Archive of Our Own

“I can’t. I can’t fucking do this, I can’t,” Nanase hisses into her sweating palms.

Reika’s attempt at rubbing comforting circles onto her back isn’t helping at all. Nothing is satiating the crawling feeling in Nanase’s own stomach.

“You don’t even have to see her,” Asuka says cooly, rapping her drumsticks against the green room table. “You go onstage, you go off. We’re even riding in separate vans, I don’t see the problem.”

“Of course you’re fine, you’re happy to fawn over Miona any day,” Nanase retorts, almost snarling. She doesn’t want to go out there at all, not with the idea that Maiyan, that bitch Maiyan, could be watching her stage-side, or even be a few rooms away.

“You made it here, didn’t you?” Reika says, fondly. “It took a lot for you to even get here.” She hands Nanase a bottle of water. “Also, I hate to say it, but you’re kind of…”
“Contractually obligated. I know.” Nanase swallows a gulp of water, but then Reika gives her an eager pat on the back, and the bottle splashes water all over her shirt. “Reika!” she shouts, water dribbling down her chin.

“I’ll get a towel,” Reika says, a little bit flustered, and she dashes out the door.

Kazumi leans around the door.

“Hey, folks, we’re on soon.”

“Good luck, guys,” a voice says behind her, and Nanase almost spills another puddle of water all over herself. Standing behind Kazumi is Maiyan. The one person she had managed to skillfully avoid the whole day is now standing the doorway, observing Nanase in her drenched T-shirt. Maiyan, standing there in her performance outfit for the night—shirt that hangs off her shoulders a little bit, ripped jeans and Doc Martens—gives Nanase a look. It’s the ‘you look awful pitiful right now’ look. The ‘I’m embarrassed to be seen with you’ look. Nanase shouldn’t feel shameful, but she still does, and she looks away, pretending to be interested by Asuka’s air-drumming.

Fuck. Three more weeks of this. She’s royally screwed.

—

Of course Nanase can’t expect her record label to know her personal history. She’s very private about that sort of thing anyway. Yet, nonetheless, when she got the call, she couldn’t help the visceral reaction that coursed through her whole body.

“No!” was the first thing she shouted at Jurina, who just replied with a soft cluck of her tongue. “I can’t!”

“The other execs from their label think it would be very good for both of your sales. You’re an underground favorite, they’re a popular crowd pleaser. It’ll draw in people from both sides.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Nanase had said. “It’s complicated.”
“Touring is the only way for musicians to stay afloat these days, you know it. You don’t have to interact with them at all. I don’t see what the problem is at all.”

“You don’t understand. Maiyan and I—we have history.”

“Well, figure it out. Because if you pass up this opportunity, then I’m gonna have a hard time advocating for you with management.”

Nanase bit her lip, holding back all the words she wanted to say.

—

Hatred. That’s what she feels about Maiyan. The sort of gurgling hatred that bubbles at the bottom of your stomach like boiling water. Even worse—Maiyan has the upper hand. She’s the one that humiliated Nanase. Made her feel like shedding her own skin.

Maiyan probably doesn’t even remember, still sees Nanase as the fumbling, nervous girl she was in college. Still thinks of Nanase as lesser, she’s sure.

Maiyan is better at everything. Effortlessly beautiful without trying, she moves gracefully and elegantly even when walking offstage, forehead shining with sweat. She’s more popular, more successful. Signed to a bigger label than Nanase, can afford a new guitar and a manager.

Jealousy churns within the cauldron of Nanase’s guts, mixing with that burning hatred. She pretends there’s not attraction in there too.

—

Once Nanase gets onstage—everything is okay again. The moment her fingers find their rhythm strumming her guitar, her breathing gets even. Then she can sing—sing her stupid heart and all of its wretched feelings out onto the crowd. She barely even looks at them, just thinking about how good it feels to be onstage again.

The band has toured a couple times. Once before they got signed to any label, then once more a year ago. But Nanase’s not used to being the opening band. It’s kind of nice actually—no pressure to meet the crowd’s standards if they’re not here for you. She can just play, and enjoy herself. The crowd seems to be having fun anyway, judging by the screams Nanase can hear past the noise of her own guitar, and the thrashing mass of bodies by the front.

This, she thinks, is why she’s a musician in the first place. To share what she makes with other people, to feel the physicality of plucking a string on her guitar that resonates into the crowd below the stage. She glances back at her band—Reika in her own headspace on bass, Kazumi strumming the strings of her guitar fast and hard, Asuka smashing her cymbals so hard they might break—and smiles. She’s happy here. This is Nanase’s happy place.

—

Then she gets offstage, and reality hits her again. As Nanase wipes sweat from her forehead, the sound of the crowd’s cheers outside getting muffled, she sees Maiyan, standing at the side of the stage. She’s been watching.

“Nice set,” Maiyan says, and licks her lips. Nanase remembers the little mole just over her mouth, what it felt like to press her own lips against it, and her heart falls cold.

“Thanks,” Nanase says, trying to make her voice sharp like a dagger, as if it could attack Maiyan back. (Not that Maiyan has even directly attacked her, but it feels like she has, with the way that her piercing eyes are looking right into Nanase’s.)

“We should talk. After the show? Get drinks, or something?”

That, that makes Nanase’s emotional walls shatter.

“I don’t see why we should,” she snaps back.

“I was just trying to be nice,” Maiyan replies, and she looks a little hurt. She tosses a little bit of hair over her shoulder. “We’re stuck together for three weeks. Thought I’d at least attempt to be polite to you.”

Reika walks by, and looks concerned, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Well, thanks for your effort,” Nanase says, trying to keep her whole being steady and her heart from shattering. “I would’ve expected you to be as uncaring as you were three years ago.”

Maiyan opens her mouth, but Nanase is already walking away.

—

The second show is in a city with a river. Reika gestures out the window as they drive down the highway.

“See, aren’t you glad we came?” she says. “Look at all the beautiful things we get to see.”

Asuka looks up from her phone and wrinkles her nose.
“What, do you think we haven’t seen a river before?”

Reika sighs.

“I was trying to be positive.”

Nanase gazes at the river. In the early morning fog, it looks sort of haunting, like out of the pages of one of Reika’s favorite mystery novels. The highway is empty, and she looks ahead at their sole companion—a black van driving in front of them. Synchronicity isn’t a popular enough band to have a tour bus, not quite yet, but with the way Maiyan’s face has been gracing the covers of music magazines lately, Nanase is sure it won’t be long. Meanwhile, Secret Graffiti still has to rent their own van. They don’t even have a manager. Reika is sort of the pseudo-one-in-charge, even if Nanase is the lead singer.

“Play some music,” Asuka grumbles. “It’s too quiet in here, and Nanase is doing that thing where she stares in the distance and looks all pensive and shit.”

As Kazumi fumbles to find the aux cord, Nanase watches the city skyline appear from the fog. Three more weeks.  Just three more weeks. She can do this.

—

“Nanase?” Reika says.

Nanase looks up. She’s sitting on the edge of the stage, busy tuning her guitar so that she can avoid interacting with everyone.

“Yeah?” Nanase doesn’t look up, just focuses on the way the string vibrates under her finger.

“There’s only one green room,” Reika pauses, and even if she’s not looking, Nanase knows she probably is pursing her lips, thinking hard about the right thing to say. “We’re going to have to share.”

She should’ve expected this. A lump forms in Nanase’s throat, and she strums on the guitar again, so hard that the plastic pick in-between her pointer finger and thumb snaps. A horrible, grating noise comes from the amp, and Reika winces. 

“Come back. You should eat.” 

“I’m really not hungry.” Nanase hopes she doesn’t sound too bitter.

“Come on, Nana. Kazumi ordered pizza.”

Nanase lifts her guitar over her shoulder, unplugging it and setting it back in its case, not saying anything but giving Reika a silent look of disgruntled acceptance. She twists back her mess of black hair into a ponytail, as they walk down the hallway and back to the green room, the muffled noise of music getting louder and louder as they approach.

Reika opens the door, and Nanase shuffles into the room with cautious steps.

“Hey,” she says, tongue feeling thick in her mouth.

Everyone is here. Kazumi is in the corner, looking through the venue’s record collection with a focused expression. Asuka is eating a slice of pizza, feet resting on the coffee table in-between the two couches the green room has to offer. Reika sits down next to her, grabbing a slice of her own from the box on the table, humming along to the music that’s playing loudly from the record player in the corner.
Then there’s Maiyan and her band.

Maiyan is on the opposite couch to Asuka, drinking a can of beer. When Nanase comes in, she looks up, but doesn’t say anything, just blinks cooly and goes back to her drink.

Sitting next to her is Misa, Synchronicity’s bassist. She seems like a sweet girl, and as much as she wants to, it’s hard for Nanase to find a specific reason to dislike her.

Poking Misa in the shoulder as she excitedly describes something she saw while unloading the instruments from the van is the rhythm guitarist, Sayurin. Sayurin is extremely friendly to Nanase, which Nanase kind of hates, because she’s sure Maiyan must be talking shit about her to Sayurin.

Sitting next to Asuka is Miona, the drummer of Synchronicity. Nanase narrows her eyes. Miona is wide eyed, sort of deer-like, and her and Asuka gravitate towards each other for some reason. Part of it is obviously because of Asuka’s crush on Miona, but after just two days of touring, they already seem to be communicating in some sort of invisible language. Nanase watches as Miona rests her head on Asuka’s shoulder and giggles something into her ear. Gross.

Finally, there’s Yumi, Synchronicity’s manager, taking up the rest of the space on Asuka’s couch. She seems a little focused on whatever she’s doing on her laptop, but she looks up and gives Nanase a nod of acknowledgment.

Begrudgingly, Nanase moves to the table to grab a greasy pizza slice, and then is hit with a dawning realization.

She doesn’t have anywhere to sit. The couch with her bandmates is full, but the other one—there’s one spot, and it’s next to Maiyan. She panics a little, glancing around the room for chairs, but there’s no option. Nanase swallows, and moves across the room, stepping over Sayurin’s legs to take a seat next to Maiyan.

“You guys sold a lot of shirts last night,” Yumi says, closing her laptop. “If we keep sales up, we should be actually turning a profit this tour. Say something about merch onstage, please.” She lowers her voice, leaning in. “This venue is taking a crazy percentage from our ticket sales.”

Nanase takes a bite of her pizza, thinking. If even Synchronicity are fighting to turn a profit, then she knows they’ll probably have it even worse. Three weeks of hell and for what? To lose money? She gulps, and desperately hopes not.

Suddenly, a finger drags across her cheek.

Nanase almost jumps back, startled. It’s Maiyan, sticking her hand out, using her thumb to wipe at Nanase’s face.

“You had some sauce. On your face,” Maiyan says, practically grim.

Nanase feels the heat rising to her ears, desperately willing it away, but she knows there’s probably a blush painting her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she replies, trying to maintain her cool composure.

She thinks, softly, of the days when Maiyan would touch her like that, even hold her hand there, maybe cup her face to gently tug her in for a k—

No.

She can’t be thinking those sort of things. Not right now, or ever, because they’re dead memories stained bitter.

—

The stage gives her back her energy, even if the feeling of Maiyan’s thumb still lingers on her skin. This venue is a little smaller, and less people are here for the opening act, which just makes Nanase want to prove that it was worth it to come early. There’s a girl in the front row, and her hands are firm against the stage as she thrashes her head to the music. Nanase gives her a smile.

Cute girls are nice. So are pretty girls. Nanase likes girls of all kinds. She wonders if this girl, who’s mouthing every lyric, likes girls too.

Yet—it’s been a long time since Nanase last dated, because the last time she committed to anything was Maiyan, which in retrospect, was a bad idea. You don’t commit to Maiyan. Maiyan is an engulfing wildfire, spreading from tree to tree, place to place, leaving behind ashes.

Nanase holds onto the mic for dear life, knuckles white like she’s made of carved marble, and sings.

—

Nanase volunteers to work the merch booth. She doesn’t really want to, but  Yumi says it’ll be better for sales. People are more likely to buy things if it’s from the singer themselves.

It feels like hours, just standing there, as sweaty men come up to her and tell her about how she ‘could almost compete with men with how good her guitar playing is’, or to demand a sweaty handshake that makes Nanase wish she’s brought Wet Wipes with her to the merch booth.

Finally, a girl comes up—it’s the same one as earlier, the one against the stage.

“Nanase!” she says, eager.

“You know my name?” Nanase replies with a light chuckle.

“Duh, of course! I’m like, a huge fan.” She sticks out her hand, and Nanase doesn’t feel as weird about accepting it this time. “I’m Miria. You were so good up there!”

“Ah.” Nanase looks down at the table, fingers splaying over folded t-shirts. “Thank you.”

Miria leans forward, elbows resting on the table. There’s no line behind her, so Nanase supposes having a conversation with a nice girl can’t be too bad.

“You know,” Miria says, “I was so excited when I heard you were opening for Synchronicity. I’ve been following you guys—like, you and Maiyan—since the Influencer days.”

Nanase’s stomach drops.

“H-how do you know about that?” she says, internally cursing the sudden vulnerability in her voice.

“Like I said, I’m a big fan. Are you ever bringing that project back?”

“No,” Nanase says, perhaps a bit too sharply, and she feels sweat crawling down the back of her neck. “Listen, I appreciate your love of my… our… work. Are you going to buy anything?”

As Nanase swipes Miria’s credit card, she dreams about long-gone days in her bedroom, sheets of lyrics lying on the floor, Maiyan lit by afternoon sunlight as she strums the guitar.

—

During long drives, Nanase often gets wrapped up in her thoughts. As she stares out the window of the van, she thinks about Maiyan, because she hasn’t been able to think about much else these past few days. She thinks about the Maiyan she fell in love with: the girl in her philosophy class that had lent her a pen, the girl who had asked for a piece of gum and handed back the wrapper with her number on it, the girl who traced soft circles into the back of Nanase’s neck while kissing her. Maiyan had been beautiful, tender, slow and methodical about the way that she took Nanase’s heart, as if she was picking a complicated lock, gently taking apart Nanase from the inside out until she was head over heels.

There had been warnings, of course. People said things about Maiyan—that she couldn’t commit, that she always had ulterior motives, that she never let herself get too comfortable. Yet Nanase didn’t heed these—it was hard to listen when she was so distracted by the sparkling multitudes in Maiyan’s eyes. She was young, foolish, determined to become something and to have someone.

“If Maiyan jumped off a bridge, would you too?” Reika had asked.

Nanase had answered, steady, self-assured.

“I would trust that she had a good reason to do it. So, yes, I suppose.”

Reika had given her a look that Nanase later realized was one of concern. But past Nanase couldn’t notice that—she was lovesick.

—

The next couple of days go by smoother than expected. There are a couple hiccups—including an incident in which Nanase walked into the green room to find Asuka making out with Miona on the couch—but otherwise, tour life is starting to find a rhythm. Nanase is learning how to avoid Maiyan’s pointed gaze, how to control her anger and how to be patient with her bandmates getting on her nerves.

One day, in-between sound checks, as Nanase is busy scribbling down some new lyrics in her notebook, someone sits next to her.

“Can we talk?”

Nanase tenses up, expecting it to be Maiyan, but when she meets eyes with her companion, she finds Misa, instead.

Nanase snaps her notebook shut.

“Um, sure, I guess.  About what?”

Misa smooths out the folds in her skirt, obviously nervous.

“I just wanted to say…” She pauses, thinking hard about her words. “I know you and Maiyan had troubles in the past. But Maiyan—she’s changed a lot in these past few years, since she met us, the band. She’s a different person than she was in college. She’s grown a lot. I guess—I just wanted to say to give her a chance.”

Nanase is quiet, doesn’t say anything for a while. Misa looks at her, anxiety creasing across her face.

“Thanks, Misa. I’ll… try,” Nanase finally says, giving a weak smile.
A thread of bitterness seems to be weaving its way through her whole body, because all she can think is that she was the one supposed to make Maiyan a better person.

—

That night, Nanase does something unexpected. After their set is over, she wipes the sweat from her collarbone and her forehead like always—and then she heads down the hallway, to the little door that leads out into the venue floor. A security guy nods at her as she weaves her way through sweaty people, who are anxiously waiting for Synchronicity to take the stage. Some acknowledge her, compliment her on her set, but for the most part, they ignore her as she slips her way to the bar to order a drink.

Aimlessly, she stands against the back wall, sipping her drink through 15 minutes of sound check, just listening to passing conversations. When the lights finally lower and the walk-on music starts playing, she feels a familiar pit in her stomach begin to form, as she watches Maiyan stride onstage.

It’s been a long time since she’s seen Maiyan perform. Even back in the day, she didn’t really get the chance to watch from afar, because they usually were onstage together. She knows Maiyan’s music, because even with all that sullen vitriol buried in her, she still wants to know what Maiyan’s doing, what she’s making. But seeing it live—it’s an entirely different feeling. The way that Maiyan’s fingers move, fast paced, across the guitar strings, it has Nanase’s breath in her throat, like she’s nineteen again. Maiyan sings, melodic, yet fierce and piercing, and it stabs at her chest like an arrow to the heart.

The stage lights spin, casting pools of white light across the audience—and for a brief second, one of them passes over Nanase, and she swears she meets Maiyan’s eyes. Maiyan smiles a devilish smirk and Nanase wants to sink into the floor.

—

“Hey! Nanase! Listen!”

Asuka is prodding Nanase in the shoulder with her drumstick. Nanase jerks awake from her slumber on the green room couch with a start.

“What do you want?” she mumbles groggily, rubbing at her eyes. Asuka pokes her one more time.

“I was saying that there’s going to be an afterparty after the show tonight, because Maiyan knows some people in town. And we’re gonna go.”

“No way! I was going to stay in tonight.”

“We stay in every night!”
Nanase makes a “tch” noise, trying to blink the sleepiness from her eyes.

“We’re going, right?” Asuka says, more of a demand than a question.

Nanase wipes a bit of drool from her chin.

“I guess so.”

—

Nanase doesn’t really like parties. At all.

She takes a sip from the plastic cup in her hand, wincing at the burn of alcohol on her tongue. Kazumi plops down on the couch, throwing an arm over Nanase’s shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much. Busy being miserable and all.”

“Sorry. That’s a bummer.” She looks at Nanase, worry in her eyes. “Do you need anything?”

Nanase watches a very drunk Sayurin pull off her top, and sighs.

“Not really.”

“You know,” Kazumi says thoughtfully, “I saw Reika kissing the manager.”

Nanase sputters, practically dropping her drink.

“What?”

“Yeah.” A grin creeps onto Kazumi’s face. “They were in the hot tub like, all over each other.”

“Oh God.” Nanase giggles a little. A pleasant warmth is starting to creep up her spine, probably from the drink she’s been casually sipping. “Everyone is getting some, huh.”

“You could, you know, get some.” Kazumi gestures out to the crowd of party-goers. “Lots of people here who I am sure would be very interested in you, you know.”

“Pfft.” Nanase gazes out at the guests, some dancing, some sitting and talking, some drinking. There’s a lot of pretty girls here tonight. (There’s boys too, but Nanase has never once cared about boys in her life. She just filters them through her vision.) She’s not really the bold, go for it and hit on a girl type, but there’s a lot of  alcohol and loneliness starting to fill up her system right now. It couldn’t hurt to be a different Nanase, a new Nanase for a night. The surge of jealousy she feels when she watches Maiyan wrap her arms around Sayurin’s neck and laugh into her shoulder helps too.

“I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna meet someone tonight,” Nanase announces resolutely, and Kazumi chuckles, pulling her arm off her shoulder as Nanase stands up.

“Yes! Go for it!”

Nanase clutches her plastic cup close to her chest as she moves through the crowd of party attendees. They’re at a house, belonging someone that Nanase doesn’t know. There’s loud music and drinks, which is pretty much all you need for a party anyway. She scoops some mystery punch from a bowl on the table into her cup, watching as people intermingle with each other.

Across the room, she notices a girl staring at her, sipping from a bottle of beer. She quirks an eyebrow under her fringe and waves at Nanase.

“Hey,” Nanase says as she gets closer. “Who are you?”

“I’m Erika,” the girl says with a little smile. She looks mature, her blouse only unbuttoned at the collar, wearing little pearl earrings in her ears, which glint in the light when she tucks some hair behind her ear.

“I’m Nanase.” Nanase gives her best smile, even if it feels a little strained. “Tell me about yourself.”

Erika, it turns out, is a musical composition student from the university in town. A trained classical pianist (“why I have such dexterous fingers”, she had said with a smirk that had made Nanase sweat), who loved to sing and read.

“I think parties are sort of boring,” Erika says, taking a swig of her beer. “But I like coming here to see cute girls.” Her hand finds its way onto Nanase’s bare arm, and a prickle of goosebumps rises immediately.

“Me too,” Nanase replies, biting on her bottom lip. She’s so thankful Erika seems to be interested in her, because she can’t remember how to flirt, at all. Nanase never flirts. She usually just lets the girls do it to her. Maiyan was the one that showed interest first, the one that gave teasing touches on the surface of her skin and whispered mysterious words in her ear and—

She’s thinking about Maiyan again. God damn it. This was supposed to be something to get her mind off of her, not cloud her thoughts even more.
The burn of the alcohol in Nanase’s system is really starting to dull everything. Erika is smiling at her, sweetly, and fondly, and Nanase inhales a breath that tastes like bitter fruit. A distraction. She needs a distraction right now.

“Wanna kiss?” she sputters out. Erika’s eyes widen. “I mean—sorry. That was too forward. I’m sorry.”

“No, I love forward,” Erika says, and her hands reach up and grip at the sides of Nanase’s head, kind of covering her ears, muffling the music playing all around them as she presses her lips to Nanase’s.

It’s been a long while since Nanase’s kissed someone. Erika smells of heavy flowery perfume and musky shitty beer, and her lips are thin, but they’re soft, and she’s taking the lead, lowering her forearms to rest on Nanase’s shoulders, threading those musical fingers through her hair. It’s nice, it scratches some vague touch starved itch that is always burning at her, but its still not… enough. It’s not what Nanase wants, though she can’t even really be sure what she wants right now.

Just as Erika’s tongue begins to find its way into Nanase’s mouth, she feels something. A firm grip on her shoulder, a hand, but Erika’s two hands are still in her hair.

“Stop,” a voice says, and Nanase opens her eyes and pulls back from Erika’s face, turning around.

It’s Maiyan.

“What?” Nanase says in response, world spinning. Erika’s fingers unlace from her hair.

“Do you know her?” Erika says, voice hushed.

“Kind of,” Nanase says, words feeling all clogged up in her throat.

“You shouldn’t be kissing her,” Maiyan says. Her face is red, and her voice echoes with vulnerability.

“You know what,” Erika says, coughing into her hand, “I’m gonna let you two figure out whatever… this is.” She grabs her bottle from the table next to her, and backs away, studying the two of them with concern.

“What the fuck are you doing, Maiyan?”

“I didn’t like it.”

“Didn’t like what?” Nanase retorts, though she definitely knows the answer.

“You. Kissing her.” Maiyan folds her arms against her chest.

“It’s not your business who I kiss.”

“I think it is,” Maiyan retorts. She’s definitely drunk, very drunk, and she seems to be stumbling around her words like they’re catching onto her tongue.

“Why is it such a problem to you if I kiss girls?” Nanase hisses. “Do you not want to see me happy? Do you just intend on making me miserable forever? You did a pretty good job at knocking that one out of the park two years ago. You don’t have to go and make it even worse.”

Maiyan puts a hand to the wall, right next to Nanase’s ear, and leans in, chin digging into her shoulder.

“I don’t want you to kiss girls that aren’t me,” she whispers, and pulls back. “I’m going. Away. From you. Sorry,” she says, sentences stuttering out in fragments. “Bye.”

With that, Maiyan disappears back into the crowd of people, leaving Nanase alone.

—

“You ok?”

Nanase looks up from where she’s tracing a frowny face in ketchup with the tip of her fry, and blinks at Reika.

“Yeah. I just have a headache.”

Reika loudly sips her soda through her straw.
“What even happened last night?”
“We went to a party,” Nanase says blandly. She gazes out the window next to the booth her and Reika are sitting in, out into the parking lot. Maiyan is sitting on the curb near the van, smoking a cigarette, seeming far more pensive than usual.

“I know that, dummy. I mean, what happened at that party that has you so fucked up today?”

“Nothing happened.” Nanase grabs another fry, trying to tear her eyes away from Maiyan. “Unless you want to talk about you and the manager.”

Reika’s mouth hangs open for a second, then snaps shut.

“Gosh! Don’t embarrass me. I make bad decisions when I’m drunk.”

“I think she really likes you,” Nanase says, a little teasingly, happy to change the subject.

Reika groans, leaning back to take another sip of her cola.

“Did you and Maiyan kiss?” she suddenly blurts out, staring at Nanase.

“Did you and Yumi fuck?” Nanase quickly retorts.

“No!”

“Exactly. Don’t assume shit.”

“I think you two need to talk shit out.”

“It’s been a week. We’re fine.”

“You are anything but fine.”

Kazumi and Asuka walk up to the booth, orders in hand. Asuka slides into the booth.

“What are you two talking about?”
“I was just saying,” Reika scoots over a little to accommodate Kazumi sitting next to her, “that Nana needs to talk to Maiyan.”

“Well, obviously,” Asuka says.

“Maiyan stopped Nanase from kissing another girl last night,” Kazumi says sagely, and Nanase reaches across the table almost instantly to slap her arm.

“Don’t—” she starts, but Reika is already gasping.

“What? That’s what happened last night?” she says, turning to Nanase for conformation.

“You and your fuckin’ big mouth, Kazumi,” Nanase grumbles.

“You definitely should talk to her, then,” Asuka remarks as she unwraps her burger.

Out the window, Maiyan takes a long drag on her cigarette and turns her head. Her eyes meet Nanase’s, and they simultaneously both look away, embarrassed.

“Sold out show tonight,” says Nanase, wanting desperately to talk about anything but Maiyan.

Reika gives her that look, the look of motherly concern she wears when she’s unsure what to do with Nanase’s emotions. Sometimes, she’s such a good friend, it hurts. Nanase sighs.

—

At 2 AM, after the sold out show, Nanase wakes up in her hotel room with a strange craving for Skittles. Yumi had proposed they all go out drinking to celebrate the sold out show, but Nanase had opted out. She was tired, and she also never wanted to drink again after that horrible party. She had felt so exhausted after the show, but right now, she feels painfully awake. Kazumi is sleeping next to her, tugging most of the blankets over her body and peacefully snoring.

Nanase’s stomach growls. Why, at this hour, she’s hungry, she’s not sure. But all she can think about is Skittles, or really any sort of quick snack so that she can go back to sleep. Remembering the vending machine that stands in the motel parking lot, she groggily pushes herself out of bed, grabbing her wallet from where it sits on the nightstand. She carefully exits the room, trying not to wake her sleeping bandmates. She doesn’t even bother to put on shoes, and when she feels the cold pavement outside on the soles of her feet, she shivers a little.

Quickly, Nanase crosses the parking lot, barely even thinking, still acting on her sleep-addled urges. The vending machine is lit by a single overhead light, which flickers a little as she studies her late-night snack options. Skittles are 1.50. The machine is cash only.

Nanase puffs out a little sigh as she hunches over on the pavement, beginning to dig through her wallet for change. She finds five quarters, lying them out on the ground. She just needs one more, but she can’t seem to find one anywhere. Just as she’s about to give up and go back inside, a voice speaks from behind her.

“I’ve got a quarter.”

Nanase lets out a yelp, which reverberates through the motel parking lot. When she looks up at who’s speaking to her, she sees Maiyan. She’s still dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket, even though it’s two in the fucking morning.

Nanase scoops her quarters into the palm of her hand, and gets to her feet.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“No, let me. I know how hungry you can get at night. You want Skittles, right?” Maiyan grabs the quarters from Nanase’s palm, and pushes past her, digging into her own pocket to source the final one. Nanase winces, both at the sudden bodily contact with Maiyan, and at the fact that Maiyan knew exactly what she wanted. Before she can even protest, there’s a dull thud as the candy hits the bottom of the machine. Maiyan bends down, fishing the bag out and handing it to Nanase.

“Thanks,” she says softly. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I’m working.” She glances Nanase up and down. “Nice pajamas.”

Nanase suddenly remembers she’s wearing the matching pajama set Kazumi got her for her birthday, the one with the tiny cat faces all over, and she blushes a little.

“Um, thanks. Do you sleep in jeans?”

“Oh, no,” Maiyan chuckles. “I’m just not sleeping at all tonight. Trying to finish this new song.”

Nanase tears open the package of Skittles, pouring some into her palm. Maiyan pulls out a carton of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, slender fingers pulling out one and lighting it. As the flame dances in front of Maiyan’s features for a second, a strange sense of deja-vu crawls up Nanase’s spine.

“Want one?” Maiyan asks, blowing out a puff of smoke between her lips, watching as it curls towards the sky.

“No thanks.” Nanase pulls out a red Skittle from the bag. “I quit after college, after…” She trails off.

“It’s cool. I know you only started because of me in the first place. Don’t want to make you start again.”

Nanase bites her bottom lip, desperately wishing for Maiyan to just leave, to stop dredging up the past and all the things that make her stomach curdle.

“I should—” she begins, but Maiyan interrupts.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she says firmly. “For how I acted the other night, at the party.”

“We were both drunk, you don’t have to—”

“No, come on, Nanase. Listen to me. I was a bitch. I was acting like I did in college, all jealous and possessive and impulsive, and I shouldn’t have done that. Just let me say I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.”
“Okay,” Nanase says softly. “Apology accepted.” Her toes curl against the cold cement, and a cool nighttime breeze tosses at her hair a little bit.

“I wanted to say,” Maiyan continues, smoke pluming from her lips, “I know we obviously have history, and probably neither of us are ready to face that. But—I admire you, you know.” She flicks the little lighter in her free hand, flame sparking up and down. “As a coworker. You’ve always been so talented, so passionate, so good at what you do, y’know? With whatever history we have—when I look outside of that, Nanase, I see your brilliance. You’re a brilliant person.” The words to reply tangle in Nanase’s mind, and so she doesn’t say anything. Maiyan studies her, just for a second, and then continues. “It’s been a week of this, this tour, and I’ve been watching you every night.”

“Every night?” Nanase spits out in surprise.

“Yeah. Sometimes I do it from the side of the stage, or from the back of the crowd. It depends. I know you watch me too.”
“That was one night,” mumbles Nanase, trying to focus on sorting the different colors of Skittles in her palm. She doesn’t want to imagine Maiyan watching her, studying her, admiring her, even.

“You’re a really good performer. I always saw that in you.”

“There’s no need to flatter me.”
“I’m saying this as your peer, as another musician, not as an ex-girlfriend.”

The reference to the past stings Nanase again, sharp and quick.

“Okay. Thank you.” She tries not to make the words sound biting.

“What I’m saying—we should treat the rest of this tour like… like we’re coworkers. You’re just my opening band, right? It doesn’t have to be loaded with all this heavy shit from the past. We’re just square one. We’re acquaintances from work, and we can just treat each other like that. No more of this weird dance we’re doing.”

They’re quiet for a little while as Nanase thinks, watches the moon as it hides and appears again with passing clouds.

“I can do that,” Nanase finally says, gently.

“Okay.” Maiyan smiles at her, kind of strained.

“I’m going back to sleep,” Nanase announces. “Thanks for the um, Skittles.”

“Bye,” Maiyan says, huskily. “See you tomorrow.”

—

Suddenly, Maiyan starts to interact with Nanase on a regular basis.

When she sees Nanase licking her tongue across her dry lips, she offers a tube of chapstick, and the flavor rests in her brain for the rest of the day.

She asks to borrow a guitar pick from Nanase, and when she takes it, she flashes a smile that almost sends Nanase tumbling down a tunnel of memories, thinking of days of lent pencils and shared sticks of gum.

Small words, bites of conversation, tiny exchanges—they become a passing occurrence between the two of them. It’s almost as if the two of them are really just coworkers, two people both passionate about music that have happened to cross paths. Just like it was at the beginning.

It’s confusing. Nanase wants to hate Maiyan so bad, and she still does, but she’s still finding that gentle, warm Maiyan that she fell for in the first place so attractive.

She’s begun watching all of Synchronicity’s sets, every night, taking a drink and silently observing from the back of the venue. Sometimes her eyes meet Maiyan’s, and those moments are the ones that leave her lying awake at night.

—

Memories keep drowning Nanase, like an endless tide, only fueled by each random touch, each spare word Maiyan gives her.

She remembers Maiyan, her lips curled in a knowing smile, eyes twinkling, when she had leaned over in class and whispered, hushed, “Do you want to start a band?” She remembers Maiyan, singing sweet words, reading from scribbled notes in her journal, whispering “I wrote this one about you.” She remembers Maiyan, hair tossed over her face and panting hard as she pulls her lips away from Nanase’s, steadying herself with a hand on Nanase’s shoulder.

Nanase remembers everything—it’s not that she ever forgot it, it’s just that it comes back more vivid when the focus of all her memories is right in front of her.

She’s a different person now, and if she’s to trust Misa, Maiyan is too. Nanase when she met Maiyan was young and naive, eager-to-please. She’s learned now to build a shell around herself. To be cautious and careful with new people, and even the old ones. Before—Maiyan would praise Nanase, and those words, those encouragements, would make her melt, warm and proud. It made Nanase want to work harder, make more, be better. Everything was about Maiyan—whether it was the songs Maiyan wrote with her or the never-ending romance that seemed to always be sprouting between them.

Maiyan had said, one night, as they were practicing for their first show, that she was afraid of committing to things. She liked to move fast, go with the way the rivers of life carried her, and she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t concern herself with stopping for other people.

“But you—you’re special, Nanase,” Maiyan had said, smile eager and catty. “Maybe I’ll stop myself for you.”

It was those things that Maiyan said that ended up hurting the most when Nanase thought back on them. Because Maiyan hadn’t stopped herself. She had left.

—

On the morning of the day that officially marks them being 50 percent complete with the tour, Nanase certainly isn’t expecting Maiyan to crawl into the seat next to her in the van.

“Excuse me?” Nanase says.

Maiyan gives her a smile.

“Sorry? Asuka and Miona wanted to ride together today, so Asuka and I switched.”

Nanase grits her teeth, cursing her bandmate under her breath.

“Ok, but why did she have to switch with you?” 

“I don’t know. I just do what I’m told,” Maiyan laughs, but it's a little awkward. The atmosphere in the van is thick with tension. “I mean, if it’s that much of a problem for you—” Maiyan begins, but Nanase cuts her off.

“No. It’s fine, really. It’s just unexpected, is all.”

“Are you sure?” Maiyan asks as Reika opens the van door to get in the driver seat.

“Yeah, seriously, it’s fine.” Nanase curls her fingers into her leg, gripping it, hard, not making eye contact.

It’s an okay drive for a couple of hours. There’s no show tonight, as they have to get pretty far to the next stop, so everyone seems a little more relaxed. It’s quiet for a bit, until Kazumi and Maiyan start up a conversation about their favorite guitar pedals. Nanase listens, silently, staring out the window, trying not to look at Maiyan’s profile.

She won’t admit it, but she loves listening to Maiyan talk. Especially if it’s about something she’s so passionate about, like music. Maiyan has always loved the craft, the construction of the perfect song. Nanase has too, that’s why they connected on a level that was beyond physical attraction, a level that made them the perfect creative partners as well. Nanase loved her band, she loved them so much, but there was something different about when she worked with Maiyan, something complete that made her whole again, like her life had been missing the perfect thrumming baseline and that was what Maiyan brought.

Which is what made it so much worse when Maiyan had ripped it all away.

Nanase thinks of all the lost songs, the hours of work that went into them, that disappeared with Maiyan, and all of the potential songs—the future ones they never actually got to write, but that were buried down inside each of them.

Just as the image of walking into Maiyan’s apartment, to find it empty and abandoned, crosses Nanase’s mind, she’s startled into reality by a painful screech, followed by the sound of clanking machinery. The van jolts to a halt.

“What was that?!” Kazumi exclaims.
“I’ll pull over,” Reika says, and as she turns the wheel, the car makes several more painful noises as it drags itself to the side of the road. Nanase is kind of thankful for the chance to get some fresh air, and so as Kazumi and Reika run out to pop the hood, she gets out of the car too. It’s a chilly fall day, grey skies above, a chilly breeze passing over the empty highway. They’re surrounded by empty fields of grass, hints of tiny farmhouses dotting the distance.

Nanase begins to walk away from the van, just enjoying being able to stretch her legs. From behind, she hears another door slam, realizing Maiyan must be getting out of the van too. Soon enough, Maiyan is jogging in her direction. Nanase considers walking faster to get away, but it’s really no use, so she pauses in her steps to let Maiyan catch up.

“Hey,” Maiyan says, a little out of breath.

“Hey,” Nanase replies, kicking a little bit of gravel.

“I figured that maybe…” Maiyan looks behind her, at where Reika and Kazumi are arguing over something to do with fixing the car. “Since we might be stuck here for a while, I thought that we could talk.”

“I thought we already talked, a couple nights ago.”

Maiyan fiddles with her hands behind her back.

“About other stuff. About you and me.”

“What is there to talk about in terms of us?”

“Everything. All the shit I fucked up on, years ago.”

“You think we have time for that? Here, now?”

A car rushes by, and the passing wind it conjures tosses Maiyan’s hair around her face. She’s really beautiful—like a princess, or a supermodel, or a goddess maybe. It’s almost infuriating, Nanase thinks. Someone so beautiful shouldn’t be so damn complex and confusing.

“I thought we could start,” Maiyan says, face stark against the grey-white of the sky behind her. She runs a hand through her messy hair, and pauses, deep in thought. “It wasn’t our labels that wanted us to do this tour togethe,.” she continues. “It was me. I asked for you guys to be the opening band.” Maiyan looks off into the distance, past Nanase’s head.

“What?” Nanase says, confused.

“I mean, it was a good idea anyway. We fit together well. But I asked for it, specifically. I wanted to see you again.”

“Are you kidding me?” Nanase snaps. “I fucking put myself through this, through this shit, because my label told me that it’d be the best thing for my career and you’re saying to me that you did this because of some stupid unresolved shit from three years ago?”

“I wanted to say sorry. For running away, and for taking away everything we built.”

Words feel caught in Nanase’s throat, her tongue heavy and unable to come up with anything to say back. All her emotions feel muddled. There’s anger, bitterness, and yet—a tiny bit of fondness, of warmth, at the idea of Maiyan wanting to see her again. It’s strange. She feels strange.

“Let’s get dinner,” Nanase finally says, crossing her arms. “Let’s get dinner, tonight. Just you and I. Because I have shit to say to you too, you know.”
“I know,” Maiyan nods. “I’m ready to hear it.”

“Okay,” Nanase says, skin prickling with anxiety.

“Okay,” Maiyan repeats, and she smiles.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“But I shouldn’t avoid this anymore.”

“I shouldn’t either.”

“Guys!” Reika calls out. “I think we fixed it!”

—

Nanase remembers a conversation from several years ago during the rest of the ride. One she and Reika had, after Maiyan left.

“I think you and Maiyan were the right people for each other. You just met at the wrong time,” Reika had said, as she softly patted Nanase, who was sobbing into her shoulder, on the back. “You just both weren’t ready for each other.”

It had been a throwaway word of comfort at the time, or that was how Nanase had categorized it because she was bitter and angry at the idea of ever loving Maiyan, but now, it felt more real, more touching. Her and Maiyan had always fit together so well, too well even. They were perfect together. That’s why the idea of all those things that had been planned for their future—the apartment together, the album, the creative partnership—seemed like they could work. But it had scared Maiyan off. As effortless as Maiyan made everything seem, she overthought everything. Nanase knew that. But her and Maiyan had been so right for each other she didn’t think it would be a problem.

But when she found the post it note in Maiyan’s empty apartment with the word ‘sorry’ hastily scribbled in red marker, she knew that despite everything, Maiyan was still overthinking.

—

The motel they’re staying for the night is in a tiny little town just off the highway. There’s not a lot of restaurants, but there’s one diner walking distance from the hotel, and they agree to meet there at seven.
It almost feels like a date. Nanase stresses over what to wear, if she should do her makeup. She spends fifteen minutes in front of the bathroom mirror trying to get her eyebrows just right. How do you want to look when you go to meet your ex-girlfriend for dinner, anyway?

“Hot date?” Kazumi asks as she watches Nanase lace up her nicest pair of shoes.

“Not really. But kind of.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll just say that you and Reika and Asuka will be pretty happy with me.”

“What is it?” Reika shouts from the bathroom.

“Maiyan,” Nanase says, plainly. “I’m going to talk with her.” A round of collective gasps sounds out from inside the hotel room. Nanase rolls her eyes as she wiggles her arms into her coat. “Don’t be all dramatic about it, please.”

Kazumi lets out an excited squeal.

Fifteen minutes later, Nanase finds herself standing in the parking lot of the diner. It’s a cool fall evening, sky dark and cloudless above, the bright neon sign of the diner casting down blues and reds on her skin. Just ahead, in the window, she sees Maiyan sitting in a booth, drinking a cup of coffee and staring idly in another direction.

Anxiety hits Nanase like a crashing wave, and for a second, she considers turning away, running, going back to the hotel room and locking herself in the bathroom.

But she can’t run away from this. She refuses to, she’s got to face it, and Maiyan has to face it too. That’s what she always wanted, anyway. For Maiyan to stop running away.

She pushes open the door to the diner. It’s pretty empty, one or two people sitting at the bar, waitresses cleaning the tables. A jukebox plays some soft music that echoes along the walls of the diner. Nanase takes a deep breath, walking up behind Maiyan.

“Hey,” she says, putting a hand on the table as she slides into her seat. Maiyan looks up from her coffee, almost surprised. They’re facing each other now, and Nanase realizes she can’t even remember the last time they had a conversation this close to each other, this intimate.

“Hey.” Maiyan wraps both her hands around the mug of coffee. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Nanase almost lets a bitter reply slip from her lips, but she stops herself. 

“Well, I came anyway,” she says, tracing a nail along the glassy surface of the table, having a hard time making eye contact.

“I’m glad you did,” Maiyan smiles, and Nanase notices the red tint on her lips—did she do her makeup for this? “Want to order some food?”

“Yeah. I guess I’m hungry.”

They share a quiet moment as they both peruse the menu options, accompanied only by the crooning of a female singer through the jukebox speakers. Maiyan flags over the waitress with a crook of her fingers, and as they order (Nanase gets a salad and some fries, Maiyan gets a burger) it feels almost as if they’re on just a normal date for a second. Just two people, sharing some sort of mutual attraction, having a nice night together.

That all shatters when the waitress walks away, and Maiyan leans forward, and says, “Say it all to me.”

“Say what?” Nanase says, muscles tensing.

“Everything. Everything I fucked up on. Tell me it all. I want to hear it, Nanase, I have to face it. Tell me, please.” There’s almost a hint of desperation in Maiyan’s voice.

Nanase draws in a sharp breath, unsure what to say. She’s fantasized about this many times—chewing Maiyan out for all she did, how much she hurt her, but now that the opportunity is right there in front of her, Nanase finds every meticulously practiced word slipping away from her.

“I—” She stops, as the waitress puts her drink in front of her, and then focuses herself again. “I can’t just do that, Maiyan.”

“Why not? I fucked up. I know I did. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for three years.” Maiyan’s fingers drum against the surface of the table, and she lowers her voice. “All the stupid love songs I’ve written are about you, Nanase.”

It feels like Nanase’s heart is a wet rag being wrung dry, and she bites her tongue, trying to stop herself from crying, forcing all the tears back in.

“You’re doing it again,” Nanase says, voice wavering. She stirs the straw of her soda around and around in its glass.

“Doing what?”

“Making me fall in love with you. Like before. Maiyan, you—back then, you swept me off my feet, you know that. You were perfect.” Nanase watches the ice cubes in her glass knock against each other, not wanting to see whatever expression Maiyan is bearing on her unbearably gorgeous face. “I’d never met anyone like you, you know. Someone who made me fall like that, someone who made me feel so incredible. You seemed like the only person that cared about music like I did. I thought I’d found my partner for life, you know.”

“I know,” Maiyan says, softly. The waitress sets down their food. It seems neither of them are actually hungry.

“And then,” Nanase continues, “when you said you wanted to do something together, a project, a creative endeavor, I was thrilled, you know? Writing songs with you, it was like a dream come true. We work so well together, you and I, you said it yourself.” Nanase feels the tears at the corners of her eyes fighting to come out. “When I performed onstage with you, I felt something. Like that was where I was meant to be, forever. It was all going so well, everything was so perfect. We were gonna record an album, we had a record deal. And being in the studio with you—it was so perfect, Maiyan, I felt so alive and charged with all this energy to create music with the love of my life.” Nanase meets Maiyan’s eyes—she’s nodding, chewing on her bottom lip. Nanase keeps going. “We were going to move in together. Have a life making music together. And then right as the album was finished, you left me. You just left, without a word. Left me to rot.” Nanase punctuates the last word, finding it cold on her tongue. She has to pause to breathe, to think about what exactly she wants to say.

“I was scared,” Maiyan says, quietly, her voice practically trembling. Nanase hasn’t ever seen Maiyan like this—small, vulnerable, lacking the usual cool confidence she typically exudes. “I don’t commit to things.”

“I know you don’t.” Nanase picks up her fork, stabs a cherry tomato sitting in her salad, but doesn’t actually eat it. “But you could’ve given me a warning besides a post-it note and a half-hearted email after you moved across the country with our six months of work on an album I poured my fucking heart into.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that. I just don’t know if you mean it.”

The sound of dishes clattering from the diner kitchen fills the silence that passes between them for a few moments.

“I mean it,” Maiyan finally says, sitting up straight in her seat. Her eyes meet Nanase’s, and they’re glossy and wet, because she’s fighting back tears too. “I love—I loved you. I don’t just love people. You’re special. That’s what scared me. I got scared of being that attached to someone, that undeniably meant to be with someone. I was worried, I had my whole life ahead of me, and to just suddenly meet someone, the person that could be the one, I wasn’t ready to face it. I left like that because I knew that if I had to look in your eyes—I wouldn’t be able to leave.”

“You told every girl you flirted with they were special. What makes me any different?”

“Because I went back to find you, because you wouldn’t fucking escape my mind for the past three years, despite everything I did to try to get you out of me, you just wouldn’t leave. It’s like you’re engraved in my brain, Nanase.”

“You shouldn’t have left,” Nanase says, letting her fork clatter to her plate. There’s tears rolling down Maiyan’s cheeks, catching the blue and red light of the neon signs, and it makes Nanase’s fingers tremble. She has no idea what she wants right now. She rips a napkin out of the dispenser and uses it to dab at the tears streaking down Maiyan’s face. “But you haven’t left my mind either,” she says, trying not to get choked up. “I haven’t even had another relationship for the three years since you left.”

Maiyan takes the napkin from Nanase’s hand, blowing her nose, face a little red.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats.

“Stop saying that.” Nanase feels fondness creeping into her tone.  “I understand. I’m not ready to forgive you, but I understand that you’re sorry.”

“Okay.” Maiyan looks down at her lap, almost bashful. It’s odd—in the past, Nanase was the embarrassed one, the nervous one, the unsure and apologetic one, but now it feels like the roles are being reversed. Things really have changed.

“I’m glad we talked. I’m sorry if I was rude before. I’m just… processing. Processing everything.”

“Wait, hold on. I’ve got something for you.”

Maiyan fishes something out of her pocket, and slides it across the smooth surface of the diner table. It’s a USB drive, compact and black, attached to a purple keychain shaped like a triangle. She gives Nanase a hopeful smile. The mascara around her eyes is smudged from crying, but she still looks really pretty, Nanase thinks.

“It’s the Influencer project. The whole album, the demos, everything we made together. I know I took it all with me when I left, but I kept it all. I want you to have it back. You can do whatever you want with it—you can burn it, release it as your own, whatever. I just want you to have it.” Maiyan places the USB in the palm of Nanase’s hand as she says all this. It feels heavy—obviously not physically, but emotionally. That one tiny USB is hefty with three years of unspoken words, unwritten lyrics, incomplete melodies. It makes Nanase’s heart twist again, her stomach doing flips when she meets Maiyan’s eyes and tucks the USB in her own pocket.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. I thought you would’ve thrown everything away.”

“Never.” Maiyan shakes her head, lips pursed. She pushes her still untouched plate of food to the side to rest her elbows on the table and lean closer. “Listen, Nanase. This… all this. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. This is just closure, or some attempt at getting this huge wound I opened to heal, just a little bit. When this tour is over, we can just go our separate ways if we want, and never talk again. I really, really messed shit up. I know that. I know it’s probably impossible to forgive. I just wanted to face you again and say that I’m sorry.”

Honesty sparkle’s in Maiyan’s eyes, that kind of raw truth that Nanase never really got to see in the past, because Maiyan was always hiding behind so many walls of fabricated emotion. This Maiyan, the one right in front of her, is more real than any Maiyan she’s ever seen before.

“Just give me some time to think about it,” Nanase finally says, and Maiyan nods. For a couple minutes, they just enjoy the quiet of the diner, the gentle music serenading them on this lonely night.

—

Nanase’s still been in love with Maiyan this whole time. The realization hits her, like a brick, at a rather inconvenient time—when she’s standing onstage, performing. She almost lets her fingers slip off the strings of her guitar, but she catches herself before she can lose focus. The realization still rings in her head, like it’s a song so catchy she can’t shake it even if she tries to think about something else.

She’d always convinced herself that the moment Maiyan left—any of that love and affection she had towards Maiyan turned into hate, instantly. Her soul had rotted and gone bitter that day, she promised herself. She just had been ignoring that beneath those darkened, hateful layers of her heart, there was still love left for Maiyan, that spark of attraction that drew them together in the first place. Nanase knew that now—and it was like whatever she’d been hiding inside of her was starting to spill out, infect every inch of her being.
It wasn’t’t like she wasn’t mad at Maiyan anymore—Maiyan had fucked up, they both knew that, obviously. But that didn’t change that she loved Maiyan, still loved her like the way she loved music.
In a way, Maiyan was a lot like music—as corny as that was to say. In a song, there’s all these tiny little pieces, fragments that come together, from the rhythm of the drums to the thrum of the bass to the melody of the guitar. Maiyan is like that too—she’s so complex, built from all these parts, some wonderful and some not-so-perfect, but when they come together, she becomes this whole, beautiful person. She washes over you like a beautiful song that’s so lovely you forget how much there is to her; all the layers and interlocking melodies.

Loving Maiyan—for Nanase, it’s just like loving music. Sometimes it hurts, a bit. Music makes you feel all these things, complex emotions you could never put into words. Maiyan does the same, makes Nanase feel like she’s engulfed in the loudest symphony of emotion she’s ever experienced, yet so clearheaded at the same time. Nanase feels the same passion and desire for Maiyan that she feels about music, that thrumming drive in her gut to pursue, to create, to be completely swallowed by it all.

Oh god, Nanase loves Maiyan.

Not just any kind of love. It’s not like Asuka and Miona’s love, which is still young and fresh, maturing into something from its pure origins. It’s not like the love that her and Maiyan even felt for each other in the first place. It’s the kind of love that’s been battered and worn by the world, but it still stands. The kind of love that’s seen the ugliest parts of someone and still wants to be there, even if it denies it. The love that remains, even if dormant, for three years, like burning embers of hope refusing to die. That’s the love she has for Maiyan, she realizes.

All of this crashes down on her onstage, but even if she’s having a fucking life crisis the show must go on, so she focuses, keeps on playing despite it all, muscle memory guiding her at this point. When the set is over, she runs offstage with a quick bow, finding her phone and her headphones in her bag in the green room, and runs to the bathroom.
There, she locks the door of one of the stalls, and puts on her headphones, scrolling through her music library until she finds Synchronicity’s latest album. As it starts to play in her earbuds, Maiyan’s words from last night echo in her head.

“All the stupid love songs I’ve written are about you, Nanase.”

—

Nanase tries to take another day to just ‘think about it’ like she promised Maiyan she would. But no matter what she does, where she goes, her brain just keeps repeating the same thing: You’re in love with Maiyan, you’re still in love with her, you always have been, you fucking idiot.

Riding in the car, she thinks about how she’s in love with Maiyan. During soundcheck, she thinks about how she’s in love with Maiyan and almost falls off the stage when she leans forward on her mic stand, lost in thought. She definitely thinks about how she’s in love with Maiyan when the object of said love passes her in the hallway and gives her a squeeze on the shoulder, and her whole stomach explodes into a million butterflies.

She’s got to do something about this, right now. She can’t wait any longer.

Nanase has been lying in their hotel room for an hour now, thinking about it all. Suddenly, she sits up, grabbing her shoes from the ground and quickly shoving them on. Reika looks at her, surprised.
“What are you up to? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“I’m going to tell Maiyan I love her,” Nanase blurts out, and she doesn’t even see her best friend's appalled expression as she runs out the door, a surprising confidence burning in her veins.  She charges down the carpeted hallways of the hotel until she finds room 292, where she knows Synchronicity are sleeping, and she raps her fist on the door.

“Who’s there?” Sayurin’s voice calls out.

“It’s me. Nanase.”

The door creaks open, and Sayurin is standing there, in her pajamas, eyebrows raised.

“What do you need?”

“Is Maiyan here?” Nananse asks, peering just past Sayurin’s head into the hotel room. It looks like just Misa is there, who’s watching TV from her bed.

“She’s at the pool. Swimming,” Misa says, looking in Nanase’s direction. “I think she’s stressed out,” she remarks pointedly, not exactly mean, but more direct, like she can sense what’s going on.

“Okay, thanks,” Nanase breathes out, palms of her hands feeling clammy. Anxiety courses through her, at war with the confidence of this new sudden realization about her feelings for Maiyan. She turns around, and runs to the stairwell, giving a passive wave to Sayurin, who looks mostly confused.

This hotel is nicer than a lot of the ones they’ve stayed in, so it has an indoor pool. The smell of chlorine greets Nanase as she heads down the stairs into the pool area. It’s quiet. No one seems to be here—except that through the glass doors, Nanase can see a figure swimming laps up and down the length of the pool. She pushes open the doors. The room is eerily silent—the only sound the splashing of water echoing off the walls, the reflections from the pool’s surface creating webs of light on the ceiling.

“Maiyan?” Nanase calls out across the length of the pool. She’s barefoot, feeling the damp cement beneath her feet, and realizes she’s standing here, by the pool, in her pajamas. The figure at the end of the pool turns to look at her.

“Nanase?” Maiyan replies, and starts swimming in her direction, towards the shallow end. “What are you doing here?”

Nanase considers lying and saying she came to swim, but then she remembers she’s in her sleepwear, and that would be ridiculous. So she tells the truth.

“I came to see you.”

“Oh.” Maiyan swims closer, and she’s more visible now, wet hair sticking to her face, which is dewy with water. She looks almost mermaid-like, ethereal. Even inside some random hotel’s pool, treading water, Maiyan seems like a goddess from above. She swims up to where Nanase is standing at the edge of the pool, and her hands grip at the edge, right in-between Nanase’s toes, looking up at her. “So you did your thinking, then?”

Awkwardly, Nanase sits on the ground, crosslegged, so that she can feel less like a giant gazing down at Maiyan. She’s aware her butt will get wet, but she doesn’t really care about that right now.

“I did,” Nanase says. Maiyan cocks her head to the side, lets go of the edge to wring some water out of her hair. God, she’s beautiful. Even if Nanase was still pretending to hate her, she wouldn’t be able to deny how fucking gorgeous Maiyan was.

“Wait, let me get up next to you,” Maiyan says, and swims over to the ladder, pulling herself up and out of the pool, walking with damp footsteps and sitting herself on Nanase’s right side. She dangles her legs in the water. “Okay. So you did your thinking, on us.”

“Yeah.” Nanase tries hard to swallow down her anxiety, to regain that confidence from just minutes ago. Maiyan is making direct eye contact with her, the wet sheen of water on her face still catching some of the underwater light from the pool. It’s hard to remember the last time they were even this close to each other.

“And?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Nanase blurts out. It practically escapes her, like it’s been waiting to wrangle its way out of her throat for these three long years. “Me. Nanase. I’m in love. With you. Maiyan.”

Maiyan’s eyes widen.
“Nanase, I—you don’t have to—”

“No, Maiyan. Listen. Hear me out, please. I mean this. Like you mean you’re sorry, I mean I’m in love with you, for real.” She pulls her knees to her chest, rolling up the bottoms of her pants so that her shins are bare, and puts her feet in the water, next to Maiyan’s. “I hated you. I did, I really hated you, for what you did. Maybe I still do, a little bit. But I never stopped loving you. I pretended I did, sure, but you can’t shake that. You can’t shake loving someone like how I loved you, Maiyan.” She purses her lips, kicks at the water around her feet, and her voice lowers a bit. “All my stupid love songs were always about you, too.”

She feels it instantly—Maiyan’s wet limbs grabbing her, wrapping around her shoulder. Maiyan is hugging her. Nanase can’t remember the last time they touched, this intimately at least, and she realizes how instantly familiar it feels, even if Maiyan is sopping wet and dripping water all over her pajamas. It’s comforting. It feels right. Cathartic, even. A release of something that’s been boiling inside her for so long, something she once thought of as hatred, but she knows now was affection. She turns, wraps her arms around Maiyan’s wet shoulders too, lets out a little sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Maiyan says, resting her head on Nanase’s shoulder, cold strands of hair against her neck.

“I told you to stop saying that,” Nanase chuckles.

“I’m in love with you too,” Maiyan says, and Nanase feels her smile even if she can’t see it. “We’ve got a lot to figure out.”

“We do,” Nanase replies, gently. “I’m sorry too.” She pulls back a little, so she can see Maiyan’s face. “You got me all wet.”

“Oops.” Maiyan sheepishly smiles. It’s hard to tell if she’s crying or if her face is just wet from swimming. Suddenly, she grins, almost devilishly. “Well, might as well go all the way then.”

“What?” Nanase says, and right as she does, Maiyan shifts all her weight to one side, sending the two of them into the water with a comically loud splash. Nanase hears Maiyan laugh right as she goes underwater, limbs untangling from the other girl’s, sound muffled by the water. She breaks to the surface first, treading water in her damn pajamas, and Maiyan quickly follows, head breaking through the water, grinning like she’s so incredibly proud of herself.

Nanase sputters, leaning back against the tiled wall of the pool.

“I hate you,” she spits out, but it’s hard to hold back her smile.

“I thought you were in love with me,” Maiyan says, fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

“I’m soaked! These pajamas were a gift from a very loving friend!”

“It’s water, dummy. They’ll be fine.”
Nanase reaches up to rub her eyes to see Maiyan more clearly. She’s smiling, and Nanase’s heart is doing backflips. It’s been so long since they were last like this, just teasing and having fun together. Something under the water touches her, and she realizes its Maiyan’s hand. Maiyan is taking her hand, all gentle and tender, lacing their fingers together, looking so vulnerable, so sweet, so caring.

“This doesn’t have to be anyth—” Maiyan begins, but Nanase grabs onto her shoulder with her free hand and interrupts.

“Just kiss me already, idiot, before I change my mind.”

Maiyan laughs, and leans in, hands sneaking up to softly wrap around her, fingers finding Nanase’s sticky wet hair. She presses their lips together, almost cautious, then a little more firm after a few seconds. Her wet fingertips ghost little circles on Nanase’s skin, and Nanase gasps against Maiyan’s mouth.

It’s everything she wanted out of the kiss with Erika, but more, because it wasn’t how she was being kissed, it was the person she was kissing. It feels new, too. The last time they had kissed—her and Maiyan—had been the day before Maiyan left. Nanase hadn’t known she was going to leave, not yet, just thought it was a simple kiss between two girlfriends, but Maiyan new, and it had felt almost sour when their lips touched. Now, it’s saccharine sweet again, sharing this moment with the girl she loves, the girl who plays her heart like the strings of her guitar. It’s ridiculous really, when you zoom out, see the girl in her pajamas kissing the girl in the swimsuit in the hotel pool of all places, but in this moment, it’s absolutely perfect.

She can sense the change, the maturity, taste it on Maiyan’s lips. They’ve grown into each other. One more vulnerable, one more hardened by time. An elegant balance.

Maiyan pulls back, and Nanase rests a hand on her cheek, thumb tracing over the mole just above her lip.

“Let’s get out of this swimming pool,” she says, and Maiyan laughs sweetly, all the ice Nanase once imagined in her eyes gone.

—

It’s the last night of tour.

It’s been bittersweet. It feels like her and Maiyan are endlessly catching up on lost time, feeling out where they stand with each other now that everything is so different. Different, yes, but it’s better. Things like soft touches, the lightest of kisses, it all feels reinvigorated. Nanase is falling in love, all over again.

“Ahh… young love,” Asuka remarks once, watching her and Maiyan play with each other’s hands. “I remember when Miona and I were like that.” Nanase fights the urge to throw her guitar at her.

Currently, she’s standing at the side of the stage, watching Maiyan perform. She’s so electric, alive, as she sings into the mic, crooning each word like it’s her last breath.

This song is about me, Nanase remembers, and smiles to herself. Maiyan strikes the last chord on her guitar, and the crowd erupts into a roar. Maiyan smiles eagerly, still proud of herself after all these performances. She waits for everyone to settle, then rests her hand on the mic, holding up a hand to quiet everyone.

“For our next song, I’m bringing out a special guest.” The crowd oohs and ahhs, waiting expectantly. “This person is a very dear friend to me. Someone I care about a lot, who probably knows me better than anyone else. We had a rough patch, but now we’re back, and better than ever.” Maiyan looks to her right, and meets Nanase’s eyes, lips curling into an excited grin. “I’m so thankful to have her in my life. Ladies and gentlemen, Nishino Nanase from Secret Graffiti!”
The crowd absolutely loses it as Nanase walks onstage, humbly, guitar in hand, trying to contain her happiness. She walks to the second mic besides Maiyan, waits again for everyone to hush themselves.

“Um,” she pauses, and sees Maiyan is giving her a reassuring smile, “This is a song we wrote together, way back when, and actually, we…”

“We’re going to be releasing it soon.” Maiyan finishes her sentence, into the mic. “We’re going to be releasing an album together, under the name Influencer, don’t miss it!”

More cheering, and Nanase smiles at the crowd.

“Please enjoy the first performance of Influencer in 3 years,” she says, and strums the first note on the guitar.

If performing music is Nanase’s happy place, then performing music with Maiyan must be heaven, because she feels incredible. It comes back to both of them like instinct, like it hasn’t been three years at all. To know that both her and Maiyan made this music, and they made it together, and that they’re sharing it with the world, together, it making Nanase feel like she could lift off the ground in elation. She loves this. She loves performing. She loves music. Most of all, she loves Maiyan, despite everything.

When the song is over, Maiyan grabs her cheeks, and pulls her in for a kiss, and Nanase naturally relaxes into it as if they’re the only two people in the world. She thinks again, of Reika’s words about right people, wrong time. She thinks that now, three years later, this is the right time. This is the right time for the both of them.