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Kyouka regularly attends the karaoke bar.
Takeyama’s Beats was the only karaoke bar in the little town of Musutafu. Musutafu really was a weird town: the best college in the country was here, a grove with a beekeeping farm was here, and yet there wasn’t a single club unless you drove past the grove.
Annoying.
Takeyama’s Beats was owned by an eccentric woman, to put it lightly. Takeyama Yuu—the owner—seemed to always have a glass of champagne in her hand and a headband with horns over her head. “It’s my bar persona,” she confided in Kyouka one night. “All excited, pumped, woohoo!” she says lightly, sarcastically. In retrospect, it sounded kind of sad. Nostalgic. “I’m only twenty-six. I’m living life as much as I can while I’m still young. We all grow up sooner or later, and I’d rather grow up later,” she admits.
Kyouka’s only nineteen, but she still relates.
“Takeyama,” Kyouka asks, leaning forward. In the pink lighting of the karaoke bar, she looks younger. Takeyama already looks pretty damn young, for a twenty-six year old, and the lighting enhances that. “What do you do when you like someone?”
Her mind floats off in the direction of Yaoyorozu Momo, her roommate, coworker, bandmate. Kyouka and Momo had known each other since their last year of high school, when Kyouka had transferred and Momo had been assigned to ‘make sure the new girl didn’t feel lost.’ At first, Kyouka had been convinced the chick was some goody-two-shoes—
—Until she noticed they both took the band elective and damn can that girl play the drums.
Yuuei only accepted the best of the best. Momo got a scholarship, that wasn’t a surprise; but Kyouka got into the arts program and that was more than she ever dreamed of.
“When you like someone,” Takeyama repeats. “When you like someone, your feelings feel… squishy. Or, your heart’s trying to keep up with your brain and it feels messy. And what to do…” Takeyama bites her lip. “Depends on what your end goal is to do with these feelings,” she says, leaning back and taking a sip of her champagne.
Kyouka frowns. “Say I want to eviscerate said emotions. What do I do?”
That gets a laugh out of Takeyama. “Sweetie, I don’t think you should try to get rid of them. That usually ends in both parties getting hurt,” she says. “But, if you’re not going to act on them… drown yourself in your interests,” she advices. “You’re in a band—learn a new instrument. Do something to keep your mind off of her.”
“She’s my roommate, my coworker, and she’s my bandmate. I can’t really do that without jeopardizing the band or my rent,” Kyouka mutters. “Keeping my mind off of her means I can’t be around her otherwise all I can do is think about her.”
“Then that complicates things, doesn’t it?” Takeyama says, not unkindly. She leans back, and downs her glass of champagne, serving herself another one. “You either tell her and get it off of your chest, hide it with everything you hold dear, or you suffer and risk losing your rent, work, and band.”
After Takeyama says that, it’s not too hard to guess what Kyouka’s going to do with her feelings.
Simple: she’s not.
First, Kyouka asks her boss to switch up her hours so she doesn’t share any shifts with Momo.
Secondly, Kyouka takes Takeyama’s advice and learns how to play the flute. It’s different, than playing the bass, because (a); the bass is a string instrument and the flute is woodwind and, (b); she’s not learning the flute because she’s interested in learning how to play it. She’s learning it to—as Takeyama said— drown yourself in your interests . Learning a new instrument was a part of her final anyways.
“Jirou-chan,” a knock interrupts Kyouka from her session, stopping her from beginning the first notes to “How Far I’ll Go” from Disney’s Moana.
“W-What’s up, Yaomomo?” Kyouka curses herself for stuttering.
She opens the door, and sees Momo in her nightgown, long black hair trailing her shoulders in delicate waves. She looks beautiful, and Kyouka averts her eyes from her nightgown to meet Momo’s.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go to Takeyama’s,” Momo says, gaze locking with Kyouka’s. “We haven’t gone in a while, and I—”
“I, I can’t,” Kyouka tries, pursing her lips into what she thinks is an apologetic smile. She’s always been a pretty good liar. Hopefully she still is, even in regards to Momo. “I need to learn how to play this damn flute for my final,” she explains. Sure, December may not be for a good two months, but hey—Momo has always liked it when people think ahead and prepare themselves. Maybe she’ll understand.
The look on Momo’s face says otherwise, but she still nods. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll ask Kaminari-kun, then.”
With that, she shuts the door, the click echoing in Kyouka’s ears.
Oh.
Kyouka exhales softly, regret filling her up as her flute chimes a G note.
Freshmen year at Yuuei University was one of the most surreal things that ever happened to Kyouka. For one thing, she had Professor Yamada —the most famous Japanese radio host ever since Kyouka herself was fifteen—as her music theory professor. The most famous Japanese radio host, the first openly gay Japanese radio host…
He meant a lot to her.
But that same year, she met Kaminari Denki. Denki, back then, was a bit of a wildcard. They were constantly having a gender crisis, calling Kyouka at three in the morning crying because they had no sense of identity and didn’t know what to do. Sure, they could be a bit dense at times (most of the times…) but what Denki lacked in academic prowess they made up for in street smarts. And smarts—no matter what form they took, were still important and Kyouka could slightly sympathize.
It was hard to ignore them. Kyouka and Denki sat next to each other, their freshman year, in Professor Yamada’s music theory class. Denki’s hair was always the same: electric blond with a black lightning bolt streak running through it.
She remembers their first conversation: “Do you think Professor Yamada has a pet parrot?” they had said, eyeing Kyouka with curiosity, and she hoped with every centimeter of her heart that said joker wasn’t interested in her. It’d kind of suck to have to reject someone so early into the semester, and Kyouka really didn’t want to get into petty college drama.
Regardless, that had sent Kyouka into a rage of laughter. “What the hell, man! Why’d you ask me that?!” Kyouka managed in-between her laughs. Denki smiled proudly.
“You looked like you needed to laugh. Name’s Kaminari Denki. And, uh, if you’re chill with it—use they/them pronouns for me,” they introduced. Kyouka nodded.
“Jirou Kyouka. I just use she/her, and I’m a lesbian,” she said back, sticking her arm out for Denki to shake. That was the beginning of one of the best friendships Kyouka ever had the pleasure of being a part of. One of them, because Momo exists, and Kyouka kind of really likes her. Momo, the cool, suave drummer that both accidentally and unintentionally stole Kyouka’s heart and had no idea about it. It kind of made Kyouka feel sad—Momo was naturally an accidental heartbreaker. That takes charisma, skill, and probably a bunch of other things Kyouka doesn’t have.
Meeting Denki was so important, primarily because they’re fucking awesome, and secondarily because they are the guitarist for their band. Electric Zap!— Denki themselves named it—was Kyouka’s pride and joy. They played at Takeyama’s place pretty regularly, and recently obtained a venue and were opening for a more well-known band. In short, she was pretty fucking stoked. Denki’s importance in her life was also a plus, because it meant they were her automatic choice for when she’s in what her friends call a “mood.”
Jirou Kyouka’s “moods” are deadly. She gets angrier easily, had a bad tendency to lash out at strangers, and cried at the slightest aggression in return. It was horrible at every turn, and it usually ended with a three hour call and a dying phone on Kyouka’s side.
“Hey, hey,” Denki’s voice cracks over the phone. Kyouka’s reception at her apartment was horrible, and the internet was slow. Either way, hearing their voice helps to placate her anyway. “I’m sure Yaomomo likes you back, really! I mean, she agreed to living with you, so at least she enjoys your presence! And she like, loves to tutor you,” they say. A sob rips out Kyouka’s throat.
“That’s not the point!” she cries. Thank GOD Momo is hanging out with Hatsume right now, she thinks before returning to her crisis. “The point, is that even if we start dating, there’s the risk of my life falling apart! We work together, live together, AND we’re in the same band! Denki, if Momo and I start dating and we break up… Denki, we’re so close to getting big. We’re opening a concert! A real, concert that people paid money to come see. We’re so close! And I don’t want to risk it. I really like Momo. Like, I really, really like her. But compared to her, I’m not much. She’s rich, and smart, and pretty and I can sing and play the bass. We’re not going to last, when our differences are so—”
She hears Denki make a noise of panic. “Not true! You’re way smarter than me! And you’re a catch, Kyouka. Really. I’m not saying that to be nice— I have a girlfriend of my own—but Kyouka, you’re a good person. Being a catch is more than just being pretty.”
“Denki,” she says desperately. “I can’t take that chance. Not on my own. If she likes me, and you can somehow prove it, I’m down. But I can’t ask her. That’s risky”
“You’re a risk taker, though!” Denki protests.
They’re past the three hour mark, at this point.
“This is—this is our future, th-though,” Kyouka says through hiccups. “Not just mine. We both want to get big. This is your band as much at is mine, or Momo’s. My mushy gushy feelings can’t get in the way of that, otherwise I’ll feel horrible about it if things go wrong now. Like I said—we’re so close. We can’t do something that could jeopardize that.”
Denki is silent for a few seconds. “Kyouka,” the phone is eerily silent. “It’s not healthy for you to bottle this up. Talk to her. Momo’s not mean, manipulative, or anything like that. You have to tell her.”
“I’d literally rather die,” Kyouka manages without sounding like she’s crying. It’s almost over, then. The mood is almost done with her, almost done wringing out her emotions like a wet rag. She felt so spent, having flooded out her feelings that she’s been harboring for so long to someone who wasn’t even the object of said feelings.
Denki makes a frustrated noise. “Okay,” they say calmly. “Fine. Bottle up your feelings and risk destroying a friendship that in turn can do the exact thing you’re so damn afraid of!”
That makes Kyouka freeze— fuck. She’s been avoiding Momo like crazy, trying to suppress her feelings so they don’t cause her problems. But she’s avoiding Momo. That’s inherently almost guaranteed to start causing misunderstandings like crazy. If she’s been avoiding Momo, then Momo probably thinks she doesn’t want to he around her anymore and—
“Fuck,” Kyouka hisses. “Fuck me, fuck fuck fuck fuck! I’m such an idiot—this is why Momo and I can’t…. agh!” she throws her phone across the room, watching as the screen flickers until it goes pitch black. It died. “This is a mess, I just fucked up so bad. I’ve been leaving her hanging for a good month now,” Kyouka babbles on to no one but the pooling darkness in her bedroom.
Kyouka’s bubbling in both fear and anxiety. The fans were pouring into the concert hall, all in merch, some holding signs with the main band performing on it, some with glow sticks and a few with flowers. Kyouka’s also pretty sure she saw someone carrying a bra around. Huh. Denki went on stage to toy around with the instruments a little bit longer, leaving Kyouka backstage to deal with her nerves. The two talked out Kyouka’s feelings in person a few days after the phone call, so everything was fine between them—
Not so much between Momo and Kyouka. Neither of the two had been trying to talk to the other… No, that’s not true. Kyouka had still been avoiding Momo, trying to grasp and control her feelings. And now, the pre-concert rush was hitting and Kyouka managed to straighten out her back and take a few deep breaths.
“Jirou-chan?”
Kyouka stumbles. She knew she would have to face Momo eventually, but she really hoped eventually wasn’t today. Even though she knew she would have to face her. Because they’re bandmates.
“S-Sup!” Kyouka’s voice sounds grating to her own ears. Momo’s eyes flash with hurt.
“I’m sorry, Jirou,” Momo says. “I don’t know what I did… But whatever it was, it upset you. And I’m sorry. I like you a lot, you know, and I Kaminari-kun loves what we have… this band... I’d hate to be the reason it falls apart… Electric Zap! means so much to you, and it’s the key to your careers, and I—” Momo cuts herself off, backing going ramrod straight. It’s something Kyouka herself is used to, whenever Momo is calling her parents. Even though they can’t see her. Even though she’s not in front of them, her back is as straight as a pole. It’s unnatural. Momo moves to wipe at misty eyes, and that’s when Kyouka breaks down.
This wasn’t part of the plan. This was not anticipated at all. She didn’t anticipate the possibility of Momo liking her back. Her doubt in that region is the very reason she started pushing the taller girl away, drowning herself in her interests and doing her best to subtly cut Momo off without actually doing so.
“No, Yaomomo, it’s not something you did,” Kyouka bunches up her hair in her hands. This is not what she expected. She lets out a sigh of resignation. “Look,” she says. “Ever since I met you, back in high school, I—I fell for you. Hard. I didn’t notice until recently. I decided I didn’t want to risk it; you’re a part of my life. You’re my best friend, my roommate, my coworker, and you’re in the same band as me! If-If we started dating, and we broke up… I didn’t want to think about the consequences. I was scared, scared of rejection, and obviously what I did was wrong. I’m so sorry I made you feel guilty—I didn’t mean for this—” Hot pools of tears form in Kyouka’s eyes, and she’s about to angrily wipe them off when…
“Jirou?” Momo says softly. She steps forward, and Kyouka has to tilt her neck to maintain eye contact what the FUCK and she feels Momo’s soft, warm hands on her shoulders. “Jirou. You—I think you said you fell for me. Mind repeating that for me?”
Kyouka parts her lips—being this close to Momo is making her dizzy. “I—uh, I fell for you. Hard. In high school. I like you, like, a lot. Um…”
Another step closer. Momo’s bending down, and Kyouka’s on her tippy-toes, and their foreheads are touching, and this is so much better than anything Kyouka’s ever dreamed of. “Can I kiss you?” Momo asks hoarsely, voice cracking on the word kiss. Kyouka’s eyes widen, and all she can do is nod.
It’s like an electric zap!
Momo’s lips are pillowy and soft but hard and rough at the same time. Kyouka feels a bit awkward—it’s not her first kiss, but not by a longshot—but it’s her first kiss with someone she genuinely cares a lot about. They pull away from each other for a second, before gray eyes meet black and lips are met again. She presses forward onto Momo, wrapping her arms around her neck and she lets out a laugh when Momo smiles into the kiss. A wet thing curls at her lip, before Momo pulls away, smiling like she just won the lottery.
It’s a lot to take in. Kyouka knew girls were pretty—of course she did, she’s a lesbian after all—but Momo is on a whole other level of ethereal beauty and breathtakingly gorgeous looks. A whole other level of overwhelming kindness, expected and well-earned intelligence, and the utmost of grace. It’s the very image that Momo projects—the image of beauty and smarts and grace—that made Kyouka feel unworthy to even think about dating her. But putting Momo on that pedestal… Well…
Now the unattainable girl is kissing Kyouka with everything she holds dear, and Kyouka’s brain is kind of short-circuiting. In absolutely the best way.
“Jirou Kyouka,” Momo murmurs, ending each word with a tease of a kiss on Kyouka’s lips. “I–” kiss “want–” kiss “you–” kiss “to–” kiss “be my girlfriend. I want you to be my girlfriend and I want to take risks with you and I want to kiss the life out of you.” She punctuates that one with pressing her forehead back onto Kyouka’s. Kyouka’s dazed, but she welcomes the gesture anyway.
“I think,” Kyouka smiles back up at Momo, before getting on her tippy toes and pressing a shy kiss to Momo’s cheek. “I think I’d like that. A lot.”
Momo grins. “That makes me very happy.”
“Love birds!” Denki shouts. “We’re on in five minutes! Hurry up!”
Kyouka leans back, and catches a look at the crowd. Distinct soft red hair and spiky blond hair catches her eye, and she grins at the sight of Bakugou and Kirishima sitting near the front with signs that read “WE <3 YOU KAMINARI, JIROU, YAOYOROZU” and “ELECTRIC ZAP! RULES”—it’s obviously Kirishima’s idea, but the sight makes her smile and makes the pre-show jitters and post-kiss butterflies fly away.
“Come on, Kyouka-chan,” Momo says, blinding smile on her face. “Let’s do our best, yeah?”
Kyouka slots her hand in Momo’s. “Of course.”
The two get in their position as Denki screeches out an introduction and hits the first note on the guitar. When Kyouka puts her lips to the microphone and plays the bass with her entire heart, she catches Momo’s eye and falls in love all over again.
“Woo!” Denki shouts, pumping their fist as Kyouka steps off of the stage. Takeyama’s Beats feels the same, even though this time, she’s holding a girl’s hand. Takeyama sends her a serene smile, and sips from her champagne glass. Still so snobby, Kyouka thinks, wiggling her fingers at Takeyama as she goes to pull Momo into a dance. Her voice feels tired, but her body feels light. The claps are nearly deafening.
It was the same place, but it felt different.
And it was all Kyouka ever wanted.