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We’ll always be in band together, right?
Always.
It feels like a punch to the gut when she hears that Nozomi had quit band. Mocking laughter rattles throughout her brain as she moves away from the third-years, everything feeling muffled and slow.
Nozomi had quit band.
And the worst part was, she hadn’t even told her.
It feels like she’s drowning as she sprints out of the band room and races to the nearest bathroom stall to cry in.
Nozomi had quit band and she hadn’t even told her.
Why hadn’t she told her?
She’ll tell her eventually, right?
Right?
She probably just made an impulsive decision. That was always Nozomi’s style. Yes, it’s possible that Nozomi had just recklessly announced her decision to quit without even thinking about it. There’s no way she would have made such a big decision without telling her.
She takes in a few shaky breaths. Nozomi will tell her tomorrow, she thinks, and dries her eyes, and exits the bathroom stall.
Waiting for Nozomi to tell her why she suddenly quit band is harder than anticipated. For one thing, she’s too confused, too worried, to properly focus.
And Nozomi, apparently, is out sick. She hears this from a few people.
But not from Nozomi.
She reaches out to her, texts her, asks her about her illness. All messages go unanswered.
Something tightens in Mizore’s gut.
When Nozomi returns to school, Mizore turns the other way. She will wait for Nozomi to explain herself.
She will wait for this knot of hurt in her stomach to lessen before she waits for Nozomi to explain herself, though.
A month passes by.
The knot of hurt only grows.
Mizore knows she needs to be patient, but waiting is hard.
She avoids Nozomi whenever she can, though.
Another month.
It feels like her heart has been shattered.
She doesn’t answer Nozomi’s apologetic texts.
She thinks that she should give up on Nozomi ever showing up. Still, she goes to the band room early to practice, waiting for Nozomi to arrive anyways.
It never happens. She plays her oboe dispassionately, waiting for the door to swing open and Nozomi to sit next to her.
Every day, she packs up and heads to class with the taste of disappointment on her tongue and a sense of sadness in her gut.
Yuuko Yoshikawa will sometimes join her wait. She never asks for anything, just talks to her. She tells her about her day and asks Mizore about hers.
Mizore waits for her to shut up.
She does, however, start to respond.
Yuuko, it seems, is willing to pity her.
But she is still waiting for Nozomi to explain to her why. Yuuko is only a temporary replacement, someone who will be there to offer pity before she grows bored and disappears.
By second year, Mizore has dubbed herself “The Waiter”. She faithfully plays the oboe every day, waiting for Nozomi to return and explain herself.
She doubts that Nozomi will ever do so, but she still drags herself to school every morning, practicing the oboe until her lips bleed.
Yuuko waits for her, letting her share her feelings at her own pace. Yuuko smiles and lets Mizore take as long as she needs.
Mizore wonders why Yuuko is so intent on waiting for her. Shouldn’t she have dropped the pity act already?
She wonders why she is so intent on waiting for Nozomi.
“I hate that flute,” she hisses. “I want it to stop.”
That sound is the one thing she never wants to wait for.
She had waited so long for this.
So why does it feel like a second punch to the gut when Nozomi says, “Mizore?” with a smile that warms her whole body?
She waited so long for this.
She gets up, something rising and threatening to choke her, and runs.
Not now. She had waited so long.
She sprints down the halls. It doesn’t matter, she thinks. She had waited so long.
So why is she running?
Is she waiting for Nozomi to find her, or for Nozomi to give up?
Or is she waiting for something else entirely?
In the end, she is found by Oumae-chan and Yuuko. Yuuko, who promptly screams and cries about how she had been willing to support her.
Yuuko had been waiting for her to open up. Something in Mizore swells, and she whispers, “Thank you.”
Then she prepares herself to face her demons.
Nozomi is the one who is waiting for her.
“You waited so long,” Nozomi whispers. “Thank you.”
“I love you,” Mizore whispers back, and Nozomi presses the softest kisses to her forehead.
“You’re too kind,” Nozomi murmurs. “I love you too.”
Her patience had paid off. After all that waiting, she got what she wanted.
She feels like she can breath again.