Chapter Text
i. instagram
With her thumb, Rika double tapped the photo on her screen. She barely gazed at it before her mouth twisted into a mean scowl. The heart glowed and faded in half a second, adding to the ‘like count’. A double tap was essentially a shot to the heart.
Drop dead, bitch.
Except Rika was sure that when Rie Hanano sees the ‘riririka-rin’ handle in the scramble of usernames, her head would be overblown with a jolt of dopamine.
‘Wow, what a supportive former band mate,' she might’ve said.
Nah.
Rika wished that the Wi-Fi towers pierced bitches that showed off their accomplishments–because shit, Rika was a washed-up idol at the ripe age of fourteen. How goddamn lame. There was nothing she could show off. Pride was something she had, but didn’t deserve. All she could really do was wish harm to the girls that mocked her through a screen. Her words carried drastic consequences, and words tended to slip out her mouth faster than she could count.
But wishing harm was not the same thing as causing harm. She’d done enough of that in her lifetime. Her existence pretty much proved that.
Double tapping could be her weapon. Tap, tap and the end of that heart would soar across the Internet streams. Fly through that phone screen. Then stab. Victim dead. No one would know who the killer was.
Wow, how powerful. How cool?
How screwed up.
The phone that lay in her palm was her enemy. Rika hated the way it dragged out bitter emotions from her. She let a six-inch screen mess up her morning. Actually, scratch that – it made her morning worse.
Rika stood on the Yamanote line, one step away from that strip of yellow. Dirt etched her soles as she tapped her toes on beat to Western rock music. Not long ago her ear buds were filled with disjointed pop music. But that was a year prior. She unliked every song, unfollowed every idol. Each high-pitched voice was a leech that threatened her to face her past.
She hated herself–no, she loved herself. Rika was pretty, just like her mother. Cute, like what her last name dictated. She was cool too, different. What kid wore a choker and a jacket when it was stupid hot outside? Definitely not the girls beside her. They were busy taking selfies, wearing their girly long skirts and stylish tops. For sure they’d bought it from those expensive boutiques in Shibuya 109. Rika wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them. (She couldn’t afford it.)
Rika squinted her eyes at the photo, instantly wishing she scrolled past it.
Rie Hanano was all smiles, her short hair, long now. Hands were thrown up in peace signs as she held contract papers. Nice, she got into a big entertainment company in Korea. Big whoop. She’d be the foreign member. When Rie was in All-Out Kiss with Rika, she was the weakest vocalist but atleast she could dance. That was her only redeeming quality, besides her stupid grin.
A forced smile cracked through Rika's lips. Closing instagram, she thought once again: Drop dead, bitch.
The train rumbled onto the tracks–a belching beast that could snuff out a person’s life in a second. Let blood splatter all over the windows. Rika’s skinny, little body would become mush. She laughed at the image.
I am so messed up.
She changed the song that played in her ears, went straight to All-Out Kiss ’s ‘Life is Lovely’ track. The only idol song she kept. Synths ring, hi-hats clang. Her own voice, high and melodic, was too adorable, singing lyrics on how sweet it is to be alive. As long as you had love, right? Rika’s body moved in mock imitation, she waved her arms in small movements. That dance was still muscle memory to her.
With a smooth halt, the train stopped. As she moved forward, ready to cross the threshold, she paused.
Outside her earbuds, the song seemed to come alive, sung by a girl with an identical tone. Her voice, an echo throughout the station that blared through the speakers. Rika turned in the direction.
Rika Kawai of All-Out Kiss!
What the hell was she doing here?
There’s that hair in a pink shade which had ruined her strands, fixed up in twin tails that bounced with each dance step. Her poofy dress, so opposite of Rika’s boyish attire, looked like an ugly loofa. Sure. It was cute at one point. Faux Rika’s smile was so bright, her eyes glowed with brand new life. She twirled backwards towards the tracks, like a butterfly taking flight, about to pass that yellow line. Faux Rika took a final glance behind her. A mild look of horror developed in her expression. Her heels were no longer touching the surface.
But she continued to sing:
"Life is so lovely. Life is so lovely when I’m with you. Sparkles, and rainbows with cute roses too."
Faux Rika bared her canines. Laughter filled the air. Lifting her arms, jumping high...she –
Splat.
A pretty girl died.
Another way Rika could go out. If she had the balls to.
Rika blew out her bangs, her inner arm throbbed to get a taste from her razor.
“Doors will be closing.”
Rika hopped into the train and chose a seat, as her feet tapped to her tune. Instagram opened up on her phone again, and she was at it–choosing one carefully filtered selfie out of the grid of beautiful Rika faces.
‘What a lovely day! #lifeisgood #staysweet’ Filtered Rika grinned with her tongue out.
“Perfect,” she whispered. Rika hit the post button, deadening her screen as she waited for her selfie to be flooded with likes.
And hopefully, with every like:
A shot to her heart.