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In her dreams, Fumi’s a teenager again. Her wings lift her up higher as she laughs, carefree and easy as she soars through the sky. Her wings are close to white, tinted green. Below her, but catching up, are wings of lavender, pink, and baby blue.
Above her are platinum-white wings with matching hair flowing in the wind. Her soul aches and her pride demands that she catch up to her, that she surpass her. She gets closer, close enough to see the expression of pride and glee and joy on the other girl’s face. Catch me if you can, it says. She goes higher, and Fumi follows.
She doesn’t know how long it goes on, but it was bliss. Sometimes the other angels get close to her heels, and she’ll fly higher than them. Her heart feels light as a feather. She only wishes there was someone else here, but for now, she trusts the platinum angel to push her higher.
At some point, her wings start to burn. They fail her, and she sees lavender, pink, and blue pass her without a second thought. Before her wings fall apart, she sees a small figure, a mirror image of of her flying higher than she could ever go, and Fumi’s wings dissolve under the scorching sun and she’s reaching the ground faster and faster until—
Those dreams end up with her in a cold sweat. This particular day marks the five year anniversary of Yumeoji Fumi’s departure from the stage.
Shiori calls her, sometimes. Asks how she’s doing. There’s a familiar gnawing in Fumi’s stomach. Shiori’s an up and coming actress at twenty, and here her older sister is, working at a hole-in-the-wall music store giving piano lessons to kids who couldn’t care less and still living in the same apartment that she’s had since she was seventeen.
She regrets leaving Seigfeld sometimes. She had the opportunity to stand on stage again with the small group that was the Performance Department asking her for help. One practice, Fumi had offered. It hurt too much to be on stage. It felt dirty. It wasn’t until she was graduating that it hit her: not the shock of adulthood (she’d gotten too used to that), but the realization that she’s wasted all of this time that she could’ve spent not wallowing in her own self-pity.
It’s a miracle Shiori still talks to her, really.
They meet up for tea whenever Shiori’s free. It was awkward for a time after Shiori’s graduation and Fumi’s breakdown, finally telling the truth of her disappearance years later, but their relationship’s recovered and it's one of the few regrets Fumi can lay to rest.
“There’s an audition for Carmen at the theatre I work for.” Shiori says, and Fumi internally groans. Shiori used to be subtle about her attempts to bring her back to the stage, but now she’s not even trying to hide it.
“That’s great, I hope you get whatever role you’re trying for.” Fumi takes a sip of her tea. She frowns, finding it slightly colder than she’d like.
“I’m not going to audition.” Shiori shakes her head. “I’m taking a small break after Wicked.”
“You, taking a break?” Fumi mock gasps. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
“Hey, I get it from you, you know.” Shiori snorts. “But Yachiyo insisted. I pushed myself a little too hard during our performances, and now she’s making me rest.”
“You two are so domestic, it’s sweet.” Fumi smiles. She’s long stopped being jealous of her sister’s accomplishments. She’s proud of how far Shiori’s come. She only regrets not being able to catch up.
“I think you should try auditioning.” Shiori finally says.
“It’s been over five years since I’ve even breathed near a script.” Fumi points out.
“Liar.” Shiori crosses her arms. “Remember when we had a sleepover a few weeks ago? I heard you reciting Elysion. In your sleep, no less.”
Fumi curses.
“If you really didn’t want to be on stage again, I’ll drop it.” Shiori softens, reaching out for Fumi’s hand. “But I know you, and I know you do. This isn’t me clinging to some childhood promise, at least not entirely. I just… want to see you happy doing the thing you love.”
Fumi gulps. Her throat feels tight, and she struggles to breathe. Shiori’s grown so much, and Fumi’s endlessly proud of how much she’s come. Fumi makes a decision. Makes another promise to Shiori. She will no longer let the past haunt her.
Days later, at the audition, her past haunts her. Specifically, a platinum-haired woman-shaped past. Fumi thinks Shiori has something to do with this. Her sister’s taken after her more than she’d realized.
That, or the universe was laughing at her. Probably both.
“Yumeoji-san.” Akira greets, and it isn’t the same cold frigid-ness of Frau Platin. Of course it isn’t, Akira hasn’t been Frau Platin in years, Fumi realizes belatedly. Still, there’s an unmistakable bewilderment in Akira’s voice. Maybe just a touch of coldness.
“Akira.” Fumi returns simply. She’s not going to play this game with Akira right now, so she addresses her the same way she did when they were back in Seigfeld. She can’t spare the energy to be melancholy right now, not when she’d promised Shiori she’d give her all into her acting again.
Akira purses her lips. A telltale sign that she’s caught off guard. Fumi allows herself a sliver of a smile. She’d never say it out loud, but she appreciates the fact Akira hasn’t changed much. In many ways, still the proud king she knows. She wonders about all the ways Akira has changed, though. She’s eager to find out.
There’s a natural tension in their auditions. Fumi can feel Akira’s stare on hers, and somehow she knows what each means. The flow was good. Pause there, then emphasize the next word. Exaggerate your movements more. Immerse yourself in your role. All of these things come back to Fumi as easy as breathing.
Akira’s acting is better than it was years ago. Not surprising to see, but a shock nonetheless. Her flaw, minimized, her strengths on display. Fumi nitpicks. She must retrain her eyes to spot the flaws so she can improve on them. Akira’s good at many roles, but there are a few she struggles with. Fumi’s surprised when the role of the tragic lovesick fool left behind is one of them.
Fumi gets a callback later. She finds out through Shiori that so has Akira.
“Carmen and Don José?” Fumi looks over the script handed to her, then to Akira, who looked like a deer in headlights.
“From your auditions, we think you two would have great chemistry.” The stage director says, handing the two a short piece of dialogue. “Here, try these lines.”
“Right…” Fumi quickly glances to Akira, who’s staring at the piece of paper as if it held the answers to get out of whatever situation they were in. Fumi took a deep breath. “Where are you taking me?”
“To prison, and there’s nothing I can do.” Akira’s lovesick fool comes out, tweaked to fit the scene more. She turns away from Fumi, but she can tell there’s a sense of frustration and annoyance at herself, one that shows a story of a man whose thoughts have betrayed him. He tries to hide it under an icy exterior. She can incorporate that into the act.
“Really?” Fumi purrs, a raised brow and a hint of a smirk accompanying it. “You can’t do anything?”
“No, nothing. I obey my superiors.” Interesting. Akira’s gone with a rigid, moral Jose led away by Carmen despite his best attempts not to.
Fumi takes a quick glance at the script again before continuing. “Very well...” Fumi sighs, acting resigned. It makes Akira turn back to her questioningly. Exactly what she wanted. “But I know that in spite of your superiors, you’ll do anything and everything I want because you love me.” She says this like she would about the color of the sky being blue or water being wet.
“I love you?” Akira guffaws in disbelief. “How could I love someone who callously throws away the hearts she’s stolen?
“Stolen?” Fumi echoes. She must be extremely rusty if Akira’s ad-lib had caught her off guard. It gets harder to stay in character. Akira’s lines feel too raw for an audition. “I’ve stolen nothing, they gave it to me willingly. Is it my fault if I do not reciprocate?”
“It is when you toy with them before breaking them.” Akira gives her a glare, one that softens a touch. A flash of emotion comes through with it; happiness or pride or something akin to that. Fumi doesn’t know how to feel about it.
“You seem like you don’t mind your heart being toyed, though.” Fumi responds with a smug smile. She hopes the rustiness in her acting doesn’t show because it gets on her own nerves. “You’ve kept the flower, haven’t you?” A well timed expression of shock from Akira. “Well, that look tells me all I need to know. Whether you throw it away now doesn’t matter since you’re already under my spell.”
Fumi reaches out, caresses Akira’s shoulder. She violently shrugs it off, taking a step back away from Fumi. “Don’t talk to me anymore, you hear me?” Akira snarls. “Say no more, I forbid it!”
They stare at each other for a moment before Don José’s angry exterior drops, showing a mildly bashful Akira. Fumi relaxes as well, her shoulder falling.
“That was great, you two!” The director applauds. “Carmen and Don José had the perfect chemistry, though there were some moments that were a little weak. The ad-libs were great too!”
“Thank you.” Akira bows politely. “I was afraid that my partner was caught too off guard for a moment, but I’m glad to see that it went smoothly.”
“I just had an idea and went with it.” Fumi gives a small chuckle. “I mostly bounced off whatever Akira did.”
“That’s the point, though, since while Carmen is a force of nature, José is the focal point.” Akira nods. “We still make a great team.”
Fuck. Those words were something she didn’t expect from Akira. An ad-lib to what she thought Akira’s script would say.
“You two have acted together before?” The director asks, and Fumi speaks up before Akira can say more.
“We went to the same high school for a bit before I moved.” Fumi explains, looking at Akira. “I’m surprised we worked as well as we did considering we haven’t performed together in years.”
“Well, regardless, that was amazing.” The director writes something down on his clipboard before beaming up at the two. “You two are amazing together.”
“Thanks.” Fumi and Akira say in unison, looking away from each other. Playing the roles of lovers with your ex has a way of making things awkward.
“I don’t hate you.” Akira says during one of their practices. They’re still awkward for the most part, but there are moments where one of them will strike up a conversation that leads into nothingness that will last for hours.
“Thanks?” Fumi responds. She isn’t sure why Akira felt the need to tell her this.
“I used to,” Akira admits. “You left Siegfeld behind, and we had to cope. It took a while, but I was able to accept that you probably left for a good reason.”
“Shiori told you.” Fumi states.
“She did,” Akira nods. She hesitates, before putting a firm hand on Fumi’s shoulder. It’s the most contact they’ve had outside of practices. “I’m sorry for not being able to do more.”
Fumi hadn’t expected this. “You— you don’t need to apologize for anything, I was the one who left.”
Akira shakes her head. “I know, but I failed you as a king, and as a partner. I didn’t realize I was still holding onto that resentment of you until I felt it bleed out into my acting. I should’ve been over your disappearance all these years later, especially since I know the reason why you left.
“Well, you’re forgiven, not that there was much to apologize about.” Fumi gives Akira a small smile. “It’s perfectly normal to still feel upset, especially since…”
“You ghosted me.” Akira said plainly.
“Not my proudest moment. Also, I’m surprised you know what that means.”
“Yachiyo.”
“That sounds about right.” Fumi chuckles. “In any case, I don’t hold it against you at all. In fact, it fits your character.”
“I suppose that’s what happens when you connect too much to your role.” Akira gives Fumi her signature awkward smile.
“You’re ridiculous.” Fumi shakes her head, smiling. “Only being able to communicate through the stage.”
“Isn’t that the case with most of us?”
“True.” Fumi shrugs. “Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing. Someplace to express myself.”
“Perhaps.” Akira holds her hand out to Fumi. “I think we can work on that, though. Together.”
“Shiori, I’m screwed.” Fumi groans into her hands. She cannot believe the situation she’s in right now.
Shiori has that smug look that reminds her all too much of Yachiyo, and she groans knowing exactly what’s going to come out of Shiori’s mouth.
“Do not.” Fumi hisses through gritted teeth. Yachiyo’s good for Shiori, Fumi has to remind herself. Otherwise, she might try and strangle the up and coming fashionista. “I’m still coping with the realization that I’ve caught feelings for Akira. Again.
“Is it really that bad?” Shiori gives a slightly more sympathetic smile. “From what I’ve heard, you two have been getting along pretty well.”
“Yes, but there’s a difference between repairing our friendship and our former relationship.” Fumi drums her fingers on the table. “As much as I hate to say it, I like having her around.”
“Aw, onee-chan! That’s the kindest you’ve ever spoken about anyone!” Shiori coos.
“The sass was unnecessary.”
“I disagree.” Her sister laughs, making Fumi crack her own smile. She loves seeing her sister confident in her own skin, loves being on equal ground with her. Fumi’s all but forgotten about the pedestal Shiori used to place her on. “But I digress.”
Fumi internally groans. She’d much rather focus on the relationship she’s already repaired rather than the one that she can push further. “Who’s to say Akira even feels the same? It’s been years since we’ve even talked.”
“I can call up Michiru—”
“I think that might be worse than bringing Yachiyo into this.” Fumi dragged her hand down her face. Yachiyos smugness, she can tolerate, but Michiru is something else. “Plus, dragging her into this would also mean dragging Mei Fan in as well, and she isn’t exactly the definition of subtlety.”
“Good point.” Shiori grimaces. “Still…”
“I’ll… deal with it.” Fumi says hesitantly. “Somehow.”
The artificial stars above Akira and Fumi certainly helped set the scene. It was the first time they had seen the set and the first time they were performing on top of the stage. They were only halfway through rehearsals, but Fumi was tired. High on nerves and adrenaline, yes, but somehow tired.
“Water.” Akira hands her a bottle of water.
“Thanks.” Fumi thanks her.
A comfortable silence fell between the two. They idly watched the other actors and stagehands lounge around, either waiting until their break was over or already setting up for the next scene. The combined presence of Akira and Fumi made the others hesitant to talk to them, but they did get a few compliments for their performances. Fumi mentally patted herself on the back.
“We don’t talk outside of the stage.” Akira says after a while.
“We never really did, even when we were younger.” Fumi points out.
Akira turns to Fumi. “I want to change that.”
Fumi blinks. “What?”
“I’ve wanted to try this new coffee place downtown for a while.” Akira gives a small, awkward grin. “I was going to go with Michiru, but she was busy. As were Yachiyo, Mei Fan, and Shiori.”
That sly little—
“And you didn’t have any other friends to ask?” Fumi raises a brow.
“None that I’d rather go with.”
“Almost sounds like you enjoy my company.”
“I always did.” Akira turns away. She clears her throat. “Anyways, if you’d like to, ah, hang out, or perhaps something more akin to—”
“I can’t believe you beat me to it.” Fumi smiles. “I’d love to go on a date with you.
Fumi’s going to strangle her sister later, but considering she helped her get a date with Akira, maybe she’ll get her that luxury Uva blend before she does.