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You want to say you have no clue how you ended up here - sipping soda, alone in a run-down joint - but you know exactly how you got here because this is a monthly occurrence. Leaning on your elbow with your cheek resting against your palm, you stare up at the band on stage.
Well, not the band, per se - it was the guitarist; your best friend who had you wrapped around his finger: Semi Eita.
Lazy smirk, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on his music - his ash coloured hair is kept out of his eyes by a clip at the top of his head (a clip he’d stolen from your room half an hour before the show, no less). He looks beautiful under the coloured lights on stage. Enchanting is a good word for him.
He seems so unattainable despite being a few feet away from you right now; tomorrow he would be closer when you sat together in class, but still elusive as ever. He's like... he's like the modern-day Apollo, and maybe he was the real one for all you knew, because you've yet to hear music sweeter than his, or seen a face more beautiful; surely a lie could never pass those lips.
You give him a thumbs-up as his eyes fall on you - you can see his shoulders bounce slightly as he tries and fails to suppress a chuckle. You wish you could hear it.
You don’t mean to be so hopelessly in love with him, you couldn’t help it.
The song finishes out and Semi nudges the lead singer's calf with his foot. He nods when his bandmate looks to him.
“Alright guys,” the lead - Mori - speaks up, “this next song was written by our guitarist for someone who will remain nameless at Semi’s request.” The bandmates snicker at Semi’s reddening face, but his expression doesn’t change.
You’re practically vibrating in your seat - Semi had performed chords for you; late nights after study sessions in his dorm room, but every time he refused to share the lyrics with you.
“What d’you think?” he’d ask as he removes his fingers from the frets of his guitar, leaning back in his desk chair.
“It’s nice,” you’d reply from his bunk, peering down at him over the rail, “it’d be nicer if I knew the lyrics.”
“You’ll hear them when Mori sings them,” he mumbles, going back to strumming.
You don’t know why Semi’s insistent on you only hearing the lyrics to the songs he writes when they’re part of the completed piece - you’re sure his songs would sound lovely if it were just him and his guitar, in his room as usual; though part of you knows it would be lovely because of him.
Familiar notes flow through the air as Semi begins, just as beautiful now as when you’re sleep-deprived. Akihiko, their drummer, joins in not long after, followed soon after by Takeo, the bassist. It’s come together better than you could imagine (Semi constructed this song through meticulous hours of work - it was bound to sound amazing). Mori begins singing a few seconds later, a hush falling over the crowd with the exception of a few groupies who quietly squealed.
“I got my bags all packed, and I'm ready to go
I'm standing outside of your figurative door
I'm ready for the flight or to fall off a cliff
But if it's alright with you, I'd rather not miss out on us
'Cause your face is all I need to stay sane,”
Ah, so Semi had decided to go and be a sap, not exactly what you’d expect from the setter; based on looks alone, you’d assume him to be reserved with his emotions, to keep them sheltered - and to be fair, he does, most of the time; only his close friends know that he’s a huge sap, nothing but a sook.
But hey, you're just the walking cliche that went and fell for her best friend - who’re you to call someone a sap?
A girl taps your shoulder as she comes to sit beside you - her names Ryoko, she attends Shiratorizawa with you; she’s a pretty thing, could have any guy at the school if she wanted, and judging by the way she’s fidgeting she wants Semi; why else would she come to see the oracle.
“I tied my stomach in knots, and I'm ready to know
I'll put it on the line if you'd just give it a go
'Cause I wanna be the only one to hold you so close and so tight
If it's cool with you, I'd really love to spend the night
You say you never wanna be saved
Well, that's okay 'cause I wouldn't know how,”
“Hey, (L/n),” Ryoko says - she’s very much nervous, so you put your hand over top of hers and flash her a kind smile in an attempt to calm her down.
"Hey, Ryoko, what's up?" the music fades into the background as you speak - you may as well give her your full attention, she did make the trip to Delphi after all.
She calms slightly at your gesture, taking a deep breath before speaking, "I wanted to confess to Semi, do you know if he's seeing anyone?" Huh. Usually, people ask how to confess, never the less you welcome the easy question with a sorrowful smile.
“You're on my mind
And things that you say hurt me most of the time
But I'm on your side
'Cause I know I'm not easy to deal with sometimes
But I'm sinking fast, it's alright.”
"Nah, he’s single."
She smiles brightly and you can see why so many boys are tripping over themselves to confess to her. "Ah, thank you so much (L/n)!" She squeezes your hand before leaving for her friends again. You focus back on the stage, your drink suddenly leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, or maybe it's the fact that you might have to watch as he accepts a confession.
You sway to the song, trying to make eye contact with Semi to let him know it sounds amazing, but he seems more focused on the frets of his guitar; he’ll be tired after the gig, so you’ll tell him tomorrow in class is what you decide.
“'Cause I know I'm not easy to deal with sometimes
But once in a while
I wish you would tell me if you even care
As I'm sinking fast
I'm sinking fast
And I need you, I need you, I need you
I need you, I need you, I need you to know I'm alright.”
Semi, Takeo, and Akihiko played a few seconds longer before the song comes to a close and people begin to clap and cheer, yourself included. They have a few more songs to play, but you’re more than happy to stay for them even though you know you’ll have to sneak back into the school when they re-enter school grounds past curfew (something you had very much not gotten permission for unlike them). Your drink’s empty, you’re more than due for a refill. Pushing through the crowd of people, empty glass in hand, you find yourself at the bar once again, handing the bartender your empty glass before ordering another glass of what you’d been drinking.
“This one’s on me,” a boy about your age comes up beside you, sliding some money across the counter before turning to you, “can I just say? Your eyes are beautiful - they must be colour contacts.” He leans against the bar as you slide the drink towards him.
“Negging’s extremely archaic.” You signal the bartender for another glass, “Thank you for the drink, but I make a habit of not accepting them from strangers.” And I’m in love with my best friend…
Turning on your heel with your glass in hand, you head back to your original spot after paying, listening to the rest of the set before meeting with Semi and his bandmates backstage to head back to the school.
When he sits beside you in class the next day, he's still unattainable despite being your friend.
As he sits, he picks up the love note that a girl had left on his desk before class had started; ever similar to Phoebus, girls fawn over him. He thumbs at the edge of the envelope before shoving it in his bag. You'd seen who dropped it off. It was Ryoko.
“Did you see who dropped this off?”
“Even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you,” you stick your tongue out at him as he rolls his eyes, “besides, I think you’ll like her.” I hope you’ll like her so I can kick myself out of this crush. “Oh, I liked your song, by the way.”
“Thanks, you really helped,” he pulls his notebook out of his bag along with a pencil, “dare I say, I should put you down as co-composer.”
“Sure, Semi - how the hell could I have helped come up with that?” You lean against your palm, raising an eyebrow as you speak.
“You help me by being there,” he smiles and you have to look away because it’s too sweet, “I dunno, you just help me think.”
You purse your lips turning away so he can’t see how flustered you are, “Oh, shut up Semi!” You can hear him snickering behind you.
“So, are you going to watch practice today?” The teacher enters as Semi speaks.
"Nah, I've got a project I have to work on - maybe tomorrow," you both shift your attention to the front as the teacher begins to call attendance - your conversation doesn’t stop just yet, though.
"Drop by my dorm tonight?"
"When don't I?"
And just like that, class is starting.
Semi doesn't get it (at least you hope he doesn’t); how being near him is enough for you - sure you'd love to be with him like that, but you know this is as close as you'll ever get, and you're fine with that. He's constantly trying to convince you to go out with the guys that confess to you on rooftops at dusk - there’ve been a few, but none of them holds a candle to Semi, despite how sweet they are. An oracle is required to relinquish all responsibility to others to serve her god.
“C’mon, it’s just one date with the guy - it can’t hurt.” Semi would say as he worked at his desk. You preferred working on his bed - you could look at him without getting caught.
“I’m not ready to start seeing someone,” you’d reply.
Sure, you're not ready - you just don't wanna break some poor guy's heart by loving your best friend more than you love him, it’s not fair to them that you can’t get over this stupid crush. It only serves to reinforce that he doesn’t love you that way.
Semi pokes your thigh, passing a note to you when you look to him.
‘What class is she in?’
“I’m not telling you who she is!” You whisper-shout. God, you hope he accepts Ryoko’s confession.
He doesn’t. He hasn’t even told you yet but you can tell based on Ryoko’s state.
She blames you for it. That bright smile she had given you last night was replaced by a glare, eyes puffy and red. Her friends glare at you too. Why can’t he just say yes to one of them?
“You’re a regular heart breaker, you know.” You stare at his ceiling, arms across your middle, “did you at least let her down easy?”
“I told her any guy would be lucky to have her, but she’s just not the one for me.” Then who is the one for you, Semi? Because I can’t take much more of this.
“It was just a date - it wouldn’t have hurt to go.”
It would’ve hurt you so, so much if he had gone.
A month later, you find yourself in another bar. Once again, Semi, Mori, Akihiko, and Takeo are on stage, their groupies at the forefront of the crowd. And, once again, you're towards the back, sipping on a soda. You wish it got easier - seeing him wink at girls as part of his act.
He didn’t have a chance to steal a clip from you before the show, and his hair is constantly in his eyes. You almost want to climb on stage and tie his hair back for him - it's clearly in his way.
His eyes land on you, seeking validation, and as always you give him a thumbs up. He smiles - the one that's reserved for you, it's more sincere than the one he gives others; it's not a huge, toothy grin, or a small closed mouth one - it's just in the middle, his top row of teeth barely visible as his cheeks scrunch up with his nose, the type of smile that takes up his whole face.
The type of smile that makes your heart melt and your knees weak.
As their song finishes out, there's a loud cheer from the door. A loud, distinct cheer.
“That's what I’m talking about Semisemi!”
Ah, Tendō had decided to come to this show.
Semi, face red as a tomato, nudges Mori out of the way to gain access to the microphone.
“Shut up, Tendō.” The entire venue erupts in laughter, Tendō included as he spots you.
“Love you too Semisemi!” He calls while walking towards your table, though it’s slightly drowned out as chatter picks back up. “So, (L/n), how's your budding romance with everyone's favourite guitarist?”
“There's no romance, Tendō,” you say, taking a sip from your drink, “so get that idea out of your head.” Of course Tendō knew - you weren’t even that close with him for Christ’s sake! But no, he just had to be good at reading people; part of you worried that he’d spill the beans to Semi one day, accidentally ruining your friendship with the setter (though you know he’d never do it on purpose).
“Keep telling yourself that, (L/n),” he throws an arm around you, making you both sway, though there's no music playing right now - the boys are taking a break.
Averting your eyes from your obnoxious, crimson-haired friend, you look back to Semi who's running his fingers through his hair for the nth time tonight to keep it from his eyes. Sighing, you shrug Tendō’s arm off of you, making your way towards the stage.
Semi spots you, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question of ‘what's up?’. You raise your arm, snapping the hair elastic you always keep there for these occasions. His eyes light up before letting his bandmates know he’s taking a second. He puts his guitar in its stand, then hops off the stage, meeting you off to the side.
“You’re a lifesaver!” He grins, pulling you into a hug.
“Yeah, yeah, just take your stupid elastic and get back on stage,” you pull away from the hug, holding your wrist out for him to take the elastic. He stares at it before scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Could you do it?”
“Semi-”
“They always stay in longer when you do them,” he coos while clasping his hands together and squeezing his eyes shut, “please?” Oh my god, he’ll be the death of me.
“Fine, fine.” he cheers as you give in, grabbing a chair to sit in, while you stand behind him, gathering his hair. The dark tips are fading from his hair - you would have redone it while you were trimming it the other night, but neither of you had time to run to the store. “We need to redo your tips,” you mumble, but he just hums as your fingers rake through his hair. With a few fluid turns of your wrist, the elastic is wound into his hair, effectively holding back his ash-coloured locks.
“There, no get back on stage, your groupies miss you.” You pat his shoulders as he stands, yourself turning to leave. But he cages you into another hug, this one from behind; he picks you up, your eyes widening as you kick at the air, squealing for him to let you down; which he does after a moment or two. You punch his shoulder as he walks away, he laughs, and god you love that laugh.
“Since Semi decided to slink off,” Mori speaks into the mic, “we’re going to embarrass him by playing one of his songs.” You can almost hear Semi groan as he leans over to ask Takeo what song they were playing. As you take your place beside Tendō, you watch as Semi bows his head, slightly shaking it as a bashful smile on his face.
“Y’know you’re the only other person he lets touch his hair,” Tendō leans over to tell you as Akihiko counts them in. Semi begins immediately, Mori joining in not two seconds later. You don’t recognize it and your stomach drops when you think that maybe, just maybe, he’d found someone else to play for.
“So what if I am?” you reply to Tendō, “I was the first person to dye his ends, much to his mother's dismay.”
“He says you're the only one that gets it right.” He hums.
“What's wrong with having that opinion? I’d like to think I’m the world's finest at-home hairdresser.”
“Remember when you tried to layer his hair for the first time?”
“Keyword being ‘first’ - now be quiet, I’m trying to listen.” You elbow his ribs, earning a chuckle from the redhead.
“You know I'm stupid for you
I'm colour coding my moods
You're yellow, I'm natural blue
Let's get together and be green like my insides,”
It's beginning to sound familiar now - a wave of relief flooded you upon realizing that; if you wanted to keep one thing, it would be your position as co-composer.
“Um, excuse me - (L/n)? ” An underclassman from Shiratorizawa comes to stand opposite you and Tendō; you recognize her from the cheerleading team. Ah, once again you are in Delphi, ever the dutiful oracle.
“Hey there, what can I do for you? It’s Manani, right?” You smile sweetly, once again elbowing Tendō as he rolls his eyes.
“Y-yes, I was wondering if you could ask Semi to meet me on the rooftop tomorrow? During lunch I mean,” She picks at her nails, unable to meet your eyes.
“Sure thing,”
“Let's trash our whole afternoon
Reciting recycled news
Until we meld and go back to your hotel room
I'll be your new favourite tune
I'll be your Black Cloud by June
But only when you miss the rain like I miss you,”
“Why do you do that?” Tendō asks once Manani departs, eyes narrowed at you.
“Do what?” You raise your eyebrow, sipping on your drink.
“You could save yourself so much heartbreak if you just… said no.” What the hell is he on about? You can’t just say no - you have to give Semi his confessions; that way it’ll be hammered into your head that you as Semi are never going to get together.
“I have to say yes,” you mumble.
“You're playin' ring round my head
I'll wear you like a halo
You're a symphony, I'm just a sour note
I'll take what I can get
The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you
And everybody wants you,”
“He cares about you a lot,” Tendō says, “more than a lot.”
“Stop it,” you frown, taking your eyes from the stage to look at him, he keeps his eyes on the stage, half-lidded as usual. “You can’t mess with me like I’m Goshiki.” Your eyes fall to your drink, stirring it and watching ice cubes bob up and down.
“I’m not messing with you, I’m-”
“Tendō, just stop!” Your open palm meets the table, but he doesn’t flinch, instead pursing his lips. “Any romantic feelings are on my side and my side alone, so just stop, please.” With hurt bubbling in your gut, you do something you’d never once dreamed of in your time supporting Semi and his band - you leave early. You can hear the music fading as you exit the venue, nausea and a need for air overtaking you as you push through the crowd of people.
“Hey, tell me that you want me to stay
You know I'm stupid for you
Hey, can you come and come out and play
You know I'm stupid for you,”
One, two knocks, a pause, then a third - the knock pattern you’d followed since you’d both been accepted to Shiratorizawa. “You left early,” Semi says while standing in the entrance to your dorm; your roommate must’ve left the door unlocked when she went to hang out in the common area.
“Wasn’t feeling well,” you turn away from the wall, coming face to face with Semi as he squats in front of your bottom bunk - he’s got his guitar on his back, he probably hadn’t been by his room yet. He places the back of his hand on your cheeks, then your forehead.
“You’re not warm,” he hums, hand moving to the top of your head to pet your hair.
You smile softly, “Burn out, I think - I haven’t been getting enough sleep.” You moved back on your bed, giving him space to sit and lean against the headboard.
“You shouldn’t have come if you were tired,”
“Who’d tie your hair back, moron?”
“I would’ve worked it out.” Silence settles over the room, all that can be heard is your breathing.
Briefly, you ponder following Tendō’s advice - just saying ‘no’; you didn’t have to tell Semi that Manani wants to meet him on the roof tomorrow after school, you could just… keep quiet. Semi would never know.
No. It’s your job to relay messages to him. “There's a second-year that wants to talk with you tomorrow at lunch on the roof.”
“Oh yeah?” He reaches to the foot of your bed, picking up a blanket and spreading it across the two of you - you’d stolen it from his room one night, but never brought it back.
“Yeah,” you shift, leaning against his chest, “she’s cute - on the cheerleading team, too; the perfect fit for a volleyball player.” Maybe you could just stay like this - leaning against him, under his blanket on your bed; you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life like this, even if it was platonic.
“Alright, I’ll give her a shot.” Perfect.
He did not, in fact, give her a shot. You could tell he hadn’t when you saw her crying after classes in the washroom. Could he please, for the love of God, just give one girl a shot?
Another show, another night alone in a bar sipping on a drink while Semi and his bandmates perform. What’s unusual about tonight, though, is that no one has come to see the oracle. This is the first time since… well, since their first show ever that nobody had come to ask you about Semi. You keep glancing at every female Shiratorizawa student that passes by your table, expecting them to ask you about your best friend, but none of them do; it’s actually kind of nice.
“Folks,” Mori speaks into the mic, “we’ve got one song left for tonight, and someone’s insisting we perform a song he wrote for a friend,” he motions behind him towards Semi, as he looks to you, “for (L/n).”
Oh.
Hold on, Semi wrote a song for you and all you can think is ‘oh’? Yeah, that's about right. You can feel yourself burning up as people whoop, a few people from your school looking around to find you. Whether Semi’s face is red from embarrassment and surprise or solely the former, you couldn’t tell.
Semi inhales and exhales once before beginning, Mori coming in after a few seconds of strumming, but the others hold off still.
“I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along
Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms
When you're tossing, when you turn in your sleep
It's because I'm ghosting your dreams,”
It was familiar, but he’d stopped playing it for you ages ago. He’d played it while you were on the verge of sleep (only in your room, never in his); you’d fall asleep and he’d play a little longer, only leaving once your roommate was back to lock your door.
“He’s got this look in his eyes,” your roommate would say the following morning (perhaps in the middle of the night if you’d found it hard to sleep without Semi’s music), “this look like you’re the only person in the room.”
“That's because I am,” you’d reply, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
“Hey, would it be so bad if I stayed
I'm just a ghost out of his grave
And I can't make love in my grave
I won't put white into your hair
I won't make noises in your stairs
I will be kind and I'll be sweet
If you stop staring straight through me,”
You frown, sucking on your straw only for nothing to come out - he makes it sound like he’s a burden to have around - like you don’t need him. Remembering where you are, you put a smile back on your face before Semi can spot you. He does, moments after the change in your facial features, but he doesn’t have that look about him - the one that silently asks for your validation; he looks nervous, his nose is twitching the way it does when he’s on the verge of tears.
Somethings wrong.
“And this is why I have decided
To pull these old white sheets from my head
I'll leave them folded neat and tidy
So that you'll know I'm out of hiding,”
He hasn’t looked away from you yet, only glancing at his instrument every so often; it’s not that you don’t welcome the interaction, but you’re worried that looking away might trigger sobbing - weather from him or yourself, you aren’t quite sure.
It’s only now that you’re realizing the toll it’s taken on you, being the oracle; watching him reject girl after girl and building up your hope that he might actually love you back. There's this tightening in your throat as you continue to think about it; you’ve lost your fair share of sleep over it.
He grins, catching you off guard - while it’s wider than his usual one, it’s sincere. You worry for him too much.
“You don't need no Hallows Eve
You don't need treats
You don't need tricks
And you don't need me.”
What the hell is he on about? Of course you need Semi! To be quite honest, you think you need him more than you need water. Semi continues on a while longer, him and Akihiko finishing the song before Mori thanks the venue, the final round of applause sounding, but you can’t bring yourself to clap.
Despite your body begging you to climb into bed, you can’t. You need to talk to Semi, and it can’t wait until tomorrow. You had briefly departed from the pack of students entering Shiratorizawa’s campus, only so you wouldn’t be caught as one of the few who had snuck out.
But here you are - standing in front of his door, praying that his roommate is out so you can talk. One, two knocks, a pause, then a third.
There’s no answer.
You wait a few more minutes, but he’s not coming. You finally give in to your body's pleas, dragging yourself towards your dorm to get some rest. As always, your roommates in the common area, chatting away with friends - a lively wave is sent in response to your tired one as you pass her.
Your room isn’t as welcome a sight as it ought to be, serving more as a prison of thoughts than a place to relax. Why isn’t Semi back yet? What did that song mean? Did the song mean anything or am I just overthinking things? Those thoughts and similar ones swirl around you as you peel your clothes from the day off, opting for your more comfortable pyjamas - you could shower in the morning, it was the weekend tomorrow. You had time.
One, two knocks, a pause, then a third.
You freeze.
The knob turns (you’d started leaving your door unlocked when your roommate presented a habit of forgetting her keys). Semi’s standing there - he obviously dropped by his room based on the fact that there was no black guitar case slung over his shoulder.
“Sorry, I got held up signing in,” his voice is softer than usual, “can I come in?” You nod, pursing your lips and sitting on your bed, motioning for him to join you.
It’s cramped with the both of you attempting to sit up on your bed, he has to hunch over to keep his head from brushing the underside of the top bunk.
“Thank you,” you whisper, “for the song.” He swallows harshly, clearing his throat and refusing to meet your eyes.
“I’m working on another one - for you I mean,” he brings his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing at it, “I haven’t finished it, though; besides, I don’t have my guitar…”
“What did it mean?” You fiddle with the drawstring of your pants, “The one from tonight.”
He inhales and exhales, then repeats, and one more time for good measure. He takes your hand in both of his, turning it over and playing with your fingers. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.
“It means I wanna stop being a coward,” he chuckles breathlessly.
You hum encouragingly, letting him play with your hand to psych himself up. He's quiet for quite some time - you'd later come to know that he was very nearly ready to chicken out and tell you he was going to let Tendō give him a stick-n-poke.
His voice is uneven, cracking in some parts, and off-key in general;
“I wanna say I think it's okay if we just don't both feel the same way
But I feel like we're more than just friends.”
Semi peeks up at you, face beet red. You’re speechless.
“Could, um,” he clears his throat, “could you say something? Please?”
You blink, opening and closing your mouth a few times.
“So that’s why Mori’s on vocals…” Yeah, you’ve short-circuited. Semi chose to love a moron, apparently, because that's all you could come up with.
He blinks. You blink. He blinks. You blink.
Suddenly, your hand is poison - Semi winces, dropping it like it’s killing him. Fear is the only thing you can make out from his face; not the ‘holy-shit- my-life-is-in-danger’ type of fear, but the ‘I’ve-screwed-up-so badly-and-there's-no-coming-back’ type of fear - the helplessness that comes with rejection, the helplessness that paralyzes you so that your only movement is in ones widening eyes and the rapid rise and fall of the chest after they’ve scrambled as far back as they can; in Semi’s case, he was pushed up against your footboard, still attempting to push back every few minutes despite there being nowhere left for him to go, knees bent to keep himself flush against the bed frame. He almost looks like a cornered animal.
You snap out of it when you see his nose twitching, realizing that his eyes are darting around your form searching for any indication that he hadn’t completely screwed his life up. You dart forward, wrapping your arms around him (and accidentally getting kneed in your gut in the process).
It takes a few moments, but Semi’s arms wrap around you, pressing you into his chest. You can feel his breathing return to normal as his face nuzzles into your neck. His shoulders bounce as he lets out a shaky laugh, before he pulls away, flattening his legs to keep from kneeing your stomach any longer. You’re met with his radiant smile, any trace of fear gone from his features.
“Why me?” Because you genuinely can’t fathom it - never in your life could you understand why Semi would choose you over someone else.
“There's never been anyone else,” he says, palm coming to rest on your cheek, “how could there be?”
Sitting there, his arms wrapped around you, you realize something: Semi Eita isn’t Apollo - he's Orpheus. Orpheus isn’t perfect, but he’s attainable, he’s next to you; you’ve never been the oracle - you’ve always been Eurydice, and you just couldn’t see it.
He glances at your lips then back to your eyes, so quick you almost miss it (you actually almost miss it because you’re doing the same thing, but nobody needs to know that). His face is getting closer to yours by the second and it’s exhilarating.
His lips are upon yours, testing the waters before pulling back only to dive back in. His lips are soft, not unlike the kiss itself - it’s like you’re made of china, one wrong move from him and you’ll shatter. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone as your arms wrap themselves around the back of his neck. It’s perfect.
He’s perfect.
And he’s still perfect a month from now when you give him a good luck kiss before his show, and a congratulatory one afterwards, and every kiss after that.
Because who else could there be but Semi Eita - he had you wrapped around his finger, after all; his Eurydice.