting in Shimokitazawa, which she felt was so properly adult of them. Like, there’s Harajuku, or Shibuya, which she’d been to plenty of times, but Shimokita was supposedly so hip and bohemian; vintage stores, speciality bookstores, distinctive cafes — not to mention that apparently tons of music lovers went there.

Today, she was both a music lover, and had a music lover if you get her gist.

Okay, too far Aya, she chides herself, cheeks starting to flame at the speed of her thoughts. It’s still the first date.

And when she sees that date of hers, she stops dead in her tracks, drinking in the sight of him. He’s like the picture of effortless cool: black cap, lightly distressed baggy jeans and converse with a grey band t-shirt that might have been black once, faded and especially worn at the collar. Her hand itches to touch it, it looks so soft.

She feels a bit self conscious, wondering if she put too much effort into looking the part while he embodied it. But then she catches sight of all the rings on his fingers, and also, there was a smoky sweetness to him, like had he actually put on cologne?

A good bottle too—she could tell by the notes - woody and softly spiced notes of tobacco, rum and vanilla— then plainly he’s tried just as hard to be appealing to her as she had for him. This idea was almost more intoxicating than the scent of that heady cologne mixing with the base of him, and now she’s trying not to breathe in too loudly.

“Hi,” she greets him, beaming. His eyes crinkle, which signalled that he was smiling back. Even in the heat, he still wore his usual mask. 

The cafe they go to is contemporary, designer-y, made softer with wood and natural elements, but something about it is just a little too self-important for Aya’s liking. The walls are lined with plants, but they were splashed out, bumpy, and fixed onto what looked to be planks? How do they even water those? And she’s not a big fan of all the concrete elements, they felt hard and unfinished, like is she at a fancy construction site?

Not mention the menu is—well, pretentious. All roman letters, no translations. And even if it was foreign, Italian, or whatever, it couldn’t hurt to throw some katakana in there.

Aya frowns, paging through it. “How am I supposed to order? Should I just pull out Google Translate?”

Before she can actually take out her phone, Oniisan plucks the menu from her hands, glancing at it with practiced ease. “You love sweets, right?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“For some reason, I can see you. At your desk, bag full of treats.”

It’s a stupidly accurate image. “Wow, I’m so predictable to you.”

She watches as he orders for her in perfect English, his voice low and confident. Aya doesn’t even know what he just said at all, but it sure sounds sophisticated. When the server waits expectantly, Oniisan only shakes his head.

“Aren’t you going to order for yourself?”

Oniisan barely glances at the menu. “I’m not hungry,” he says. Then, as if that’s supposed to be enough, he adds, “I’m just happy being here with you.”

Aya narrows her eyes, aiming for playful but missing the mark—there's a thread of real suspicion she can’t quite smother. “You’re lying. You just don’t want to take off your mask.”

Oniisan falters, his usual easy rhythm disrupted, but then he seems to quickly recover, rolling his shoulders back like the words never landed. “And if that was true?” His tone is very, very light.

“Then I’d have to wonder why.” She doesn’t sound fun at all, she sounds actually accusatory. Before she can try to fix it, Oniisan reacts, gaze dropping to the table.

“But you asked me out while I was wearing the mask. If I take it off, you won’t like me anymore.”

Aya stares. That’s the most stupid thing she’s heard, and she says so. “But I’m dating you now, and I need to know what you look like.”

Oniisan makes no move to take off the mask. He just looks up at her, and it’s like that cool, stylish figure of him just folds into itself. Eyes pleading, miserably puppy-like.

Aya tries to understand. “Look, I get the desire to be perfect, I’m like that too sometimes! But right now…I just want to get to know you.” Here’s hoping that comes out more reassuring than reveal herself as neurotic, too.

“Thanks for saying that. But there’s a lot of things that are hard… for me to tell you. I’m really sorry.” His voice is so low, it almost sounds ashamed. “That’s why it took me so long to text you. Because… I didn’t want you to have to deal with me. Deal with this.”

He’s actually dripping anxiety. Aya relents. It’s the least she could do for him.

“It’s okay,” she promises, “I can wait for you to tell me when you’re ready.”

But her brain has shifted to 5th gear, and it’s not showing any signs of slowing down. All it wants to do is come up with reasons for why, like Chizuru might say, maybe he's a player, maybe he's got 4 or 5 girlfriends you don't know about.

Doubts welling up inside her, one after another.

Maybe, maybe.

These thoughts of hers, Aya can suppress them. It’s a skill she’s developed over the years when it got… too much. She used to be unconsolable when she was younger. Her mind, a barnacle, latching onto things and refusing to let go. So she’s had to learn to push it away by force, brain self-medicated into silence.

But it’s not a free trick.

It’s exhausting. Like trying to enjoy a conversation while ignoring the feeling of ants crawling up your skin. She wants to enjoy this moment, she really does, but it’s like trying to do several things at once, but not being present for any of it.

And Oniisan can tell.

The mood is unmistakably shifting downwards, and Aya feels a light wave of nausea. She hates, hates being that person.

Then, her food arrives.

It’s a small, delicately crafted cake. Chocolate mousse, layered with lemon syrup and a candied Sicilian lemon slice on top, She takes a bite—the tartness of the lemon balanced perfectly against the deep, rich chocolate. And just like that, her focus is back.

It’s delicious. It’s so awesomely delicious, precisely because it’s her favourite flavour combination. It’s not like most people, tell them you like something sweet, and they take a look at Aya, and orders her a strawberry shortcake. This feels very specific, tailored just to her. It’s very peculiar, the way Oniisan knows, like an instinct.

It makes her want to trust him— no, she trusts him.

Think about all the times he made you feel safe, wanted.

The thoughts turn brighter, very bright, and all of a sudden she’s a bird flying, the warm gust of thermals lifting her up, she barely has to flap her wings. She’s a surfer, catching the green wave right before it breaks into whitewater, the gravity taking her seamlessly towards shore.

“Okay, what would you order if you were hungry? Just curious.”

“Well…” Oniisan picks up the menu. His eyes seem to consider each of the options with total seriousness, going bright and curious at parts, as if imagining the taste. That weirdly intense focus is what must make him so thoughtful, Aya thinks. It’s also extremely cute.

Then he points to an item. “The ‘iced spiced coffee’ maybe?” His tones shift as he talks, the roundness of Japanese transitioning smoothly into the sharp, varied sibilants of English.

Aya copies it back, the words foreign and too-big in her mouth. But the way he says it—so dignified—she has to swoon at that, right? Like how lucky can she be, to have the coolest, most thoughtful and sophisticated boyfriend in world.

She smiles at him, very warmly and genuinely, but she smiles mostly to show him how happy she is with him, until he’s looking back at her in the same way, basking in the unspoken high regard she’s offering.

“Thanks, Oosawa-san.” He suddenly, under the table, grabs her hand.

This feels… familiar. Why?

Holding hands just always feels like this, I guess?

Aya gives a little squeeze, seeking reassurance, or maybe giving it. She feels him squeeze her hand back.

It’s always like this. Just when she’s about to give up, or feeling too weird about the situation, his adjoining rhythm calms her down, evens out the sound.

But that’s also what makes it hard to let go, because then the moment will end, and the unease always comes back.

The bird does not know if it has enough food to survive the next migration. The surfer looks out at the sea, exhausted at the idea of paddling back out. How many more times does she have to make the journey? And she wonders, when it happens again, will she be able to stay afloat? Or will she get pulled under?

Outside the café, Oniisan takes off his cap, and puts it on her, “I don’t want you to get sunburned,” he explains, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She almost thought he’d want to take her home, or at least to the station, but he just glances at his phone, almost nervous. “I should get going. I need to start my summer homework.”

“Oh, okay. I won’t keep you then.”

On the long, long, subway ride home, Aya replays the date, careful to skip certain parts of the show. All movies need editing, and the awkward parts get cut, that’s just how it is. No budget for it, really. Wait—

Summer homework?

That must mean… Oniisan is a high school student. Just like her.

We’re the same. With that realization, relief washes over her. She hadn’t even thought to ask, since he’d been so careful to avoid discussing personal topics the whole time, but she still managed to make discoveries along the way.

But more questions come up now. What year? What school?

Maybe they could do their homework together. Compare how it differed from school to school. She wonders what other subjects he was good at, given his competence with English. Probably just about everything. Maybe a model student, the ones who always had their names at the top of test score results. Maybe he went to an elite school, and he’d tease her about how easy she had it. He had to be keen on his studies, given how summer just started, and he was already getting a head start on the homework.

There’s so much to be curious about, but she just has to be patient. No risk, no reward, right?

She can be patient.

/

Aya had taken Aki and Amu to the beach for the bulk of the day, and now they’re finally home, all of them sun-tired with matching red heads spotted with sand.

Her parents are on a much needed trip themselves, relaxing in Hakone for the weekend, so Aya singlehandedly gets the boys cleaned up (haven’t you two splashed enough today?), some food into their bellies (the curry was family-mart instant, shhh, but at least she made the rice), tucked into bed (no, no story time! y’all already old enough to read for yourselves) — in any case she’s managed somehow and now she’s exhausted, but it’s hard to fall asleep for some reason.

She’s cranky; so, so cranky.

It was a fun day, but her little brothers had been all over her—constantly shouting for her attention, begging her to play, wrestling each other until she had to pull them apart. She loves them, obviously. She’s their big sister. But too many days of playing baby sitter, and now it feels like she has nothing left to give. She just wants to be Aya and not the dependable, responsible, always-has-it-together version.

She’s sprawled on her bed now, after a shower, face half-buried in a pillow, the familiar comfort of Nirvana blasting in her ears. She lets the music fill her head, willing it to wash the day off of her.

She pauses.

She has a boyfriend now. She could tell him about her day.

That’s what people do, right? They vent. They share things. She could text Oniisan—Should text Oniisan. A casual Ugh, my brothers were so much today. Or she could spin the chaos of the day into a funny story. He’d reply, he always did, eventually.

But for some reason, her fingers hesitate over the keyboard.

She would be bothering him. All her mundane little feelings. It isn’t like anything happened today was such a big deal, something she needs to drag him down with.

She exits the chat and flicks open Instagram instead.

Doom scroll. Some of her friends have boyfriends too — Oh wow, another digicam post. That’s like, the new purikura, or something. Cute, slightly blurry couple poses in weird angles overlayed with Utada Hikaru for a dose of fake 00’s nostalgia. She would scroll past these before, but now she pauses to save the post, you know, in case she needs ideas.

She keeps scrolling. Then—

"If someone really cares about you, they'll text first just to check in on you. You won’t have to wonder."

Her stomach twists with something ugly. She curses the algorithm, swipes past it quickly.

Okay, but it’s not actually like that. That’s not their relationship. It’s different. He’s like, super duper attentive when they’re together, the most considerate person in the world. Why is she even relating to this? It’s just some dumb, engagement-bait nonsense, worded to make people doubt themselves.

But before she can stop herself, she’s flipping back to old messages with Oniisan. Scanning them. Looking for—what, exactly? Some proof that he actually wants to talk to her?

He always replies. Always.

But… it’s true that he never reaches out first.

Not to ask how she is. Not to check in. Not to tell her something random just because he was thinking of her.

Maybe he’s not used to reaching out. Maybe he’s really shy. She used to go to CD shop all time and they’d just catch up on all the little parts of their day. Funny how she doesn’t go anymore, even though he’s her boyfriend. She keeps waiting for… for what? To be invited? Now that they’re dating, dropping by there seems… there are too many unknowns.

For one, she’s not sure if he’s told his coworker about her. About them. She’s also now acutely aware of what other customers might think, when they look at the two of them together.

She doesn’t want to seem like the desperate girlfriend, who keeps dropping on her boyfriend unannounced at work. The kind of girlfriend who kept tabs on her guy, because she was insecure about their relationship. One-sided, because he never did anything to make her feel better about it.

Her chest feels weird. Tight and a bit hard to breathe, bracing for impact.

It’s not weird to want some kind of reassurance, right?

I swear before we dated, he actually, like, messaged me more.

Did she convince herself this was normal? That she liked the mystery? That it was exciting that he was so unreadable?

Or is she just a gigantic fucking idiot?

Her throat burns. She doesn’t know what she wants to do—throw her phone across the room, scream into her pillow, just do something—no, what she wants to do, is be chill about this, be independent. She has own friends, her own life, she’s popular, you know? She swipes to Chizuru’s contact and dashes off a message.

Afterwards, for some reason, she swipes to Mitsuki’s blank, empty contact.

Stares at it. A thought, like I wish I could talk to you, but she doesn’t let it fully form. Clicks her phone off, rips the charger from the wall for good measure.

Yeah. The battery can drain for all she cares.

/

Shibuya pulsates with life as usual, neon signs blinking on as the early evening crowd descents. Aya expertly weaves through the crowded streets with her friends, avoiding the crossing and the bars, using as many side streets as possible to reach all their usual haunts.

Mega Donki because Chizuru needs eyeliner, and then they laughed it up at Punyus in Shibuya109 because they liked being stupid about it. Finally Daiso because at least for sure you could afford something there, some little trinket like a cute hair clip or an useless keychain.

It’s still fairly early in the night— and since they don’t got any real plans anyways, they might as well walk all the way to Aoyama-itchome so they can look at Miu Miu on the way, though that’s window shopping in the purest sense, too shy to go in with their bags from the budget brands.

They take a small break now, meandering at the park, wasting time, because it’s summer and they have plenty of it, because they’re teens and in the spring of their youth, and who cares anyways.

So fully in this mindset, that Aya feels slightly ambushed when Chizuru casually breaks the comfort of that aimlessness.

“So Aya. How are things going?”

Aya swings her legs back and forth, resting her arms against the metal bars. There’s nobody in the playground behind her, all the kids and families having gone home. “Good.”

“You’ve been real into shopping lately.”

Aya gives a toothy grin. “Well maybe I just miss you guys.”

But it’s Mao, who Aya depends on to help her keep things light, who pushes further this time. “Look, Aya,” she says, unusually direct, “You have to tell us things. We’re your best friends. We got you.”

It’s not that she doesn’t trust them—Aya’s learned she does, deeply. But Oniisan’s struggles, whatever they may be, aren’t hers to share.

And also, she doesn’t want them to think badly of him.

“I know that.” Aya promises. “It’s just… they’re not my issues. I don’t want to blab about someone else’s problems.”

Mao pouts. “But Aya. We’re not here to gossip. We genuinely want to help.”

Aya rolls the weaved cord of a paper shopping bag between her fingers. “I know, I just—”

But she really does need to talk about this, she can’t keep it wrapped up forever. It’s beginning to drive her nuts. Not even Nirvana has the answers.

“Okay, so I think something might be weighing heavily on him, and he’s not really ready to talk to me about it, but…I think it might be something serious. Oh, but!” Aya waves her hands, to dissipate any ideas of mistreatment her friends might have.

“He’s not mean to me because of it or anything! In fact, it’s the opposite, I think he just.. doesn’t want to burden me with it, ’s all.” She’s feeling silly now, when it’s all said out loud like this.

Not your problems, Aya? You’re the one being kept in the dark, yet you’re the one still questioning whether you’re trustworthy enough and deserving of basic respect from this guy.

Chizuru does not say that. Instead, watching Aya’s face carefully with each word, she says: “But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to push him to be more open with you. That’s what makes you a good girlfriend, right? Being there for your boyfriend?”

When put like that, Aya starts to feel there’s a way to be more confident about the whole situation. Being a good girlfriend, that’s what she wants. What she would gladly do for him. It’s not about her, or what she lacks at all. How good those words sound. Being a good girlfriend. Being trusted. Being deserving of intimacy.

“Yeah,” Her smile feels real for the first time that day. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They part ways at the station back in Chiba, Aya giving both of them a quick hug before bouncing off.

Mao and Chizuru walk in silence for a moment before Mao finally speaks. “It’s not about being a good girlfriend at all. You only said that because you’re worried about her getting played.”

“Well, can’t say I trust the guy very much.”

Mao links her arm around her friend as they walk, shoulders periodically bumping against each other. Upwards, the signs of stars twinkling, now that they’re not in the thick of Tokyo anymore. Back where detached houses line up to form neighbourhoods, back where you can actually see the night sky.

“Oh, Chi-chan, you’re the best, you know that?”

/

“I need to talk to you. No, in person. Um, no one’s home today.”

Phone hot against her ear, but at least he can’t see how she’s blushing because of what that might imply. It’s not weird, right? They’ll just talk in the living room. He’s such a gentleman all the time, he would never do anything she wouldn’t want.

It’s evening when he knocks on the door, and when she lets him in, he looks at her, eyes going all soft for a minute, and she’s starting to feel her heart’s in her throat. “What?”

“You’ve got a tan. It’s pretty.” He blurts out, putting a hand to the back of his neck, which is so pale in contrast to hers, as if he’s stayed inside all summer. She feels her own face start to heat up, and then he deposits a little parcel in her hands, wrapped in fancy department store paper, a customary gift, because of course he can’t forget to be so perfect and polite, even when she’d sprung this on him last minute.

Except, she’s suppose to be his girlfriend, right? Can’t he be a little more casual — less guarded, maybe?

Sensing the hesitation, he goes, “Sorry. Too much?”

No, never, you’re fine, I’m just—, she almost starts to say, starts to reassure him, but she manages to stop herself. No, I won’t get caught up in his rhythm. Always his rhythm, when this is music we’re making together.

“Right.” Aya says instead. “Thank you.”

She carefully leaves the gift on top of the entryway console, but instead of going into the living room, she starts walking up the stairs, glancing backwards, the implication to follow not given as a choice. She wants it to be totally in her territory.

They’re in her room now, and she closes the door behind her.

“Your room is really cu—“ he tries, doesn’t even finish before she cuts him off. 

“I don’t even know your name, and you don’t take off your mask. Why? Can’t you at least tell me the real reason?”

He’s saying something like, there’s personal stuff that he can’t share, and he wishes it were different. Nothing about it makes sense to her.

“Why, are you a spy or in the eye witness protection program?” A part of her is still hoping for funny, but it just sounds sad.

She doesn’t think she can hide the hurt anymore. “I want to believe you, but I don’t know if this is weird, if you’re being weird, or if this is okay.”

She takes a deep breath, at least so her voice won’t tremble. “I asked you out because I wanted to get to know you, and I feel like I know you even less than ever before. Is this how it’s suppose to be, or am I the bad girlfriend? I don’ t know, because I’ve never dated anyone before.”

Oniisan looks at her, eyes going wide. “Never?”

“I’ve never told anyone this, but I’ve never kissed anyone. Not just kissing. I've never... I've never even liked anyone before. Before you.” She feels incredibly exposed, saying all this. Huge rolling waves of anxiety thundering, threatening to topple her, but Aya pushes through. She’s already confessed once, she can overcome this.

“And maybe it’s stupid, because I don’t even know what you look like. But I—“

She suddenly feels him, his whole body enveloping hers.

Hugging her. He’s whispering in her ear, if you turn off the lights, I’ll take off the mask.

She doesn’t even think. Immediately, wordlessly, gets up and flicks off the switch.

Rustling motions, and then he’s sitting so docile, legs folded underneath him, on her fuzzy rug by the bed, as if waiting, and so she crouches down beside him.

Slowly, as if not to startle a small animal, puts her hand to his face. Feels everything, from across his cheeks to the bridge of his nose, down to the curves of his lips, which yield under her touch. Feels him, he has beautifully defined features. Why doesn’t he want her to see?

“Is this okay?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

He sounds kind of breathless. Throaty. His hands come up to hers and moves them aside, and then she feels him leaning in really, really close.

“Is this okay?” he asks her.

“It’s okay.”

“What about this?” He brushes his lips against hers.

“More than okay.”

What he does next, he does not ask for. When his mouth parts…when a softness touches the inside of her mouth, a softness she’s never known, but will now commit to a memory so eternal, it’ll be etched in her veins.

More than, more than, more than okay, she wants to scream out loud.

Outside, in the inky blackness, a lone firework calls out, signalling the end of summer. And afterwards, when he’s left her house and promises linger again between them, she sinks deep, deep into her bed and feels a mix of excitement and content pound through the entirety of her body, and thinks, strangely, of all things:

I’ll see Koga-san tomorrow. I’ll ask for her number, then that contact won’t be blank anymore.

As she drifts to sleep, she replays the kiss, trying to recall all the nuances of her boyfriend’s voice. How he sounded as he said her name for the first time.

“Aya-san.”

It was after the kiss, and he had pressed his face against her shoulder, shaking.

“Aya-san, I’m sorry.” He had whispered, over and over again, in the dark, for a very long time.

Chapter Text

A few days into September is also the first day back at school.

Aya wakes up before her alarm. Time for her billionaire routine. Or whatever youtubers call it these days. She does it all, the cute hair and make up and breakfast— but today, she even adds stretching and drinking water using a metal straw out of a fancy glass with ice cubes, just for shits and giggles.

She’s in the classroom at 8am sharp, with her uniform pressed and bangs freshly curled, chatting with Chizuru and Mao. Mao is showing her something trending on TikTok. Aya doesn’t use that app, for her sanity’s sake. Instagram’s bad enough.

“But Aya, TikTok’s algorithm is sooooo much better.”

“Better for what? Like you binging those forcing a glow-up before second semester reels?”

Mao huffs. “Ok, make fun of me all you want, but you gotta wonder. Who in our class do you think will actually show up with a glow-up?”

“Koga-san.”

Chizuru makes an amused sound when Aya shoots her a confused look. “No, Aya, that’s not what I meant.” She gestures at the door. “Koga-san’s literally here,” she says as Mitsuki’s walking in.

Aya turns, and then, she can’t even help it, the hugest smile stretches over her face. It suddenly hits her, how much she’s wanted to see Mitsuki. How much she’s missed her, and all this stuff she wants to talk about. Not just bond over music, but just random blabber such as do you think it’s gonna rain later I hope not I didn’t bring an umbrella.

It’s weird, how you can almost forget what some people are like when you haven’t seen them for a while. Not forget forget, but… their presence, their little habits, the way you love that they exist in your space at all. And now that they’re back, and suddenly everything is good and comfortable and the way it should be.

When Mitsuki sees her grinning, her face softens with relief, like maybe she couldn’t wait to see Aya too?

“Hey, Koga-san, I-“

Where to start? I missed you? Give me your number? Let’s hang out? Maybe one thing at a time? As to not overwhelm the poor girl.

“I missed you! Did you have a good summer?”

“Yeah. It was quiet.”

Aya suddenly feels stupid for expecting Mitsuki to say I missed you too. But Mitsuki’s awkward about this stuff, right?

Don’t over think it. Ugh, I hate how I always have to remind myself.

Chizuru is observing them, seems to come to a decision. She says, “Aya, won’t your boyfriend be jealous if he sees you running up to someone else like that?”

Aya frowns, she had wanted to tell Mitsuki that information herself. She glances at Mitsuki, but Mitsuki’s expression doesn’t change. It stays weirdly, silently still.

“Uh,” She turns back to Chizuru, who hums innocently under her breath, acting like she didn’t just drop a bombshell into the middle of the class.

Narita comes out of nowhere, freakishly attuned to gossip. “What’s this about a boyfriend?”

“Give her space, Narita-kun,” Mao tells him.

Chizuru though, says, “Aya’s dating the guy from the CD shop.”

“Oh my gosh! Shut up! He doesn’t even know who that is!” Aya’s voice is a bit like helium right now. She’s not sure why Chizuru of all people is airing out her business.

But she’s not mad about it. In fact, she’s almost giddy, yet another part of her is really worried about Mitsuki’s reaction, for some reason.

Or complete, total lack of reaction. I guess Mitsuki really doesn’t like this girl gossip stuff, huh?

Unlike Narita, who seems to completely stop in his tracks, something like alarm flashing across his face. He stares at Mitsuki, who looks away.

Aya frowns again. She doesn’t get it. And she really doesn’t like that Narita and Mitsuki are acting like they’re having some sort of weird telepathic conversation in front of her.

What, did they super bond when they went to do committee outreach that time?

Another thought appears in her mind, shrill and wild. Did they hang out over summer vacation?!?!

Now Aya’s mentally rolling up her sleeves, determined. She turns to Mitsuki, and clears her throat, loudly enough that Mitsuki turns back to look at her.

“Koga-san, can I have your number?”

Do it in the middle of classroom with everyone watching, so there’s no way Mitsuki can avoid the request. Wait, why would she ever think Mitsuki would avoid that? They’re friends.

“Oh, sure. One second.”

Mitsuki takes a notebook out of her bag, rips off a piece of it, and writes a number down, which Aya finds odd. How tactile of her, most people just do it over QR code on LINE. 

Mitsuki hands the paper to her. “Oh, but you won’t be able to text, since it’s a landline.”

Aya did not see that coming. A landline? Is Mitsuki’s family super strict? Do her parents have to vet every call?

But Mitsuki seems unwilling to explain further, and who’s Aya to judge, anyways? She has her number, that’s what’s important.

The classroom is already half full, other students filling the room rapidly. Aya gleefully thinks, mission accomplished, watching Narita’s back retreat to his desk, before the teacher calls on him, asks him to collect the summer homework.

Mitsuki groans, and puts her face in her arms. Aya thinks that’s pretty cute. Oh yeah, despite her nerd get up, Mitsuki was…not that great at school, apparently.

Narita’s now back at their desks, expectant. Aya hands him her stack of assignments. She’s not like, a major keener, but she does okay. Mitsuki reluctantly hands over something.

“At least you’ll ace the English assignment,” Narita says, consoling. Aya looks over, questioning.

“Koga’s really good at English.” He explains. “Right, Koga?”

Mitsuki doesn’t say anything.

“It was so cool seeing you whip that out when we were doing the school festival outreach, it was like you were some kind of professional translator.”

“You’re over-exaggerating.” Mitsuki finally says.

The teacher, fed up, yells over, “I said collect homework, not chitchat.” Some other kids laugh, so they all quiet down, Narita moves on behind them, papers piling up in his hands. Aya bites her lip, a weird feeling growing in her chest.

So Koga-san’s a whiz at English. Is that kind of thing common? I mean, that’s cool. Unexpected, but cool. She wonders if Mitsuki’s ever traveled, or if she just studied really hard. Or maybe, it’s from all those songs. Aya’s content with a translation, but maybe Mitsuki looks up every word, memorizing, internalizing it so she can feel the meaning behind the lyrics in real time. That’s very cool. Another thing to ask about.

Well she has her number now. Lots to ask about.

That night, Aya stares at the paper on her desk, the numbers scribbled in messy, slanted hand writing, spaced out just enough to be legible. It feels old-fashioned, intimate, almost. Even though she had made a big show of asking, having it now feels like it was a secret note passed in class.

That makes her nervous. More even more nervous than when she called Oniisan that time. Shaking off the feeling, she punches the numbers in.

A man’s voice picks up. “Yeah?”

Aya startles. “Uh—Hello! Is this the Koga residence?”

There’s a beat. Then, muffled, she hears, “Mitsuki! Why’d you give out the house number? Don’t you have your own cellphone?!”

Aya sits up straighter. Before she can fully process the exchange, there’s fumbling, hurried footsteps, and Mitsuki’s voice come on, sounding flustered. “H-hello?” Aya swallows.

“Oh. Koga-san. Um. It’s Oosawa.” It felt so embarrassing, having to introduce herself like that. Is she going to have to announce it every time? How did people function back without cellphones? They must all had nerves of steel.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mitsuki says back, her voice quiet.

“Is this a good time?”

“Yeah. Um.” Mitsuki coughs. “Thanks for calling.”

She sounds embarrassed too. Now all those things Aya was planning to talk about just falls away to awkwardness. There’s pauses, overlapping moments where they both try to say something, and have to go, oh no, you first. It’s not entirely uncomfortable, but the embarrassment doesn’t go away. Now Aya’s second guessing, maybe I shouldn’t have called.

As if sensing this, Mitsuki says, “Oosawa-san, can I put something on?” Which makes Aya go, yeah? I mean of course I’d like that, and she hears a soft clack of a lid flipping open, the faint creak of hinges settling, whispers of paper and static, a scrape and click. Then music, warm and alive, rising from the whirls of a record.

It’s Fleetwood Mac. The rich notes sound a bit thin, strained over the receiver of the phone, but they listen to the whole first song without talking. Then they’re listening to the whole first side like that, breathing over the phone, making little sounds of appreciation at certain parts— the record spinning and spinning, and Mitsuki’s flipping over it to the other side now, and a lot of time passes, even though it feels like no time at all, and Aya feels small, but in the best kind of way, like she’s simply a note in a melody of a song in an album of something great, part of something bigger.

Before the last song ends, Aya blurts out: “Do you want to hang out this weekend?” It just comes out.

“Yeah." Mitsuki replies, in a voice that sounds like a smile. "Yeah, I’d like that.”

/

The following Sunday is clear and sunny, and with it comes a huge surge of commuters at Chiba station. A mix crowd cluster outside the ticket gates, older folks, families, and students in casual clothes, waiting for friends, checking their phones. Aya scans the faces of oncoming people, she’s not sure what Mitsuki might look like either, without her uniform, but they did decide on the pillar by the bookstore right at 9 am sharp.

She didn’t expect Mitsuki to be dressed up, but there she is, holding two rice balls from the convenience store and looking… very stylish? She’s wearing a white crisp t-shirt, overlayed with a knitted black vest, baggy light-wash jeans, and Doc Martens, but the mary jane style with the double t-straps.

“Um, Koga-san… your casual wear is kinda…nice?”

Mitsuki says, brightly, that Oosawa-san’s very cute too, and leans over to give one of the rice balls to her. She smells like the light floralness of soap, as if she’s just gotten out of shower, and it almost makes Aya want to touch Mitsuki’s nape, to check if it’s still wet.

It reminds her of Oniisan a little, how cool Mitsuki looks, but it’s just softer, girlier. Well yeah, Mitsuki’s a girl, after all, Aya thinks, giggles threatening to spill out. And maybe Aya has a type, or something. She does not know what that thought entails, but there’s a long transit ahead, so she grabs Mitsuki's hands and leads them to the turnstiles.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“Um, but I’d have to know which subway ticket to buy…” but Aya takes out two passes and says, No, no, you got the snacks, so I got this.

When they reach Shimokitazawa, Mitsuki stills. Looks around the station after they get off and says, “Huh,” not like a question, but almost as if she expected it.

“Have you been here before?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” But Aya doesn’t say more. Still holding her hand, she directs them to a cafe.

The same cafe she had gone to with Oniisan. No reason other than it was the only one she knows. Google doesn’t exist or anything. Mitsuki stops at the entrance. Her breath catches. “Here?”

Aya tilts her head. “Yeah, I came here before, and it was nice.” Of course she doesn’t say, I came here on a date. Now she has to admit she doesn’t know why she picked the place, at least to herself. But Mitsuki seems to know for her. Wordlessly walks through the door, navigating the cafe as if she’s been there before.

Inside, Aya orders, copying the way Oniisan ordered in English, including what Oniisan would have ordered for himself. Then hesitates, going, “I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself. I don’t even know if that’s what you would like.”

Mitsuki says, “No, you got it right… it’s actually perfect.”

The “iced spiced coffee” turned out to be an iced coffee brewed through a Vietnamese phin filter using a 'robust coffee bean and ground spices of cardamom, cloves, and star anise.’ Well, Aya had to get waiter to explain it, since she really had no clue about the whole thing. Feigning interest, she chats with the waiter about the whole ‘speciality coffee process’, but out of the corner of her eye, she’s carefully watching for Mitsuki’s reaction.

She seems so happy with the drink. Sometimes she’d puff her cheeks up, like a hamster. Unexpected. Now the waiter’s gone, and Aya can’t stop looking at Mitsuki’s mouth, the way her lips pucker around the plastic pink straw like a kiss. That mouth pulling away to ask her, “Oosawa-san, what are you listening to recently?”

Aya tells her about this band called Superheaven, that has Defttones vibes. Mitsuki is nodding in interest. Occasionally, between every sip of the iced coffee, flashes an impish grin, pokes out her tongue a little, going mmmm.

Who is this adorable creature? Aya feels like some part of her brain is short-circuiting. Another part is feeling very territorial, like how to make sure everybody else gets the memo that these moments with Mitsuki belong to her. She swallows, and her fingers reach into a bag, feeling the smooth metal of a lens. “Hey, you know what? We should totally take a selfie with my digicam.”

“Figures you’d be into that.” Mitsuki must think it’s a gyaru thing, but she’d actually borrowed the camera from Mao. She actually even had to look up how to use it last night, and meticulously fiddled with the controls. Aya cooly takes it out and and snaps it from an angle above. Please let it turn out good. She checks the screen and, yes! its actually perfect.

“Can I post this later? And tag you?” In one smooth motion, she passes over both the digicam and her cellphone, instagram already preloaded with the search page. This action usually ensures the other person to go on autopilot, which, as Mitsuki begins typing something in, proves true.

So she does have one. It’s a private account, which is expected, Aya smiles to herself as she sends the follow request.

After the cafe, they check out a vintage store nearby. There’s a lot of cute stuff there, and Aya’s holding one in particular, thinking hard. “Are you going to buy that?” Mitsuki prods.

“I think it would look really good on you.” Mitsuki immediately takes the shirt, and goes up to the register, telling the salesgirl she’d take it. The salesgirl, who had been acting sleepy and bored the entire time, suddenly jerks into motion, staring, as if burning a hole through the both of them, before very enthusiastically bagging up the item.

Wow, the people here are hella weird, Aya’s thinking, but I think I kinda like it. I like Shimokita. Maybe even more than Shibuya. I should come here more often. But it’s not really Mao and Chizuru’s jam. I guess that means I can only come here with—

“Do you want to go anywhere else?” Mitsuki interrupts. “I think we still have some time.” She looks at her wrist, of which she’s wearing a vintage watch, but instead of a band it’s on a silver chain. She’s taking the analogue thing really far, but she makes it look so good though.

Though honestly, at this point Mitsuki could be wearing a paper bag and Aya will probably think it’s amazing. Wow, it’s just amazing how she’s got the cutest friend, whose preciousness only she knows about right now, like an unreleased song. Amazing, just amazing.

Mitsuki’s looking at her though, like she doesn’t want to go home yet, but Aya doesn’t actually want to shop anymore.

She did look up one other thing…

“Mind taking a detour on the way home?”

That night, she checks instagram, and Mitsuki’s accepted her request. Her profile only has a few photos, and a few followers, but Mitsuki herself follows a heck lot of bands.

Aya thinks back, trying to decide what music fits the day. On the train ride home, they’d stopped over at Shinbashi station, following the signs for the monorail. They got in line for the first car, sitting right up front. A huge window pans across the skyline as the train moves silent and slow, as if floating. They’re both leaning against the tinted glass as buildings flicker past.

Suddenly, the train lifts higher, curving gracefully towards the Tokyo bay. The sun dips low, rippling gold and pink over the water. You can see Rainbow Bridge in the distance, the silhouette of the giant sky wheel of Odaiba’s Palette Town, the blinking red lights of cranes and cargo ships, dotted along the port.

They pass directly over the water, and the windows of Toyosu’s skyscrapers, lit up like tiny stars, shimmer against the dark murkiness of the water below and glass panes of the train cocooning them. Long streaks of blues and purples in the expanse of the bay, cars wind through elevated highways, and the endless glow of Tokyo seems almost quiet, stretched towards the horizon.

Aya doesn’t remember what they talked about. And now, instead of the usual favourites, the snatches of song that comes into her head is mainstream stuff, like what you hear on the radio. It’s in Japanese too, so she knows the meaning to all of the words, like The Pillows, or like Bump of Chicken, or like the soundtrack to a movie, the kind that makes you cry, a streak of light smeared across the night sky, the rock sound giving way to an overly sentimental tune.

/

When Aya gets to school on Monday, Mitsuki is there before her. She must look shocked, because Chizuru even nudges her towards the other girl, as if releasing her from the social expectations of their friend group.

She greets Mitsuki, and Mitsuki beams at her, almost like a different person. Like the person that told her she’d see her tomorrow yesterday. Aya takes out her earbuds from her bag, and then they’re both listening to a song together, reacting together, poses so dramatic that Chizuru and Mao flinch. “Ack!”

“Almost forgot where we were…”

“That was close…!” Aya gasps out, taking out her earbud.

“What are you listening to…” Mao has to ask, though a bit cautiously.

“Willow’s new album!!” Aya flips her phone to show her friend. “She used to be more pop-punk before… but this album’s pretty intense…” and stops herself when she can imagine the faces Mao and Chizuru would make. “Oh, ummm—“

“That’s right! It’s the kind of thing you should listen to when you want to smash stuff!!” Mitsuki has both of fists up, face full of passionate emotion.

“Pfft, What’s with that?” Mao’s laughing now, covering her mouth with one arm.

“Do you often wanna smash stuff, Koga-san?” Chizuru quips, taken aback, but amused.

“Uh, well…”

Did she protect me? Aya wonders. And are my friends joining in and having fun with it? Are my worlds colliding, but in the best way ever? Her heart suddenly feels full.

The classroom’s still mostly empty when Narita comes in, and goes straight for their group.

Okay, I guess I have to add another person to this world. Annoying, but she knows deep down Narita’s not a bad guy, and also, she thinks Mao’s kinda into him. And okay, maybe she’s really just annoyed because Narita’s like, really into ESP with Mitsuki, or something, because he’s giving her another look now. Aya thinks about the day before, letting that warm her, and decides, okay, even though she does want Mitsuki all to herself, maybe in the long run, it’s not bad to learn how to share.

So she’s about to dispel her own pettiness and greet Narita, but Narita starts talking before she could.

“Koga, can I talk to you after school?” It’s not a question, and Narita must be taking lessons from  Chizuru, because his look is very pointed, very unlike him. He then glances at the rest of them, drops a brief greeting, and goes over to his own desk, opens his textbook.

The whole exchange is weird, and Mitsuki looks pale. She takes the earbud out, puts it back on Aya’s desk, and doesn’t look at Aya for the rest of the morning.

The bell goes, and they’re walking out of class, the group splitting off in different directions for lunch. Mitsuki barely says a word. She clearly wants to be alone, now. Goes off somewhere.

Maybe she’ll feel better after? But she’s got a sinking feeling now. Anxious. Mitsuki’s not suppose to be someone who makes her feel anxious though.

What if this is what’s meant for me? All the people I love, destined to act hot and cold forever, never telling me anything.

“It’s not just you, Aya.” Chizuru says, as if reading her thoughts, as they sit at their desks, taking out lunchboxes. “That girl is like on some whack Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde shit. Goes in and out of herself all the time.”

Mao laughs, but it’s a bit forced. “Maybe she’s gone to smash stuff.”

Aya feels bad now, dragging her friends into it. When worlds collide. She should just deal with Mitsuki on her own. Or let Mitsuki deal with it on her own. She tries to eats her lunch slowly, fill up the entire lunch hour.

Back in their seats now, and the whole afternoon just drags on and on. Stale, stiff, distant, holding back. Yet Mitsuki’s almost acting mournful about it, as if she’s secretly resenting Aya for not asking.

Why are you acting like I’m the one pushing you away? The thought makes Aya feel reckless.

She’s counting the seconds until the bell rings. Mitsuki gets up and walks out of the classroom and doesn’t even try to say goodbye. Aya counts to five in her head, and then follows.

Maybe it’s wrong, but she doesn’t even care as she tracks down Mitsuki and Narita. They’re talking a lot, and she could eavesdrop right now, but… as mad as she is, she doesn’t want to be that person. So Aya ducks into the stairwell, and waits.

Mitsuki had looked a little vulnerable, a little angry. Scared.

How come you can act like that in front of him, but shut down in front of me?

It’s jealousy she’s feeling, Maybe not purely, but a lot of it. A gnawing feeling in her chest.

Aya realizes with a start, she hasn’t talked to Oniisan for a while. What was the last text she’d sent him? And when?

Not since the entire time second semester started?

Surely that can’t be true.

How many days ago was that?

But it’s not like he texted her, either. Except, it feels like he doesn’t even exist anymore. What about them as an unit?

He disappears as soon as he’s out of her sight, as if he’s a concept.

And the weirdest thing. She’s totally calm about it.

If I love him so much, if I’m such a good girlfriend, how can I be calm about that?

And why is she so enraged and jealous over what’s in front of her?

Chapter Text

A few days into September is also the first day back at school.

Mitsuki watches as Aya beams at the slip of paper, carefully saving it to her phone. She had almost said another number. The one Aya already had in her phone. That hesitation—that second of delay—was bad. Aya notices things like that.

/

The way Aya had looked at her when she had said, “I don’t even know what you look like.”

Doesn’t know exactly how to respond to that. How can she respond, when she’s the reason someone else’s heart is breaking? But her body seems to know. Claiming her with a kiss, all the while knowing that she’d wake up the next morning and see Aya again in the daylight, as someone else entirely. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Wait, you want comfort now? Are you a freak?

She buries herself in Aya’s shoulders. It feels so safe there, like everything would be okay. “Aya-san, I’m sorry.” Aya held her through it all. Hadn’t questioned it. That was good. The no questions part, not the kiss.

The kiss was so, so good. Aya was so soft, and she had wanted it so much. Wanted me.

She does not want you. So why did she confess? She thought you were someone else. But that person, it’s not like it’s not you, right? But she would never have confessed if she knew it was you. So who the hell did she confess to?

It’s not like I wanted to be asked out as Oniisan. But a part of you likes being wanted like this, no?

You’re disgusting, trying to offload the responsibility, transfer that part onto Aya. Look up at the sky later, how do I disappear from here?

/

Mitsuki tells Aya, I have to get started on the homework. Takes off her hat, puts it onto Aya. Makes sure she’s okay. Walks around a bit. Or a long time. Avoiding some places she knows. Gets a drink from the vending machine. Sees her own reflection in the can. Can’t avoid herself. Can’t finish the drink. 

There’s a bar, tucked behind the main streets. Mitsuki doesn’t go in, but outside in the alleyway, you can hear muffled music. It’s music she likes, so her fingers tap against her knee in time.

Two girls stumble out; drunk and laughing. They’re holding hands. Mitsuki’s staring, maybe.

One of the girls say, “Hey, that cute guy is looking at us!”

“Whassup, Oniisan?”

Don’t.

Joe calls her. “Where’re ya at, Mitsuki?”

“Shimokitazawa.” See, she tells the truth sometimes.

“Shimo— what.. may I remind you you have a curfew?! You need me to pick you up?”

“I’m going on the subway now.”

“Wait, are you with a friend?” Joe sounds excited. Happy for her, because Mitsuki hasn’t had a friend since, since—

I just want to it to be normal. No, you don’t. You wouldn’t even wear a skirt so your friend won’t get bullied.

/

It’s not my fault. I couldn’t help it. I wanted it to work. You couldn’t help holding her hand? You couldn’t help hugging her? You couldn’t help kissing her? You couldn’t help wanting her? You couldn’t help letting her want you? Shut up, I didn’t mean for it to get that far. But it did.

/

Gets home 2 hours later, Joe alternating between wanting to scold her or congratulate her, settles on both. “Don’t stay out so late without telling me! Wait, is your friend that girl from—  I haven’t seen her in a while. Tell her to come by more!“ God, so annoying. Good. Focus on being that, a petulant teen who sulks to her room, blasting music.

Aya had texted her, thanking her for the date. Mitsuki finally texts back at some point before thankful sleep descents, “I’m really glad. Good night.”

/

Mitsuki’s almost glad that Narita wants to talk. Talk some sense into me, Narita, because I can’t seem to do it.

“So Oosawa is dating the CD shop guy? She mean you?”

Mitsuki laughs. “He’s like a made-up person at this point.”

Narita, shaking his head. “Man, how do you get yourself into these things?”

“Just from existing, I guess.”

“Look, maybe it’s not my place. But I just think…” He trails off. He sighs. He’s kinda looking at her weird, like very sad or something.

Mitsuki thinks he’d maybe even hug her, if she’d let him. Can’t have that.

“I’ll figure it out, though. But please don’t say anything to her? I promise it won’t affect the festival committee stuff.”

After that, Narita tries to reason with her some more, but eventually gets the hint that she really wants to be left alone, that she’s resistant to any kind of sense after all. He leaves for the day, but he’ll probably check up on her again tomorrow, she thinks. He’s kind of a dork like that. Maybe he’s her friend, or something. Really can’t have that.

Mitsuki rounds the corner, and freezes. Aya’s in the stairway. How much did she hear?

/

“I’ll wait for you to tell me when you’re ready.”

Aya promised. She promised but she cornered Mitsuki still, is insisting Mitsuki come over. So don’t go over there. Give another excuse. But still, really curious about Aya’s house. Can’t pass up on the chance to see it. No, that makes no sense. You wouldn’t even put in shifts at the CD shop because you were so scared about the whole thing. Didn’t want her to drop in. She didn’t come the whole summer though. Now you’re thinking, why aren’t you coming anymore?

/

Mitsuki’s shaking, and can’t stop really. She holds onto her own upper arm uselessly as she debates whether to just run down the stairs. Like just totally ignore Aya and act insane? As if she hasn’t been acting nuts already, and Aya has put up with it the entire time.

You, so giving, so selfless. And me, doing this to you, over and over and over again.

/

Another dull summer day comes to an end, at home, at the shop. Then suddenly, you’d text me. How’s it going? I take a really long time to reply. So the texts get more and more quiet, until they stop.

I’ll think about texting you, when you’re quiet like that. I can’t stand the idea of you disappearing completely. But then, you always come back first. You won’t give up on me. No matter how hesitant. How uncertain. How sad. How scared.

Hey, I know what you’re doing. I know you don’t really expect this to work out. But you’re hoping, aren’t you? And I want to be the thing you’re hoping for, but how can I be?

/

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something happened, right? Please tell me, Koga-san, please.” Curly pink hair, framing a face full of concern and care.

Please don’t look at me like that. I don’t deserve it. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you though.”

It has everything to do with you. But why should she have to fight for someone who doesn’t even want her?

Oh god, she said that last part out loud.

“You… think I don’t want you?” Aya breathes. Looking at her with something akin to wonder. “Oh. Oh.”

She has to step back, because Aya’s getting really close. “Koga-san.”

“Mitsuki-san.” It feels really good to hear her name in Aya’s voice. Not Oniisan, or whatever.

Then Aya says, in the softest, most curious way, that it makes her shudder upon hearing it. She wants to close her eyes, but she doesn’t think she can miss this. “Mitsuki-san, I like you more than a friend.”

Heart so incredibly loud in her chest. She feels Aya putting her hands everywhere on her body. At first cautiously, but then those hands become more bold, more urgent. Down her sides. Then up. Stopping below her chin, as if she’s holding Mitsuki up by her throat. Stroking her neck, so very very very very lovingly slow.

It’s too much. Yet it’s never enough. The prior shaking completely stops. Another type starts though. Mitsuki doesn’t want to know what she even looks like right now. She feels completely unraveled. 

“Do you like that?”

She can’t quite make her mouth work. She can at least nod, right? Her back is flush against the wall. Aya uses her other hand to hold hers, rubbing where the thumb meets the palm. It feels like none of her body belongs to herself, like it’s all Aya’s. Aya leans in, her fingers curling in Mitsuki’s skin, her mouth hot.

But then that kiss. The familiarity of that kiss. The familiar hand in hers.

With a shock, Aya pulls away.

She knows.

Aya knows the truth. 

Chapter Text

A million scenes, words said, expressions made going through Aya’s mind. All clicking together.

How did she not know. How could Mitsuki not tell her.

Even that idiot, Narita, seems to have known.

Mitsuki begins, Oosawa-san, I—.

She stops what she’s going to say, lips sucking inwards. Her lips are so dark right now, they look bruised.

A part of Aya, a very distant part, seems to be thinking in what feels like an out of body experience. Did I do that?

“So which part of you is real?” It comes out nasty.

Is that her voice? She wouldn’t talk like that, not to someone she loves. Mitsuki isn’t saying anything, but she looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here right now.

A heat that feels foreign, angry and red, moves through Aya’s entire body.

“Was everything a lie?”

Mitsuki finally opens her mouth. Not even her usual awkward. Just a weird, low voice. “The part… that thought you’d be happy…”

Is she fucking for real.

”Stop messing around. Do I look happy to you?"

They’re just looking at each other. Mitsuki will say the right thing. There must be some magical words that would make all this okay again. C’mon, Koga-san. Help me feel okay about this. As fucked up as this is, I think you can fix this.

Mitsuki says: “Can we at least be friends again?”

Or she could say the shittiest thing ever instead. Aya doesn’t even let herself feel disappointed, so much as she just wants to laugh now.

“Koga-san… the way you just made me feel…I don’t think we were ever friends…”

So bitter, more than she intended. No, maybe she wants that. There’s so little distractions in this moment, actually. Endless rooms in her mind, huge empty spaces when her head is usually dense with so much noise. There’s perfect clarity right now, it would be beautiful if it were any other thing.

Mitsuki doesn’t say anything to that. Of course she doesn’t, she’s forever the shrinking violet, the distant part of Aya snipes.

She could add something else, to make it better. Try to be a little nicer about it maybe. But she doesn’t think Mitsuki deserves it, and why should she, in the midst of betrayal, have to do all that? Discover the truth by herself, coax Mitsuki out. Poor little Mitsuki, oh poor her, but what about Aya? She’s a wholeass person too.

Her skin, it feels like it’s on fire, it’s that painful. She had pressed them both against the wall. Doing this on school property, she didn’t think she was that kind of person. Learning a lot about herself right now, I guess. Whether she wants to or not. That’s how life works, really.

She turns around, the space between them growing wider and wider, until Mitsuki completely disappears from view.

She’s home, and she doesn’t even know how she got back here. But the noise in her head returns with a vengeance. Thud thud thud. Louder than ever.

How could you.

Back to that time.. and that other time.. and …

There’s too many moments to even count. Maybe she should make a scrapbook. Burn it. Then there will be at least some sort of release.

She’s on her bed, her face against her pillow, waiting for the tears to come. But for some reason, it never does. And now she’s dry heaving over the sink, choking, her own breath a traitor. When the water from the shower, turned to the perfect temperature, pours over her, it feels both freezing and scalding at the same time. When she tries to shut her eyes, willing silence to come, something continues to fall inside of her, crashing over and over again. When she pulls her comforter around her, it’s only rawness on her skin, scraping and rubbing, so much that she wonders why it’s not bleeding, and in the middle of the night, sleep long having eluded her, she realizes she has to close the curtains to her window, because even the wedge of the moon frightens her, its light mockingly gentle, gaze an unforgiving damnation.

/

Aya eats breakfast, or pretends to, because honestly if she really tried, she’d probably throw it all up. She’s really just pushing yogurt around in a cup, so much that the solids are moving away from liquid, separating.

How she’s suppose to go to school feeling like this, she doesn’t know, but, she doesn’t want to worry her mom. Or she doesn’t want to seem so badly off that her mom has to ask, because she doesn’t think she can explain anything, or even gather the energy to avoid explaining it.

Amu comes up to her, he only reaches slightly above her waist, and he’s hugging her tight around there. He’s saying he’ll play with Aki all day, that she doesn’t have to bother with them. He’s saying, mom will take us out tonight, so you have the house all to yourself, Oneechan. He sounds kinda scared, actually. She’d always known he was really intuitive, but he’d never been that careful about it. He’d mostly use that intuition to tease people, push their buttons. She wonders what he sees now, acting like this, or maybe he’s being forced to grow up. Maybe getting knocked down that hard changes more than yourself, when you’re a big sister to someone. She lifts him up to her lap, hugs him back that way, and almost thinks she could cry, but she doesn’t. 

The CD store, she stopped visiting that place a long time ago. Endless free time in the evenings for a while now. And no more trying to make a certain someone happy, trying to figure out how to reach someone who didn’t want to be there for her back, so much that this person became two people to do it? That shit was so crazy, that anybody would tell Aya it was all on them, not her. Doesn’t make her feel better to be in the right though. She would have rather been in the weeds than to be any type of righteous at all, so righteous that she feels like a different person now.

So much time she has, this new person she just became, that she could join a club, get all A’s, get really good at karaoke, endless opportunities. Yeah right. Just more hours to have to stop herself from wanting to die. She’s not that kind of person though. She’s strong, but is that why the tears don’t come?

When she gets to school, she still doesn’t have a plan at all, just resigned to going through the motions, but it turns out it’s not as hard as she thinks to avoid someone who sits beside you, who knew?

Mitsuki doesn’t say anything to her, obviously. She’s acting like she’s air, or the dead space that must reside between walls. Except when Aya’s eraser falls over, Mitsuki literally asks to go to the bathroom, or the school nurse, or whatever the fuck she’s pretending to do these days, and Aya hunches over to pick it up, trying not to scream.

So clearly it’s possible to avoid anything that reminds her of Mitsuki, but actually it’s also everywhere. A song starts streaming on spotify after her playlist ends that just immediately jolts her upwards into standing, toothbrush slack in her jaw. Black Hole Sun, Soundgarden. Then a random passerby, their silver jewellery glittering in the sunlight. The ghost of something that could be their own conversation lingers, in the banter of another couple chatting on the street.

She feels helpless. She swears she never noticed these things before.

When did the world have so much of you in it?

Her friends notice, of course. It must be bad, because they don’t ask her to tell them anything this time. They’re just suddenly with her all the time at school, following her to the bathroom, huddling close at her desk, as if trying to shield her from the world.

They do their best to cheer her up, too. They take her out for food. Not a cafe though, I can’t stand those, she tells them. Chizuru, shaking her by the shoulders: “Spicy food, Aya! I’m talking about something that’ll numb your tastebuds AND your brain!”

Mao, bless her heart, procures an old Foo Fighters CD from somewhere, putting it on her desk, saying, “You like this stuff, right?” It’s small, but it makes Aya take pause.

She has dreams. Or are they memories? Both with Mitsuki and Oniisan. Moments bleeding into each other —they’re laughing at a stupid inside joke, listening to music in the store. That was so long ago. She still remembers stuff like that? Mitsuki holding her hand, smiling so softly sweet, it feels like Aya has ice cream in her mouth. Mitsuki presses her knees against hers, as the train lifts them into the air. Oniisan lowers his mask, says, Oosawa-san, it’s me. It’s me, Aya-san. A blinding light—-

And then, she wakes up. The dreams feel pastel, overly saccharine and sweet, reminds her of the pop music she hates. At least reality right now, though, was similar to her favourite songs. Loud, angry, sometimes forlorn.

It’s her listening routine that’s the problem. She can’t bear to put the CD into her sound system. And that thing, it’s a monster, taking up so much space in her room. It’s helped me when I was going through a hard time, the college student had said,

Said to a separate person, a person who never knew what it felt like to have their heart ripped out except through the chorus of a song, an entire, entire lifetime ago.

Me too, she wants to say back, except I don’t know what happened, because now it’s drowning me, trying to kill me.

So she wanders. Going to different parts of town, trying different foods. Goes into a mix media type of store, where they have both CDs and books. Goes over the spines with her hands. Someone who works there comes up to her, asks her if she needs any help. It’s a girl around the same height, with short brown hair, who looks cool and kind. A pretty girl.

There’s this new part of Aya, that she knows about now, and it’s… interesting, something she should probably explore. Except there’s really only one person she actually wants to explore that with, who she has already decided to banish from her world. Now she’s going to have to keep this part of her locked up, maybe forever. What’s worse is she can’t go back to the way she used to be, before she knew, or could pretend not to know. Only limbo awaits. So Aya says no, and leaves the store empty-handed.

Did she ever end up crying? Maybe. It was very hazy. She doesn’t remember when, if it was a school day or a weekend. Deep into the night, she had dug out.. a hat.. from the back of her dresser. And maybe she had worn it for a while, just sitting on the floor beside her bed, sitting where someone else had sat, once. And maybe she had clutched that hat to her chest as she curled up on her bed. And maybe it was then her cheeks had finally felt slimy, her breaths came out short, she had finally fallen asleep, actual sleep, not just making her body the shape of a sleeping person, and maybe, but in the end it didn’t matter at all. She woke up, and every day was still the same.

She hears about it on Monday. From Mao. Mitsuki talked to her Friday after school, Chizuru that is, and Mao was there.

Mitsuki asks, “Can you guys do something?”

Chizuru says, “You don’t think we tried? You’re the one who clearly did something, you fix it.”

Mitsuki says, in a classic Mitsuki-way, that she can’t, she’s nobody. And oh how Chizuru got pissed.

“I’m sorry if I ever said anything offhandedly to make you feel that way. But Aya clearly doesn’t think so. She put her whole heart on the line for you, but you’re still skulking around. Why? And we don’t even care like, that you think you’re suppose to be a loner, or whatever. We don’t even care that you’re a girl.”

Mitsuki has the gall to look surprised. “What do you mean by that I’m a girl…”

Chizuru continues: “Like, I was mean to you sometimes because you had something with Aya that we didn’t understand. But that something, it’s important to her, and I get that already, so…” She sounds irritated. “That’s all I’m saying to you about it.”

Mitsuki mutters an apology and leaves. Mao comes up from behind where she was waiting and says to Chizuru, “You’re a big softie,” and Chizuru tells her to shut up. Mao doesn’t tell Aya this last part though. That’s just between Chizuru and her.

The next day, Mitsuki skips school. Aya pointedly doesn’t acknowledge it, but then again she barely talks for the entire duration of their morning hangout. Throughout the day, Chizuru sneaks looks at Aya, and when Aya catches her, the girl just flashes a smile and a peace sign out of all things.

Great. Back to crying on the inside, and thinking the world won’t know.

Chizuru can’t help the disappointment. I guess that’s what you get, when you fucking get invested in people.

She looks over, past her friend, at Mitsuki’s empty desk, the late September sunlight streaming through the window, almost idyllic, and thinks: What am I suppose to do if that’s your answer, Koga-san?

In my eyes
Indisposed
In disguises no one knows
Hides the face
Lies the snake
And the sun in my disgrace
Boiling heat
Summer stench
Neath the black, the sky looks dead
Call my name
Through the cream
And I'll hear you scream again
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Won't you come
Stuttering
Cold and damp
Steal the warm wind, tired friend
Times are gone
For honest men
Sometimes, far too long for snakes
In my shoes
Walking sleep
In my youth, I pray to keep
Heaven send
Hell away
No one sings like you anymore
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come? (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Hang my head
Drown my fear
Till you all just disappear
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come (Black hole sun, black hole sun)
Won't you come
Won't you come

-Black Hole Sun, Soundgarden, 1994

Fri, July 28th at 10:10pm

Oosawa-san, sorry for the late reply. I had to deal with some things, and I just wanted to make sure I was in the right headspace so I can give your confession a proper reply. I’m really happy that I’m someone you like, like that. I’d be happy to go out with you. I understand if you don’t want to anymore, though.

Thank you for texting me. Of course I still want to!!

And are you okay? Was it work related?

Sorry, am I asking too much personal questions? I’m just really glad you texted me.

No, it’s fine. The shop is fine. How have you been?

Well it’s summer vacation for me starting like….NOW :) so… you could say I’m great!

That’s exciting. So that means you’re free to go on a date…like soon?

Wow, um, YES???? Next Saturday?

Fri, July 28th at 11:45pm

Is that too soon? Do you have work?

Next Saturday sounds good.

Where should I meet you? Should I meet you at the shop?

lol no I work there!

Omg true. Duh. Don’t mind me, I’m so stupid sometimes.

You’re not at all. But it’s getting late, let’s figure out the details later?

Yeah, of course. Good night!!!!

Good night, Oosawa-san.

Thurs, Aug 3rdth at 11:22am

So where should we go? I’m so excited!!

Thurs, Aug 3rdth at 1:47pm

Have you ever been to Shimokitazawa?

No! But I’ve heard it’s really cool!

Well, on Saturday we could go to this cafe around there. Would you like that? Is that too far for you?

Nah not at all. I totally want to go. Let’s go, pleaseeeee :D

We could meet at Shimokitazawa station and walk through Chazawa-dori? So you know how to get to Kinshicho station right? And then from Kinshicho you can just take this line…

OK!! What time should we meet? 11am?

and yes dw! I’ll find my way :)

Oh the cafe doesn’t open that early haha. Let’s meet for 1pm.

Sounds good ill see u Saturday *^_^*

See you then.

Sat, Aug 5th at 7:35pm

Thanks for the date today! The cafe you introduced was so nice, we should go back again

Sun, Aug 6th at 2:01am

I’m really glad. Sorry for the late response. Good night.

Sun, Aug 6th at 9:08am

Oh no you must be so tired, you said u had a lot of HW???

Tues, Aug 8th at 10:12am

Hey, I hope I’m not bothering you, but just wanted to check on u? U ok?

No, you’re fine!

Thurs, Aug 10th at 2:03pm

How’s it going? R u doing hw?

Oh no, I’m not.

Haha, did you finish it all already???? Maybe u can help me??? I know we go to diff schools, but like, some of it has to be the same right?

Oh I mean, I’m not done. It’s kind hard isn’t it? Like they give us so much. I don’t know if I’d be much help for you.

Wait, what school do you go to? Is it Chiba Higashi?

No, not that one, but good guess.

Why :0 are you going to show up at the gates and walk me home? 

Nah. I mean, unless u want me to?? ;)

Thurs, Aug 10th at 10:43pm

Sorry that was a joke.

Fri, Aug 11th at 11:22am

Well if you did that’d be pretty great, but it’s summer right now :( guess we’d have to wait until school starts again

You’re the best you know that

Thank you and you are as well.

<3

Fri, Aug 11th at 8:01pm

Oh sorry I didn’t mean to text that, don’t read into it? I’m just used to doing that with my friends, haha.

Mon, Aug 14th at 8:01pm

Hiiii, how are you?

Mon, Aug 14th at 11:11pm

Just wanted to send u this song:  https://open.spotify.com/track/57Xjny5yNzAcsxnusKmAfA

Tues, Aug 15th at 2:39pm

Sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. I just fell asleep. And you don’t need to worry about your text. Just so you know, you don’t ever need do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I love that song btw. I’m listening to it right now.

Omg, me too…

Tues, Aug 22rd at 2:39pm

Here’s a song: https://open.spotify.com/track/4fT8jBmL1EZxPwdWT07l1s

I miss u. Im sorry

Why are you sorry? I’m sorry. Miss you too, I want to see you too.

Just been busy w stuff. Sorry things are always chaotic :( you shouldn’t have to put up with it. I feel bad about it.

Don’t feel bad. Just know u can always talk to me ok? When u r ready of course.

I know. Thank you

Sun, Sept 3rd at 10:07am

I need to call you.

Sun, Sept 3rd at 11:12am

(Google maps screenshot of address)

Sun, Sept 3rd at 10:15pm

Hey, thanks for today. I’m sorry if I was pushy about it. I didn’t mean to seem like I don’t trust you, because I do. You’re good, you know that? Like really really good.

Sun, Sept 3rd at 10:35pm

You’re really good too. Don’t worry so much. Get some sleep, okay? I’ll message you soon. 

Chapter Text

That constant aching sound. It’s not sharp, not loud—just a dull pressure, like a song looping in the background that she doesn’t want to hear anymore, but there’s no way to turn it off.

No salvation for the wicked, so it’s fine.

/

“…”

It’s a clear morning, nary a cloud in the sky. Mitsuki, his precious niece, is sitting by the kitchen window. She’s holding a cup of coffee in her hands, her usual routine.

But wait. Something’s off. Joe recognizes that cup. It’s his cup of tea from yesterday. He’d left it out on the table last night, half-full. Ginger-rooibos. The tea, which he keeps because he’s in his woo phase, not because it reminds him of his ex-girlfriend Kanna. He and Kanna broke up years ago— I mean, to be influenced in these stupid ways and have that influence lasts all of eternity, that does a number to a man’s pride.

Back in the present: It’s not making sense to him, though, that Mitsuki is drinking the ginger-rooibos tea, which she proclaims to hate, with the face of someone who’s experiencing pure serendipity. Even taking account that maybe Mitsuki’s tastes somehow changed overnight, the tea must be disgusting and cold by now, the teabag steeped for hours. Did someone prescribe Mitsuki onto a path of Theravada? The silences of the past few days seems to suggest so.

Speaking of silence…

When was the last time she listened to music? In fact, now that Joe thinks about it, he doesn’t think she’s listened to music for days.

Okay, Joe finally admits to himself, something is very, very, wrong.

He watches her for a while from the hallway before he sighs. “Alright. Get changed.”

Mitsuki doesn’t move from her spot, doesn’t even glance up. “Why? I’m not really in the mood to go out.”

“Didn’t ask. Come on.”

She pulls a face, but she goes to her room and puts on a sweater, big knit stitches loose and intentionally teased with holes at the edges, still looking so annoyingly handsome even though she was probably in the worst funk of her life, and follows him out.

He drives them both to Shibuya, pay for stupidly expensive parking. They take the elevator to the top of Shibuya Sky, and now they’re looking over the city on the observation deck. All around them only commotion, you felt swept up in it. People are streaming in from all directions at the crossing, and tourists are taking photos at the Hachiko statue. Joe’s pleased with himself, smirking a little—a day out with her uncle in the busiest corners of the city will surely jolt Mitsuki into the waking world.

He drags them to the Jingubashi at Harajuku next. There’s strange characters everywhere, you felt normal next to them. There’s people dressed in British rocker style for a meet-up, taking photos and being photographed.

“They look cool, right,” Joe says, taking out his own phone and snapping a few shots.

“Sure,” Mitsuki replies.

They hop on the subway and he walks with her down Chazawa-dori, and now she’s not even trying, just gone totally silent the whole time. They’ve reached Shimokitazawa, a bohemian place full of music shops and retro cafes. There’s a cafe that looks like what teens would find trendy, and when Joe tries to steer her in, Mitsuki won’t move.

“No.”

“You’re avoiding everything that reminds you—“

“Shut up.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” His tone is wry, a little bit nostalgic, sad. “I wish you wouldn’t take after me so much.”

She hasn’t told him anything, really, but by now he’s guessed. She’s guessed he's guessed.

He ruffles her hair before she can duck away.

They don’t go in. Instead, Joe drags her somewhere else—an instrument shop that specializes in guitars. The second she steps inside, he can see something in her is already falling apart.

The shop smells of wood and metal, a few amps here and there on the carpeted floors, rows of guitars on the walls, accessories neatly displayed in the windows. Someone is tuning a bass in the back—Mitsuki looks like all of it feels familiar to her even though she hasn’t been here before. Joe rests his hand on the neck of a guitar, tapping his fingers against the strings.

“What’s the one thing that brought the two of you together in the first place?”

Mitsuki tightens around herself. “You’re being really cryptic today.”

Ah, The moody teenager comes out. Gotta love that. Joes knows that’s the tactic Mitsuki uses when she’s already doing everything she can, just to be able to stand upright, though.

“You think you live in different worlds, but you’ve run into each other and connected—over and over—even while you were trying to be someone else. So stop running and do something that’s actually you. That’s the only way you’ll get through this.”

Mitsuki exhales sharply, before catching herself, like she doesn’t mean to be defiant. She uncrosses her arms, forces her shoulders back.

She starts looking around the shop, asking questions. The guy from the back comes up, and says you really have to touch the instruments to know. Mitsuki, hesitant, reaches out her hand—

Joe pays for the guitar, not on the business credit card, but his personal one, and he has to do the instalment option. But it’s worth it, when he feels Mitsuki hug him, mumbling something unintelligible, and Joe doesn’t press.

Lets her have her moment.

Mitsuki’s such a good kid, Joe knows. But she’s so reserved. So worried about hurting other people’s feelings all the damn time.

Joe wishes Mitsuki would give some of that grace to herself. Maybe she’s too kind for this world, but that kind of blind kindness can hurt people, too.

Especially if you don’t take some of that kindness and give it to yourself.

/

It’s night outside, and she should be exhausted, after Joe dragged her around all over town like that, and then also made them go to a yakiniku place with his friends.

He’d precisely made it such a social event because then she couldn’t just pick at her plate the whole time. She couldn’t, when Joe’s friends were there.

She’s been taught to respect her elders. Even if the elders were a pack of weirdos, outcasts. She actually loves that about them. Wonders if she’ll grow up to be one of them.

When she’s an adult, will she finally love herself?

She’s back in her room at who knows what hour. She’s not tired though. Mitsuki picks up the guitar. A beautiful Yamaha Pacifica. Still can’t believe it’s hers. She runs her fingers up and down, up and down, revering the entity.

She moves her fingers into position. Presses down. Tries a few chords. She knew she wasn’t going to nail this on the first try, but she’s not used to her fingers feeling so big and clumsy.

The thing is, a lot of things came easy for her. The things that she cared about. And the things she didn’t care about, those didn’t matter. She’s not someone that dwells on trying to be perfect.

Mitsuki bites her lip. Except, when she does fuck up the things she cares about, then she was totally gone. Lost at sea.

The notes continue coming out uneven, awkward. She plays the YouTube that instruct her how to move her hands again, it’s on its 15th rewatch.

She doesn’t know how to be in this—it’s totally different than just listening. But she keeps playing.

Still, there’s something intuitive about strumming the chords, the whole process, even if they don’t sound good. It’s as if they know her even if she doesn’t.

A melody starts forming. Mitsuki’s not trying to write anything, not really. She’s still learning.

Total beginner. Just learning how to make the guitar talk at all, really.

Talking… she kinda needs help in that department.

From me to her… what does she even want to say?

/

You were humming under your breath. You thought no one was listening. A familiar melody. I recognized it, but I didn’t tell you then. You were in your own world, and I was in mine. Until you came into a shop, bell chiming above you. Then our separate rhythms, suddenly syncing.

/

The heat, oppressive on a summer night. Yelling, turn on the fan! Joe yelling back, It’s broken! Getting a text. I don’t know what I want to say. What I’m allowed to say. Everything is wrong, all the time. But at least I knew one thing was right, that we were both breathing the same thick air right now.

/

You’re laughing so hard you almost choke on your drink. You’re looking at me a lot. Who are you seeing right now? Sometimes I think it doesn’t matter which part of me you end up looking at, you just want to know all of them. And there’s a part of me too, a part that wants to show you. That’s maybe the scariest part of all…

/

I want to hear those sounds again. Again and again, and maybe even forever.

/

These ideas comes unbidden, unasked for, but suddenly, she can see it—a world where she isn’t hiding. Where she walks into school wearing what she actually likes. Where she’s on a stage, playing her songs, not covers, not just repeating other people’s words. Where she’s at prom—with the girl she likes, who likes her back, who waited all night for her to show up just so she could dance with her. The vision is so vivid it hurts.

Then the doubt seeps in. That’s not real. That’s never going to happen.

She puts down the guitar, shaken.

But then again, she didn’t think any of this would ever happen either. These past few months.

She’d never imagined, well, that anyone would confess to her. In all her forms. Especially someone like Aya, who would then want to kiss her. In all her forms.

And even if Aya hates her now, all that did already happen, and now maybe she’ll have gotten a bunch of songs out of it in the future.

Except, she thinks, I don’t want that. I don’t want songs where I look back at the past all sad when I could have done something to make it up to someone.

A little girl once did nothing, and that little girl stayed so sad, for a long, long time.

I don’t want to be that sad for another 10 years, moping around until another person has to rip me out of my shell. It’s honestly embarrassing.

And if anything, the world isn’t so finite. Like maybe a lot goes wrong for things to go right. So much rightness out there, even beyond where her thoughts can take her.

Maybe, she could even make it happen. Who knows?

She picks up the guitar again. She presses into the strings, the chords welcoming her home.

/

The very first day she missed school, they assumed she was sick. The second day, she hears Joe calling on the phone, muttering about how he doesn’t know how long it will be, but he needs his kid to not fail in the mean time.

Narita comes by the end of the third day, drops three days worth of homework into her mailbox, and Joe makes her grind it all out before he lets her touch the guitar. Between the two of them, they’d put together something, but it was awful, just awful. And also awful, the fact that Joe, a 40 something man, can’t handle year 2 high school biology.

The fourth day, Narita picks up all the stuff, drops off another bundle, and thank god it’s the weekend, and Mitsuki can’t believe a shut-in still has to abide by the schedules of the outside world.

Then Monday afternoon, Narita knocks on the door, but he doesn’t try anything funny. “Yo, Koga. You don’t need to come out. Just wanted to see if you’re still alive.”

“Narita. Hey. Here and present.” She calls back, inside. 

Tuesday, there’s snacks in a plastic bag with the homework. Also some committee paperwork. A note that said, “Need it by Friday. Payment in the bag.” Mitsuki groans, holding the carton of pocky and can of peaches and thinking, I don’t even like this stuff.

Wednesday, more homework. Wow. Are the teachers as insane as she is?

/

It’s Thursday and Narita’s putting the homework in the mailbox, its hinges creaking, when the door swings open and Mitsuki’s looking at him, face slightly wild, going, “Thanks for the homework but Joe and I can’t do any of it. I’m doomed. So. Please help me win?”

She’s being so dramatic yet something still feels so closed off, so far away, her figure halfway in between the door, shadows over her face. And Narita thinks he can see why Oosawa puts up with this crap, and thank god Mitsuki’s not his type at all because she’s really adept at getting into people’s heads.

So now he’s been roped into helping, more than he would like, and also tasked with keeping Mitsuki’s attention while she loses focus every 30 minutes. Joe coming by with coffees and glaring like, you better not try anything, and him looking back like Are you kidding, this other chick would probably bite my head off if I did, I don’t need this from you. In fact, I should probably demand payment.

Just a couple of guys having a whole psychic conversation over the head of a girl they both cared about but struggled to help, and Joe claps Narita on the back, resigned to being fine with it.

“Yo Koga, eyes back on the sheet.” He says as Joe is dumping extra sugar in his coffee. Joe then leaves them to it.

Mitsuki’s been glancing longingly at the guitar in the corner, and Narita sighs, says, Look, we’re just aiming for Cs in math here. But I’d need an A on the committee work, of which he has piles and piles of. He’s actually pretty strict, despite his easy cadence and good humour. Mitsuki straightens up her slouched posture, stops tapping her pencil to a phantom beat. Starts writing.

Stops again to look at him. Seems to be telling him through her eyes, Thanks, you’re a good friend.

/

Mitsuki thinks about having Narita listen to what she’s working on, just to get his feedback, but she doesn’t… she wants someone else to be there, the first time she plays for an audience.

Maybe she’s a damn romantic. God, that’s so embarrassing.

She can’t deny it though, so why not just lean into it instead?

/

It’s a clear October morning, and she hears a knock on her door. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, guitar in her lap, playing through the same song again.

It sounds pretty good.

/

In front of the door to his niece's bedroom, Joe hesitates for a moment. Mitsuki has been holed up in there whenever she wasn’t doing homework, that sometimes he’d just leave her dinner by the door. It’s been a few weeks. He doesn't usually bother her when she's playing music, but today…

“Come in.”

When he opens her door, Mitsuki is already glancing up at him, guitar in hand.

“Hey.”

Joe waits in the entrance of it, because there’s a note of acknowledgement in her tone that makes him pause.

“Thank you. I’ll pay you back when I’m famous.”

Joe thinks it’s been a while since her smile has looked that real. Leans against the doorframe.

“You better.”

/

Joe is standing somewhere in the space between her room and the hallway. She hasn’t been purposefully trying to shut him out these past weeks, but she’d fallen into a focus so intense, it was as if she was in a trance. Today, though, everything seems less foggy, like she can finally feel the air on her skin again.

The guitar, it’s become her voice. He left her alone with it, to refine that voice. (Most of the time anyways, save the homework hell moments). Guess he knows her.

She’s gotta pay him back. One day. Maybe when she's famous.

Mitsuki plucks a note, listening to how it lingers in the air. Voice lighter when she says to Joe, “I also need your help. I’ve got something I want to do.”

Because for the first time in weeks, Mitsuki knows exactly what that is.

Chapter Text

When Chizuru gets home from the movies, she sees her mom chopping cabbage in the kitchen, a huge plethora of ingredients on the kitchen counter, including a package of premium beef. All signs pointed to Sukiyaki. This meant her older sister, Mie, must be coming home tonight.

Mie went to college in Osaka, and stayed there all summer for some part-time job. The job probably already ended, but classes for the college didn’t start until October, or whatever, Mie was probably going to tell her all about it, and their dad was probably going straight to the station after work to pick her up; she probably had at least two luggages of stuff, and souvenirs for all of them, despite probably only staying for a couple of days, and Chizuru would probably be tasked with cleaning the bathtub and getting the bathwater ready for her, Mie, who needed to be pampered with extreme comfort for enduring, what, like 2 hours on the bullet train?

And what’s worse was that even though Mie was clearly the star of the show, a prim and proper and oh-so-traditional Japanese beauty, she always, always, turned her overbearing attention towards Chizuru, and would unleash a stream of nagging so powerful, it was a wonder she even had air left in her lungs to breath afterwards.

Like Mie really thought she was Chizuru’s second mom, grandma, teacher, coach, spiritual protector from the ancestral god or something. She nearly fainted when, in the beginning of high school, Chizuru had dyed her hair and eyebrows blonde. How are you going to start your high school career like that, Chizuru? She wailed. You’re going to attract the worst kind of boys looking like that, Chizuru!

Like please, Chizuru did not care for love, she was committed to the pursuit of flashiness. Fake nails, make up, bags, shoes, and the list goes on, all those were more interesting to her than human beings of the opposite gender, and to be honest even the same gender, unless they were also disciples of flashiness. Unfortunately for her though, despite her clear lack of giving a shit, people always went to her with their problems, and she’d be forced to give them advice, despite only half listening, and they’d look at her in awe like she was some kind of relationship guru, because common sense was in dire short supply at her brainless school.

Chizuru quickly changes from her outside outfit into a comfy raglan sleeve shirtdress, and plops onto her bed. Better get her bedrot time in now, before the house explodes into activity in the next 30 minutes or so. She opens instagram, and scrolls through her feed, brands, influencers, vintage alba rosa, the latest lookbook from Celine, and a few cringey posts from people posting stupid shit accompanied with long captions all fly by one after another.

She stops though, when she stumbles upon Aya’s post. A very telling post, that showed why Aya had declined to attend the movies with her and Mao today. It was shot from above, at some cafe, and Koga-san, that seatmate of hers that she was obsessed with, peeking out behind her. Aya had even overlayed it with some song, like A SONG CHIZURU ACTUALLY RECOGNIZES.

It was a post so mortifying, that it made Chizuru click straight into Aya’s profile to check if she had missed anything else. Yeah, no signs of that boyfriend of hers though, whoever that may be.

Maybe what’s even worse than people asking her for advice, was people NOT asking her for advice. Maybe, it was painfully hard to keep her mouth shut when she had to sit beside two oblivious idiots all day, maybe them always missing the way they both looked at each other made her want to self destruct with frustration. Wanted to grab them by the lapels and yell get your shit together please! For my sanity, and maybe that Narita guy’s too. Maybe, she actually cared way too much, and loved her friends fiercely to hell and back and could only express it in this grossly underhanded way.

Groaning, Chizuru had to see she was probably more like Mie than she’d ever care to admit, and saves the instagram post. You know, for inspiration, just in case, if one day, she meets somebody too— somebody that causes her to act just as stupid.

But until then, she’s perfectly happy to suffer by the sidelines, watching it unfold.

Chapter Text

Working the lights alone sucks and is tiring. Finally, the last performer gets off.

October 21st, the day of the school festival, a Saturday. They were wrapping up the production of the afterparty.

All that work. So much work. It felt a little dizzying, for it all to be over. 

I'm glad I came, but...

Aya leans over from above just to stretch out her arms, body trailing over the railings slightly.

Everything’s fading out now.

Suddenly, someone gets on stage, face obscured and hair tucked inside a black hoodie. The announcer mentions something about a last minute entry. The crowd murmurs with anticipation.

She would do something like this.

/

Thursday, October 19th, 5:45pm

“I should quit the committee.”

Narita just looks at her.

Aya’s just joking. Sarcasm, her new way of moping around because she’s grumpy-tired. Plus they’re doing the very last of it anyways. Everything’s finally, finally about to get all wrapped up, what good would quitting do now anyways?

Narita still dignifies her with a response, because he likes humouring his friends. His voice always manages to be lighthearted no matter how heavy her heart’s been all these weeks. Sometimes you can appreciate someone like that, a person who doesn’t get so affected by your moods. Then you can be a bitch about things and they know that’s not your best self, and they don’t even care.

“We’re already down one member, you quitting would make things pretty rough for me."

“The other member isn’t very responsible, is she?”

Narita laughs, then. It’s probably one of the only times Aya’s addressed Mitsuki’s absence directly. Does this mean they can finally talk about it now?

“Well, don’t be too mad. She’s putting in a lot of work-from-home hours.” He takes out a stapled sheet, and shows it to her.

Aya can’t help but recognize the handwriting. It’s uneven, but she still thinks it’s beautiful.

“That makes me madder.”

“Why, because I’ve been talking to her and you haven’t?” Narita rolls up the paper, bonks her on the head with it, and she just lets him.

He smiles, “Whose fault is that?”

/

Aya’s still in charge of the lights though, so she shines it down, shines it down on the person that’s unfortunately still her favourite person most of the time, even after everything. When she can clearly see it’s a guitar that’s strapped onto Mitsuki’s shoulders, that’s when the surprise takes her.

Koga-san… you can play guitar?

/

Thursday, October 19th, 6:41pm

Finally the long day wraps up, and Aya’s making her way home. It’s already dark out. Narita had offered to walk her, but she declined.

So Mitsuki’s still contributing to the committee. Koga Mitsuki, still trying in her own way.

Maybe she had been unfair to Mitsuki. It was clear from day one that “Oniisan” had been hesitant about the whole dating thing, but out of some desperate desire to not upset her, had went along with it.

Maybe she had set Mitsuki up for failure as Oniisan, made her think there was some ideal she had to reach as Aya’s first love. Maybe Aya had put Mitsuki too high on a pedestal, and that height had strained the foundation of their budding relationship.

If I had looked… if I had really—

Mitsuki might be quiet, but it’s not like she’s actually good at hiding stuff. I mean, how did Narita even know? Was I really looking?

Maybe I knew but didn’t really want to believe it.

No, maybe…

I was waiting for her to tell me herself, but I just couldn’t accept the fact that she was never going to.

/

Mitsuki starts playing, and the sound hits Aya like a wave.

It’s so unfair. Your music.

/

Thursday, October 19th, 7:41pm

I don’t actually blame Mitsuki anymore, Aya thinks, spooning cold pasta into her bowl and reaching for the microwave. Her mom had taken her brothers to a friend’s house for a sleepover playdate, but left some dinner in the fridge.

I was just really, really hurt. Am. Still am.

/

Radiohead. Just from the beginning chords, Aya recognizes the song.

There’s no way people here would know them, so you’re really only playing it for me.

So, so unfair.

But I get it. You just want to express yourself to me in the truest way you know how.

/

Thursday, October 19th, 9:55pm

Maybe she could have taken more initiative to make things better for herself, but hindsight is 20/20. The confession, the dating, the texts, it all took so much out of her already, now she needed the other person to prove something.

Aya yawns, takes the hair elastic out and snuggles under the comforter. She’s been sleeping earlier these days.

But what would it even take? What words, action, olive branch, would match the energy she put out there, blindly, for months?

/

Transport, motorways, and tramlines
Starting and then stopping
Taking off and landing

/

Friday, October 20th, 2:55pm

She thinks she might have let herself be totally pulled in, when she knew something was strange about it. As if it were the lure of the ocean, even when you knew about all the undercurrents. She wanted it so much that…

Whatever it took.

Aya’s looking at the clock. School’s almost out now, and she didn’t have to stay late anymore. Oh but, she thinks, groaning a little. She has to come back tomorrow.

I’d put up with anything.

Going in with that mindset wasn’t actually what it took to work things out in a relationship. It just drowned you.

/

The emptiest of feelings
Disappointed people
Clinging on to bottles
And when it comes
It's so, so disappointing

/

Friday, October 20th, 8:18pm

She’s not blaming her past self though. Only experience can teach you these things, sadly. And after all it’s said and done… she’s still here. She’s lived.

After an early dinner and bath, Aya dons her PJs, clips her hair up. She looks through her collection, chooses a CD, Howl Howl Gaff Gaff. She hasn’t listened to this one in ages. She drops it into her sound system, carefully. It’s a Swedish band called Shout Out Louds. They’re a combination of indie pop and indie rock.

The first track, titled, “The Comeback”, fills the room.

Aya simply has…more awareness, coming terms with her own passivity in the motions of all that happened.

And that’s not where she wants to be anymore, you know?

/

Let down and hanging around
Crushed like a bug in the ground
Let down and hanging around

/

Saturday October 21st, 11:30 am

Narita says, firmly in a text, that she needs to be at the school at 5pm.

I’m already doing so much, so don’t you be late.

Despite herself, Aya picks a special outfit for the occasion. A double layered skirt, with a see-through overlay, a flower crown in her hair. Make up done a little differently.

She’s suppose to be working the second shift of the lights, all the way into the late evening. All their work up to this point, culminated into this day. All the late afternoons, half-Saturdays, coordinating texts, and endless forms. It should mean something.

She thinks about that day, back in the library. Mitsuki asking her, “…Do you ever feel like you don’t really know someone?”

It does mean something.

/

Shell smashed, juices flowing
Wings twitch, legs are going
Don't get sentimental
It always ends up drivel

/

Saturday October 21st, 3:56 pm

She walks to school in the afternoon, the sun is already fairly low in the sky. Leaves are falling, the air is chilly.

What about summer?

Summer’s becoming a memory.

/

One day I am gonna grow wings
A chemical reaction
Hysterical and useless
Hysterical and

/

Saturday October 21st, 4:20 pm

Aya stops. Her feet has been taking her on a detour, mind of their own. But of course, she knew where it was going.

The slightly rundown, but well-loved CD shop stands before her. The windows are black, and the front of the door has a little paper taped onto it. Maybe it says closed, or maybe it says be back in 5 minutes. Aya stands far away that she can’t make out the exact words, but she wasn’t going to go in closer anyways, still can’t right now. But the shop, she just wanted to see it, take it in. All around it little familiar markers you don’t pay attention to until it’s too late. The flowers in pots scattered outside, the posters on the window, the little stoop.

The place where we met.

/

Let down and hanging around
Crushed like a bug in the ground
Let down and hanging around

/

Saturday October 21st, 4:25 pm

She had stood at this very spot months ago, asking, Dear all the people out there also confessing to the person they like, please lend me your strength—

And now she thinks, should I tell them all collectively to not do it?

/

Let down again
Let down again
Let down again

/

Saturday October 21st, 4:27 pm

There’s a part of Aya that thinks—if she didn’t confess to Oniisan, would she still have fallen in love with Mitsuki? Would she lose them all, all those moments where I was close with you, and all those moments where I wanted more, if they never happened at all because of a different choice, then she doesn’t think she would ever want it to be any different. She would miss out on too much.

So to those people, she can only tell them one thing, before she turns away, leaving the shop behind.

Good luck.

They’re gonna need it.

/

You know, you know where you are with
You know where you are with
Floor collapsing
Floating, bouncing back
And one day I am gonna grow wings
A chemical reaction (you know where you are)
Hysterical and useless (you know where you are)
Hysterical and (you know where you are)

/

Saturday October 21st, 5:00 pm

Usually the school grounds are empty during this time of day, save for some stragglers from the clubs. But today everywhere on the campus is all decked out, decorations and flowers and hand-drawn banners everywhere. So many smiling faces, some she recognizes, many she didn’t.

Families and kids from other schools. Some kids manning festival stands. It looks different in the low light, even though the sight of it was also so heart-achingly familiar.

When this all started, you were behind one of these types of stands too.

When this all started, and I didn’t know how hard I would fall. How painful that would be. But then I…

I would become someone who knows you.

And I would become someone that knows me, too.

/

Let down and hanging around
Crushed like a bug in the ground
Let down and hanging around

/

Working the lights alone sucks and is tiring. Finally, the last performer gets off.

October 21st, the day of the school festival, a Saturday. They were wrapping up the production of the afterparty.

All that work. So much work. It felt a little dizzying, for it all to be over. 

I'm glad I came, but...

Aya leans over from above just to stretch out her arms, body trailing over the railings slightly.

Everything’s fading out now.

Suddenly, someone gets on stage, face obscured and hair tucked inside a black hoodie. The announcer mentions something about a last minute entry. The crowd murmurs with anticipation.

She would do something like this.

Aya watches it unfold. Seeing Mitsuki in person after all that time apart, Aya can’t help but remember all the times she was so, so close to Mitsuki.

So maybe it was all real. The songs, the feelings, the love, and the girl, especially the girl.

The crowd is erupting and Mitsuki is disappearing from view, and that sight alone makes panic rise within Aya.

You’ve disappeared so many times on me already. I can’t even count how many times. 

But when the commotion dies down, the metal staircase rattles and Aya sees that Mitsuki is slowly making her way up.

Towards her.

“I…I’m Koga Mitsuki, I work part-time at the CD store…”

Her voice is awkward, a little shaky. Aya finds it unbearably endearing.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. There’s something else too. When you asked me what part of me was real… I didn’t know either. When we dated and I was Oniisan, I felt like I lost most of myself.” Mitsuki takes a deep breath. “But Oosawa-san…I swear to you… the part that l-loves you was always real."

Does Mitsuki ever realize that she’s ridiculous, not only doing all these huge gestures, but layering on feelings that are way too big all out in the open like that? But when Mitsuki says that last line, she hangs her head, not making eye contact, trying to be small again.

She was always such a contradiction. And Aya’s heart swells, so much that it feels like it’s breaking again, when she can tell, through the curtain of black bangs, that Mitsuki is crying.

"I love you too.”

That part is actually easy. It just flows out of her like breathing, as if saying them is like her lungs asking for air. But how can Aya say what she’s about to next, when Mitsuki is looking like that.

You actually always make it so hard, even when I know you try not to.

“…But Koga-san,” her voice surprises her with its firmness.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

It isn’t just about the lies—it’s about how helpless she felt waiting for Mitsuki the whole time. Whatever feelings Mitsuki had towards her might have always been genuine, but it didn’t mean she was ready to act on them. Aya knew that now. Mitsuki wasn’t even ready to begin anything in the first place, much less know how to come to terms with the pain that unfolds after a betrayal. She didn’t understand that ugliness could be a precursor to healing, and her way to deal with things was to always make herself the monster. It took all of Mitsuki just to be okay with her own self.

Aya could see that Mitsuki tried to be ready. She tried to fix things. But no matter how Mitsuki has been reaching out— through Chizuru, through the committee, through absence, through music, however beautiful it was— it hasn’t felt like enough.

No, that’s not true.

It’s just simply Aya doesn’t want Mitsuki to be the one to fix it anymore.

It touches her heart deeply, the things Mitsuki does. But that doesn’t erase the pain. Mitsuki hurt her. Really hurt her, and now Aya’s not ready to have a relationship with Mitsuki, either. She’s got to heal too.

She deserves that, before she throws all of herself into making another person happy.

The younger version of herself wants to run towards Mitsuki, wants to make things feel good again. It would be so easy to reach out right now, and hug Mitsuki, and tell her everything would be okay. And in thinking that, she realizes why Mitsuki did everything she did.

But Aya isn’t Mitsuki. So she stands her ground, with the words already said, hanging between them, but it’s completely hers, this choice.

And that’s okay, she tells herself as she walks home alone.

Somehow, she thinks Mitsuki understands.

One day I am gonna grow wings

-Let Down, Radiohead, 1997

Chapter Text

Change clinking into the wooden box, Aya claps her hands together, the painted wooden deity before her. Cold air on her cheeks, snow on her scarf and hat. Aya prays for her health, for her brothers not to get the flu, to lose some weight on the thighs. And… that her and Koga-san would make up again.

Start again as friends?

She flashes back to a time when similar words, clumsily put forth by someone else, was accompanied with hot flares of anger, pain that felt like joints aching, badly arranged music that sounded more like headaches. But now, toying with the idea, her body stays relaxed and present.

And that's when she realizes it. It doesn't hurt anymore. The pain that has been a recent constant, it looks a lot more like a scar. The reminder of it is still there, but it’s healed white. Guess she’s pretty much forgiven Mitsuki. She couldn’t clearly track the timeline of how she got here. 3 months ago, it felt like the drought of betrayal desolated all her exuberance, but somehow, now, all the perennials were sleeping peacefully, waiting to bloom again. It wasn’t some monumental event. It was like seasons changing, where it feels the same everyday, but then all of a sudden, it’s spring, even though the snow outside tells her it’s winter.

Now she wants to know how Mitsuki’s doing. It’s a couple of days into the new year, and the tail-end of their break. Christmas has come and gone without them exchanging even holiday wishes, and Aya just misses her. Misses seeing her at school, even though right now they’re pretending to be strangers, but hey, it’s at least in a cordial, mutual-agreement way.   

Aya can hear steps crunching in the snow. Someone’s coming up. She slides over to let the stranger move into the space beside her.

It’s getting colder. She catches her breath, shuffling herself deeper into her scarf. The stranger isn’t saying anything in greeting. Should she? What’s the politeness protocol here, when there’s only two of them in this small space. She glances up at the stranger, and her eyes widen.

“Koga-san?”

Mitsuki’s hair is dotted with snow, nose lightly flushed from the cold. Mitsuki looks fairly nonchalant at their meeting, but Aya knows Mitsuki. She’s seen that tactic before.

“Long time no see…” Mitsuki is saying to her, voice very unsure. Like she’s still not certain if she’s allowed to say anything at all.

“Longer time no talk.” Aya smiles very small, a gesture of permission. They haven’t really talked since the festival.

She asks Mitsuki how her winter break has been going. Are you still playing guitar, even though Aya already knows the answer. Mitsuki holds up her fingers, which now has callouses on it, hard bumps over the softness of her hands. There’s bandaids on her ring and pinky fingers.

“Of course.” She doesn’t even downplay it. Guess Aya’s not the only one with scars.

Seeing Mitsuki’s hands though, Aya just wants to grab them, which she does on impulse. Don’t show me that. She rubs the edge of the bandaid on Mitsuki’s fingers without even meaning to.

Then, realizing how embarrassing this whole thing she was doing was, because she surely would never be able to stop being so foolish if Mitsuki’s beside her like this, Aya lets go. Says what’s been going through her mind recently, which is simply that she misses her.

“Even just greeting you good morning. I should have at least done that much.” They’ve both turned around to face the shrine again, sporting matching red cheeks. The atmosphere feels transcendent, all wispy and quiet, like All are forgiven in front of the holy spirit. She can tell Mitsuki can’t help but make quick little glances towards her.

“I missed holding your hand, too.” Aya says, then just keeps going. Doesn’t give Mitsuki a chance to respond to any of these soppy lines. Keeps going and going. Just has so much to say, like initiating The Sacrament of Penance of the church. All the wrongs she’s got to admit, too.

“So look, I wasn’t talking to you because I hated you. It was hard to trust you after what happened, but.. “

Aya takes a deep breath. “It was harder to trust myself. It’s not like I’m innocent or didn’t have any ego. I mean, I did all that to you while I was supposed to be dating Oniisan. I didn’t think I was someone who would do that.”

But to that, Mitsuki is smiling wide, lopsided, voice going stupid from happy, “Well, you just liked me that much back then, huh.” A reaction which makes Aya’s brain fizzle and reality flicker in and out of existence from the obtuseness of it. 

Was Mitsuki actually very simple. Or maybe Aya brought that out of her. She could use more of it herself, in any case.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

There’s a little stand near the shrine selling hot sake and oden. The vendor sizes them up, pours them amazake only, and mutters stuff about youth. They walk away to a little sitting area now.

It’s totally deserted.

“This would be easier if we were actually drunk.”

Mitsuki says, “Aya-san, you’re pretty wild huh?”

“You’re calling me that again now?”

“Calling you what? Oh.” Mitsuki’s whole face turns red. Aya thinks it’s the most adorable thing in the world.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Oosawa-san.”

Taking a page from Mitsuki’s book and schooling her face into feigned nonchalance, Aya says, “It’s fine, we’ve already kissed twice. We can be on a first name basis.”

“What— are you actually teasing me at this point?!” It’s not a shout, but Mitsuki’s voice is pitched higher than usual.

She sounds… like such a girl right now. It makes Aya really, really want to push for more.

“Oh do you not like it? Want me to stop?”

“It’s just.. in the last 3 months, we haven’t talked at all, and now you’re saying you miss holding my hand and all this other stuff, it’s too much. Um!” Mitsuki slumps down, as if her knees simply cannot hold.

Aya squats down beside her and inches just a bit closer. “Well think of it as payback for all the stuff you put my heart through.”

Mitsuki says, in a tiny voice, arms in front of her face, “Please don’t say we already kissed…”

Is this really who Oniisan is, who Mitsuki is, some idiot who is able to go up in front of the whole entire school and learn how to play guitar and sing to her in an attempt to make up with her, but can’t listen to Aya remind her they’ve kissed in the complete privacy of an out-of-the way shrine?

“Why, are you imagining it? Look, Koga-san—“

She decides to change her stance. On the whole thing, maybe.

“Mitsuki-san. Look at me. It’s just us right now. Tell me what you want from me. Just tell me.”

Mitsuki looks up.

Those grey eyes of hers.

Oniisan’s eyes.

It’s funny to think that there was a time when she thought she didn’t know.

Mitsuki’s voice kind of wobbles. “What about, what about when you said you loved me back. Do you still—“

Aya can't believe what she's hearing. That Mitsuki still even has to ask.

So much for being friends again. Who was she kidding?

“You. You’re impossible.”

She reaches forward to close the space between them.

(END)

Chapter Text

The holidays pass, it’s the assembly to announce the start of the third semester, and they’re basically friends again. For once, Aya wasn’t thinking that far ahead beyond that, all she was doing was greeting Mitsuki in the mornings now, and of course, they’re sharing about music in between classes, and sometimes they hold hands, and sometimes Mitsuki walks Aya to the front of the school gate after the bell.

Two weeks in, she was showing Chizuru different hair models on instagram, like should I get my bangs cut (never a good idea), straighten my hair or dye it a slightly different colour?

“You’re doing that thing, where it’s the new school term and you want to experiment, but then you’re going to regret it.” Chizuru is always the voice of sensible reason. “But maybe you should  ask your girlfriend for her opinion too.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what.” Chizuru challenges back. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Aya is momentarily speechless, but Chizuru is still talking. “Or I don’t know, just do it without asking her, since it’s 2024 and you’re not a kept woman.”

Aya laughs, not letting Chizuru mess with her head. Except those words don’t go away.

Girl, friend? Girlfriend.

Are they going to have the whole “What are we” conversation, because the idea is way too mortifying for Aya’s liking, especially at this point of their mega-complicated-yet-super-simple stupid relationship. How to start, how to reconcile with what’s going through her head, with what’s going through Mitsuki’s? Never have Mitsuki been more lucky to not have annoying-ass friends, Narita excluded. She’s going to kill Chizuru. 

“What are we?” Oh, sometimes you can’t beat simple. Love really makes one wonder.

It’s one of those “I’ll-walk-you-to-the-gate” days and Mitsuki stops to gawk at her, the first bits of snow melting in her hair. Maybe Mitsuki’s embarrassed now because she thought about ..their thing? status?… before as well. Her cheeks are pink, or is that just because of the cold?

“Are we girlfriends? Chizuru thought so. Is she being the worst?” Aya hopes her laugh doesn’t sound as deranged as she feels.

Mitsuki responds by saying, Can I walk you all the way home? And now they’re holding hands on the the walk and Aya’s thinking, We already did this as friends, except halfway Mitsuki lets go and tugs off one of her mittens and looks at Aya, eyes imploring, and Aya removes hers too so their bare skin can touch, and they slip one of the mittens over both of their hands, stretching the knitted wool. And why does that action make hearts explode inside of her like a disgusting shoujo manga panel in books that she doesn’t have any interest in reading, and also, I guess a friend doesn’t lean over to kiss you goodbye.

This makes it, what, the fourth time they’ve kissed? Not that Aya’s counting or anything. Well, actually, she’s mad that she can count it at all, in fact she wants it to be so many times that she can’t, that she’s lost track except she also believes that even if it’s a thousand times she’d still be counting. And her mind will just be like, showing her the greatest hits now, the compilation album of the kisses. Sometimes her mind is the worst, but sometimes her mind is also the best.

At her door Mitsuki’s saying, Hey so like about the girlfriend thing… if.. if you’ll have me Oosawa-san, and she suddenly straightens up, I mean, Oosawa-san, I do want to be yours. The winter sun is behind her and Aya thinks she has to push her heart from jumping out of her throat. She tells Mitsuki, You are, of course you are— while her brain is going what does that mean?!

She hears commotion from inside the house. Amu and Aki are shouting. Amu the louder one.

“Did you bring a boyfriend home? Like who’s outside?” and Aya has to snap back, It’s a girl!!! While shoving Mitsuki forward.

She whispers, “I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” and Mitsuki just smiles and waves bye and disappears down the street. Aya has to catch her breath for a moment at what just happened before she goes in.

Amu looks at her in the doorway.

“Oneechan, that’s a convo we’re gonna have to have. You’ll have to tell us about the birds and the bees. Or is it the birds and birds or bees and bees?” The biggest smirk on his tiny adorable face, using words that Aya hates that he knows. She’s really going to have to recheck if those parental controls are programmed correctly on YouTube. Aki says, huh? In the background the TV is on and colourful things are zipping around on it.

“I will do no such thing. What I’m going to do is destroy you both in Mario Kart instead.”

/

Aya has decided that being a girlfriend is not that different than being a friend you kissed occasionally, that she has the very perfect balance of like, the platonic-romantic-platonic ideal. She maybe invented that term, but it’ll trend online, soon.

She walks home with Mitsuki maybe twice a week. One of those times, they stop to get drinks from the vending machine. Mitsuki forgoing her usual canned coffee for CC lemon, because that’s what Aya always gets and she wants to try.

Mitsuki is drinking it and saying it’s not bad, but it’s crazy how Aya’s drinking all this cold sugary stuff in the dead of winter. It goes from gently prodding Aya to take care of herself before something lights up in her eyes.

“I just realized I could have tried it a whole different way,” Mitsuki lifts her mouth from the can, takes a look around them and now they’re kissing against the vending machine. It’s a very respectful kiss, they’re not really touching each other elsewhere at all. But still, the kiss was kinda long and Mitsuki tastes like lemon, her favourite flavour, and it tastes better than ever.

The next day, Mitsuki’s drinking CC lemon during school, except now Aya knows what it tastes like on her mouth and has to literally sit on her hands to stop herself from touching Mitsuki in the classroom. She catches Mitsuki looking at her a lot too that day, all throughout the day, and it makes some crazy thoughts run through her. Thoughts like, maybe she should just throw caution to the wind, push Mitsuki against the lockers and demand: What do you want, Mitsuki-san? What do you want with me? Because Aya will do everything she wants, right then and there, the entire student population be damned.

Mitsuki texts all the time now. Sending songs and doing that thing where you emoji-react to messages. But instead of the quick replies making Aya feel settled, it makes her feel impossibly impatient. It doesn’t make sense. She used to wait days and days and now even minutes feel too long. Nothing has tapered down, every mundane text a log to stroke the fire. She can’t be undone by some text asking so what did you end up having for dinner? That surely has to be one of the worst way to go.

“You’re thinking, she’s surprisingly pretty good at sports, aren’t you?” They’re in gym class, they’re taking turns on the court and Aya’s in the group with Narita beside her. He does this really annoying thing where he’s pretending to narrate her thoughts.

In that second, Mitsuki’s jersey rides up as she’s throwing the ball. Aya’s looking at that expanse of skin and now Narita goes: I don’t wanna narrate your thoughts anymore, I’m too maiden for this XXX-rated stuff in your twisted mind. He’s even got his fingers covering his face, making a V like a Vulcan salute so just his eyes are peeking out, which makes Aya go icy and say shut the hell up, you moron, and because she’s not looking at the court the ball almost hits her.

Now Mitsuki’s running up, asking if she’s okay, her face all protective looking and close, and Aya can’t, like Narita’s there, he’s right there and he’s going to make fun of her for days so she gets up, excuses herself and bolts through the gym door. Mitsuki texts her all concerned and shit and she has to avoid Mitsuki for a couple of hours, but she texts back to let her know she’s in the Nurse’s office. She just has a little bit of a nosebleed but the ball didn’t hit her in the face, like at all, and it’s the most embarrassing thing ever.

In the last class now and Mitsuki leans over to write in her notes. Are you ok? Yeah, she is, but why now?

“Because we’re in class so you can’t run away,” Mitsuki mouths, then pokes her tongue out a little because she’s a devil of temptation and Aya still doesn’t know what it means, what the hell—

Then Mitsuki stops wearing glasses to school and changed her hair a little, and there was a little bit of an uproar over it and some first year girls kept coming by to look. Aya’s usually sweet and friendly to underclassmen, but she can’t help the annoyance. She’s even glared at one of the girls, maybe even pretty severely, judging by the way they’re shrinking back.

“You’re not like, a tourist attraction. They didn’t even know who you were until a few days ago.”

They linger in the Chemistry room and Mitsuki suddenly hugs her without warning, and says Thank you for loving me as I am. It’s dangerous to be in a room with so much glass when Mitsuki’s touching her, no matter however gentle. It’s dangerous so Aya doesn’t do anything with her hands, just lets herself be hugged, and wow, it’s their sixth kiss, the glass beakers and windows flicking spots of light towards each other.

They have lunch right after and Aya can’t help thinking, I could have marked her so they’d all know. Kisses along the neck. Put on a lipstick next time. Mitsuki’s eating with them today, and she’s turning a little, tucking her hair behind her, and Aya’s thinking I could bite her, staring, fascinated at how a throat moves until Narita clears his, loudly. Even Mao looks embarrassed.

Later when they’ve stopped by the convenience store, Mao leaves for some piano lessons because she’s into that now, and Chizuru turns to Aya over the magazine rack.

“You’re too obvious.”

Aya puts the magazine she was paging through back on the shelf and glares. She’s kinda sick of people making fun of her. She’s not doing anything. She has been doing everything to not do anything.

“Like behave, we were in a place of education.”

Aya rolls her eyes, snipes back, “Since when did you care about education?”

“Jesus, I care about being in public. Get it out of your system, go on a date or like I’ll even lend you money for a hotel, holy moly—“ and that freaking does it and Aya’s shouting at Chizuru, in the store, that they’re not having this conversation and Chizuru just says, pointedly, Then what is wrong with you?

So okay, Aya has just been this walking ball of… like a very wound up rubber band and she’s going to snap, seriously just snap with all this desire leaking out of all her pores and—

But no. They haven’t… talked about that stuff. And no, she doesn’t think about it, not at all.

Except sometimes very late at night, when she’s tired but can’t fall asleep and she closes her eyes and—

She’s just, imagining and there’s music rushing to her ears even though nothing’s playing. And she falls asleep to that sound in her head and wipes away any excess on her hand and wakes up and is not embarrassed at all to see her… her girlfriend the next day at school or anything.

Her girlfriend that still calls her by her last name and yeah, it’s all very normal.

So okay, maybe she needs some personal alone time with Mitsuki. It’s been months of build up, and it’s not like she didn’t want her even during the time she was mad at her, and she holds back all the time for, for what exactly? Because the last time she touched Mitsuki in that way everything fell apart?

“We should do something. Just the two of us. If you want to.” She says to Mitsuki as they’re walking home on Tuesday.

“I want to.” Mitsuki is thoughtful. She wants to take me on a date, Aya realizes. Maybe to the aquarium, or to see a movie, both of which is nice, and of course she’ll love it and they’ll do that for sure, but…

Right now, she desperately wants it to be somewhere more private. The movie theatre’s dark enough for an appropriately timed kiss, more like a peck really, it’s not so dark that, you know.

Even though it’s winter she constantly feels hot all over, that sometimes she checks to see if she’s running a fever. Then the body thermometer will let her know she’s perfectly healthy, and it’s not over-the-counter medication that’ll grant her relief. She just wants, needs a break, really, from all this.

“I’ve been…” she can’t say it.

“You’ve been…? Huh.” Mitsuki is looking at her, face filling with some kind of realization, as if she can hear the loudness of Aya’s thoughts. Then, tries again. “Um, nobody’s home, this, this weekend. So I was thinking… you could stay over. I mean. If you want to.”

/

She finds this little bottle of a stupidly expensive perfume and it’s even called Animalique, but they write some French behind it like Eau de Parfum so it doesn’t sound as obscene. That whole dumb brand only had perfumes called Eyes Closed or Suede or Altar, because you needed to pay 32,000 yen to signal to someone what you wanted them to do to you, and actually, that’s kinda genius, made the whole thing very posh.

Now Aya’s thankful that Chizuru put all those samples in her make up pouch. She puts some of it on her wrist, the back of her neck, in her hair, notes of lemon and bergamot over and between the surfaces of her skin. She also finds some body lotion that has a bit of shimmer in it, and she chose some matching underwear that was very pretty but not overly ornate or anything, very demure, mindful, except she thinks the amount of thought she put into this whole thing is kinda screaming the opposite.

The rest of the week after the invitation she had felt anxious and jittery, but most of all stupid. Also nobody kissed nobody the whole time so the kiss counter is still at 6, which made no sense, because in her head it’s at least in the double digits. All those kiss-less days where she looked up some stuff online maybe, and then she had to delete her whole search history, and burn her phone too if it didn’t cost, like a thousand dollars, but now the day has finally come and she’s looking at her own nails which she had redone and oh god

What was she thinking, she can’t do this— but she’s at the CD shop, the first time she’s come by since the festival, and it’s for this, because of course Mitsuki lived right above the shop, of course. She’s not surprised by anything anymore.

Mitsuki opens the door in a black hoodie and soft grey sweatpants, hair all casual and why does that always have to make her go so weak, it’s like she’s sweating backwards, she can taste the salt in her mouth. Aya feels stupid again, a little overdressed, but it’s fine because Mitsuki’s looking at her, eyes so very grey and calling her cute.

Mitsuki shows her around and asks if it’s too late in the day to have coffee and Aya says no, so Mitsuki makes her a cup and as she’s taking small sips, blowing on it, Mitsuki uses her hand to tilt her head up and kisses her, and then freaking giggles and says she’s caffeinated now, too.

It’s so adorable it makes Aya’s heart bloom, but her stupid brain goes, now they’ve kissed 7 times? Again, not counting. But it’s also been so many months and every kiss is too proper, a friendly greeting, all those outside kisses, and she wants an inside one.

Maybe Mitsuki’s not into that, though. Like those websites (of which she hasn’t been successful at deleting from her brain) where it had said some people don’t like it too much, or some people don’t want it at all, which is fine. It’s like an amazing artist with low output, dropping a single every five years, but at least that single is the greatest thing ever and will tide you over until the next inspiration hits. And even if that artist choses to never release anything again, it didn’t make what they already put out there any less than the most beautiful, earth-shattering thing.

Truthfully Aya thinks she could be okay with that. Mitsuki still wants to be hers and that’s the most special thing in the world to her. But she just.. she just at least needs to know.

Mitsuki asks her if she wants to see a movie. In the living room, there’s a couch. She closes the blinds.

It’s not totally dark. She puts it on. English. She sits pretty close to Aya, but leaves just a little space. Subtitles. She’s shifting around and Aya can feel every small movement. All the actors are working in a record store, called Empire records, or something.

Playing really good songs. She can tell which ones Mitsuki likes the best just by the way she’s breathing. There’s a story, somewhat, but mostly it’s just tension on the screen, getting thick, and people are looking at each other and talking about, that. What?

Suddenly there’s a girl on screen, and she’s undressing.

Aya thinks, I cannot stand this for another minute. She turns to Mitsuki, face flaming, mouths, What do you think of this movie? Mitsuki turns to her.

“It’s good so far? Especially when they played that song—”

Sometimes it’s so unbelievable, that Aya thinks, is Mitsuki-san just fucking with me, even though, of course she isn’t. Or it’s semantics— let’s say, not with, but— and by the grace of god, she has to give up the pretence right this minute. There’s no time in her world for more of this when she could have more of that.

“I’m not talking about the music.” Can’t believe she’s saying that. Can’t believe you’re making me.

“Just be honest with me. Do you also…? Or is it really just me after all?”

“What do you…? Oosawa-san? I really don’t know what you mean.”

She really, really can’t stand it anymore.

“Look, Mitsuki-san. I’ve been waiting all this time…" It almost hurts now, but she has to. She doesn’t think she can just do the sleepover without… addressing this. “…Waiting for it to be okay just to touch you again, alright? Is that what you want me to say?”

“You’ve been—-“ Mitsuki looks at her, takes the remote and shuts off the TV just like that, Liv Taylor and whoever those other actresses are winking out of existence like the end of a clipped soundbite.

Then Mitsuki’s taking off her sweatshirt in one big sweeping motion, and throwing it behind the couch even though it’s her precious Nirvana one, the hurried movement leaving her hair rumpled and wild. Before she can even realize what that might mean, Mitsuki has already reached over to grab Aya’s hand, putting the flat part of it on her own stomach, under her t-shirt. Her stomach is soft, there’s a bit of muscle under it, but it’s mostly very soft, so Aya starts rubbing it without thinking and there’s a noise, and maybe Mitsuki’s moaning, and it’s all going to Aya’s head, and some other places too.

This is really happening.

“Can I?” Aya begins, but Mitsuki is already shimmying the waistband of her sweatpants down by herself, and as much as she loves jeans Aya has never been more glad that they don’t exist in this moment, she doesn’t think she can handle buttons or zippers right now. When she puts her hand in Mitsuki’s underwear, it’s already so warm and wet and open that it startles her; she doesn’t even worry about if she’s doing it all wrong.

All the touching, the rubbing, and the feeling, mostly the feeling.

They’re all over each other, on the couch, and Aya’s carefully watching Mitsuki’s face, but her hands are all motion, tentatively putting in a finger, up to the second joint, and curls it.

“You have to tell me, if this is what you want,” Aya hears herself saying. She didn’t realize it could feel this good, to be touching somebody else. “You have to stop me if you don’t like it, promise me?”

Mitsuki says, Don’t stop.

Then she says Oosawa-san, I don’t know what I’d do if you did— I, I like it, then she goes, Your fingers, I couldn’t, I like them so much, and she’s babbling. She’s making words but it doesn’t make sense anymore.

She’s gasping, eyes squeezed shut. Then those gasps turn into full on mews, and Mitsuki’s— Mitsuki’s fucking loud, Aya didn’t expect that. The sounds Mitsuki’s making— it’s like, it’s like, making music, or something, and she remembers Mitsuki only sings when she wants to— and oh, that thought makes the heat run through the entire length of Aya’s body, molten and burning.

“I love… it… your hands, Oosawa-san.“ Mitsuki is saying again. “And your mouth.”

My mouth? Aya thinks blankly, maybe she means a kiss, but Mitsuki’s hiking up her shirt by herself and she’s saying Will you, I’m sorry, but will you and actually, it sounds like she’s begging and Aya puts her mouth on the skin there, sucking, gracelessly, and at some point Mitsuki stops making sounds, her body scrunching up, suspended in the air for a second, and Aya wants to know how to capture it— the impermanence of the moment, the imperfectness of all meaning, the impossibleness of the feeling—-before it relaxes and it’s like falling through the air with the sky in front of you and then Mitsuki’s moving, she’s grabbing Aya’s wrists, jerking them out of her, flipping them around, saying, saying—

“Let me, Oosawa-san, let me, please?"

And all of a sudden Aya’s flat on her back, and Mitsuki’s on her knees, pushing up her skirt, putting her mouth between her thighs. Doing some maddening flicking motion with her tongue - and where, what, how —the hell did she learn how to do that, and then Aya’s brain is not working at all, and she thinks she’s going to die, from not breathing, or maybe from breathing far too much, and she’s asking for more, more, and finally no more, because she did and now she can’t anymore—

She sits up, pushes Mitsuki off her, but then her hand stops in the back of Mitsuki’s hair— that hand tightens, pulling, the smallest of movements, because Mitsuki’s looking at her, face and neck all flushed—

Her lips, shiny with the taste of her, mouth falling open a little, making an oh shape, irises blown wide, and just looking into that Aya thinks I think I can, again, so she puts her other hand between herself and does, again—

Afterwards, they had taken a bath, not together, but one after another, because for some reason they’re both shy now, what they’ve done coming back to them. Being overly considerate now, carefully maneuvering around each other and hurriedly putting on sleeping clothes in separate rooms.

“I can sleep downstairs, I have an extra futon,” Mitsuki says, when Aya enters the bedroom. She had found a blow dryer in the bathroom, but Mitsuki’s hair still looks damp, from the towel.

“Are you kidding?” Aya shakes her head. “You can’t do that to me. C’mon Mitsuki-san. You just can’t.”

So now only in the dark, huddled in the twin bed, with her back facing Mitsuki’s, does she feel any contact from Mitsuki’s body again because Mitsuki presses into her, just a tiny bit. Mitsuki asks her, fingers tugging on the hem of Aya’s pajama top, mumbling into the direction of her shoulders, voice sleepy with effort:

“Was that okay?”

Aya takes her hand and pushes it backwards through the space between them, until it finds Mitsuki’s. Cards her fingers through. she doesn’t— it’s not a need, is it, to have to turn around, when she answers that?

“It was perfect.” she says, her breath hitching. Says again, more steady now. “You’re perfect.”

Maybe there’s another question between them, but Aya doesn’t need to ask. In the room, it’s very still. Mitsuki’s breathing evens out. Aya thinks Mitsuki’s falling asleep, or maybe she is, but then Mitsuki reaches up, brushes a lock of her hair away, to whisper in her ear.

Tells her the answer anyway. Finally says her name.

Chapter Text

TRACKLIST 

LISTEN TO IT HERE

Chapter 1: Asking out the guy I’m interested in

Right Next Door To Hell - Live in New York- Guns N’ Roses
Out of Time - Blur
Estranged - Guns N’ Roses

Chapter 2: Being friends with the classmate next to me, I

As Long as You’re Next to Me - Tigercub
The Good That Won’t Come Out - Rilo Kiley

Chapter 3: Being friends with the classmate next to me, II

liar - Sundial
Tomboy - HYUKOH

Chapter 4: The summer we dated

Heart-Shaped Box - Nirvana
Beside - SURL
Beaches - Beabadobee
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
Eyes, Nose, Lips - Taeyang

Chapter 5: Between two people, Oosawa Aya

Dreams - 2004 Remaster - Fleetwood Mac
ONE LIFE - the pillows
Tentai Kansouku - Bump of Chicken

Chapter 6: Full of self-loathing, Koga Mitsuki

How to Disappear Completely - Radiohead
BLUE - Billie Eilish

Chapter 7: Black Hole Sun

Goodbye My Baby - Jace June
Dreams - Cranberries
Happier than ever -edit- Billie Eilish
Everlong - Foo Fighters
Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden
Waves - Dean Lewis

Chapter 8: A part that’s real

Welcome to the Black Parade - My Chemical Romance
The open boat - Primary, Ande, Colde
WHIRLPOOL - Kinokoteikoku

-Interlude-
CARNIVAL - the pillows

Chapter 9: Let Down

End of Beginning - Djo
Thanatos - Kinokoteikoku
Godspeed - Frank Ocean
Let Down - Radiohead
Very Loud - Shout Out Louds

Chapter 10: I wanted it to be you in the end

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski
I miss your warm hands - I don’t like mirrors
Hollywood - The Black Skirts

Epilogue: The imperfection of all meaning

Submarine Symphonika - The Submarines
Til I Hear It From You - From “Empire Records” - Gin Blossoms
Tiny Moves - Bleachers
Bodys - Car Seat Headrest
Who Do You Love - The Black Skirts