Work Text:
"Ena, I can hear you breathing into your mic." Mizuki's voice floats over the Night Code app, snapping Ena out of her daze.
"You can't! I'm not even breathing that loud!"
"Yes you are~" Mizuki laughs, loud and bright. "Guys, was she?"
Ena glares at Mizuki's name in the voice call, hoping that they feel the stare. Sure, she may have been stuck on this sketch since the beginning of the meeting, but that's her own business. She opens her mouth to reply, but Mafuyu speaks.
"You were making very frustrated noises. Are you having problems drawing? You make these sounds whenever you are."
"I —" She looks down at her tablet. "Maybe. But you didn't have to say it like that!"
She's sure she isn't imagining the smugness in Mafuyu's usually monotone voice as she replies, "I knew it."
“You —” A soft chuckle interrupts the beginnings of Ena's annoyed reply and she falls silent, the furrow between her eyebrows relaxing at the sound of Kanade's laugh. The smaller girl rarely talks during their nightly banter, preferring to listen, but Ena's learned to listen out for her amused reactions at her teammates’ antics. They're always soft and short, and Ena tries her best to make Kanade laugh at least once a meeting. The sound lifts her lips into a smile and warms her chest, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Quickly, she huffs a "Whatever" and turns back to her drawing, smile still on her face. But as her attention goes back to the sketch, it slowly slips off until she's frowning again. She’s been in an art slump for the past few days, erasing and redoing the sketch for their next song again and again, but nothing seemed right. Right before tonight’s meeting started, she had a sudden wave of inspiration, but it left as suddenly as it came, leaving her with a sketch she’s unsatisfied with.
And as much as her friends can joke about it, it doesn't take her mind off the fact that she has to finish this. Ena purses her lips tightly and goes back to work.
As she sets stylus to tablet, the sounds of her friends fill her ears: keyboard tapping, mouse clicking, and the occasional sigh, sounds she's gotten used to after countless nights spent exactly like this. Even if she would never say it out loud, 25-ji means so much more to her than making music together.
In a way, the only reason she was able to meet this group of people that she's grown to care deeply about is Kanade. She’s grateful for Kanade for multiple other things, too — for recognising her art when no one else did, for giving her the push to keep drawing, for making her feel less alone. She admired Kanade for her musical talent even before joining 25-ji, and now she admires her for her drive, endless patience, and kindness.
Even as she thinks about Kanade, about the way her eyes scrunch up as she smiles and how her head tilts when she's confused, Ena’s hands itch to draw her, to paint her over and over again. She wants to show Kanade how Ena sees her, free from the suffocating guilt that shadows her eyes.
Ena blinks, realising that she's been subconsciously doodling long hair falling over narrow eyes. What is she doing? Who is she, a lovesick teenager who draws her crush in the margins of her notebook during classes? Ena scoffs and shakes her head. Slightly embarrassed at herself, she quickly hides the layer and goes back to the actual drawing.
Some small talk is exchanged; Kanade asks Mafuyu for an update on her lyrics, Mizuki excitedly shows everyone a cool animation they managed to pull off, talks a little about the clothes they bought that day, and compliments Mafuyu's lyrics. Ena glances them over — perfect, as always — and offers some of her own, far too occupied to give further comments.
After a while, Mafuyu clears her throat. "I have to wake up early for archery practice tomorrow. Good night, everyone."
"I think I'm going to leave too! Goodnight~" Mizuki chimes in.
Ena mumbles a distracted goodbye to both of them, still focused on her sketch. It doesn't look right at all, and in the relative silence after Mafuyu and Mizuki left, there's no background noise to take her mind off how bad it is. The vision she had for it was a tree, with its roots cradling a birdcage containing a trapped bird, but the lines she draws tangle together until it’s nothing but an incoherent mess.
No matter how many times she erases and redraws, opens and deletes layers, the roots of the tree and the bars of the cage blend together annoyingly. And the more she redraws, the higher her frustration at herself grows, blurring her vision with unshed tears.
"I can’t do this!"
In a fit of anger, she slams her drawing pen onto the table, shoving her tablet away. It slides only a little distance due to its size, and Ena glares at the screen and the disgrace of a drawing on it. It glows on her screen balefully, reminding Ena of all the things that's wrong with it.
It's silent for a moment. Dimly, Ena realises that the background sound of Kanade's keyboard has stopped.
"Enanan?"
Warmth spreads across Ena's face as quickly as the anger leaving her body. "Uh… K."
"You were unmuted."
"I guess I was." Embarrassed, Ena reaches for her pen again and pulls the tablet back towards her. She swipes away the tears from her eyes, sits up in her chair and adds a random line onto the sketch, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks. Usually when Ena forgets to mute, it's always Mizuki teasing her with light jabs and loud snickers, nothing like the quiet words from Kanade. She tells herself the difference is why her face feels like it's on fire. "I'm fine."
Ena stares at the sketch, all too aware of the silence between them, willing the sound of Kanade's keyboard to start again. But it doesn't, because nothing ever goes her way.
"Are you alright?"
Her grip on her tablet tightens, the metal warming under her fingers. "I'm fine," she repeats. She can still feel how hot her face is, and some part of her hates how strongly she's reacting.
The silence stretches on while Ena stubbornly refuses to reply. Then, after what feels like an eternity, there's some shuffling on Kanade's end before she says, "Okay. I'll be here if you want to talk."
Kanade starts typing on her keyboard again, and Ena allows herself to let out a long breath, her body slumping down in her seat as her shoulders relax. They fall back into silence, broken only by the sound of Kanade's mouse clicking and occasional humming. Ena tries to go back to her art, but frustration keeps bubbling up too quickly, and any progress she makes is quickly erased.
Kanade’s offer of help from before echoes in her ears. It's irrational, how she just refused to tell her friend about a simple art block when they've seen and heard Ena groan, complain, and yell through countless others, but something about the thought of admitting that to Kanade out loud makes Ena’s heart speed up uncomfortably.
After a while, she releases the tight grip on her drawing pen to rub at her eyes.
She’s being pathetic, she decides; since when was she such a coward? She, who stood up to her father for years and fought back tears until she could cry in the solitude of her room, who kept drawing even when the world and her own insecurities were against her?
Her hand tightens into a fist and falls onto her lap. Ena looses a long sigh. “K?"
"Mm."
"How do you come up with ideas for songs?"
"Huh… that's a good question. I guess you could say the ideas come to me, more than I come up with them," Kanade replies.
"I mean, do you take inspiration from anything?" Ena asks, already setting aside her tablet and propping her chin on an arm, content to listen to her speak.
"Yeah, I listen to plenty of songs. Sometimes I take bits from a song I’ve heard recently. Maybe a section of the melody, or a chord progression.” Kanade’s voice becomes more faraway as she thinks. “A while ago, my housekeeper was humming a song that turned out to be one for her band. Don’t tell her, but I snuck part of the song into the one I’m writing right now.”
Kanade huffs in amusement, but Ena doesn't hear it. Of course Kanade would have other friends — it’s not even the first time she’s mentioned her housekeeper, yet Ena struggles to tamp down the anger bubbling in her chest.
She swallows away the bitter feeling in her mouth. "Maybe I should go plagiarise Picasso, then,” she jokes lamely.
“Your paintings are better than that,” Kanade says almost immediately, and Ena blinks, an instinctive denial forming on her lips, but catches herself.
“Ah… thanks.” Her voice comes out slightly strained as she tugs at the sleeves of her shirt nervously. “You’re too nice, K.”
“It’s the truth,” Kanade replies, and though Ena knows deep down that it isn’t, allowing herself to believe it feels better, so she does. Right now, late at night with only the two of them on call, she can pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist; that her problems can vanish like words on the wind.
“And also, about my inspiration, I don't know… it's kind of like the music… speaks to me? It sounds silly, I know.”
Of course you wouldn't know, you have talent, she thinks bitterly, but holds her tongue. Kanade doesn't deserve to be on the receiving end of her harsh words just because Ena doesn't know how to moderate her emotions.
“No, that’s… that’s really cool. I wish I could do that, but I’m stuck,” she sighs, glancing at her tablet. “Everything I draw just looks awful. I’ve erased and redone this sketch so many times.” Frustration tints her voice before she can control it.
“I think you should take a break, Enanan. We don’t need the illustrations that soon,” Kanade says, and the concern in her voice makes Ena’s heart leap, even as she frowns in mock indignation.
"I already take more breaks than you!"
Kanade’s answering giggle is clear and light and Ena closes her eyes, soaking in the happiness of it. Often, all she hears from Kanade during their nightly meetings is her soft, whispery voice, with an undertone of anxiety frequently present. Moments like these are rare, and Ena wishes she could be the one to paint her with joy.
“No, I’m serious. Don’t stress yourself too much. Painting is harder than composing, isn’t it?” Kanade asks mildly. “Your art is always so gorgeous, you paint so well.”
“No!” Ena surprises herself with the intensity in her response. “I just draw things, you — you save people, you do so much more than me.”
“I haven’t saved anyone.”
“Huh?” Ena doesn’t hear herself over the stone that drops into her stomach.
Kanade is silent for a long time, and when she speaks again, it's softer. "To save people… you need to know what they want to be saved from."
The words strike somewhere deep in her. "Like that time you wrote that song for me?"
For a moment, she's back in the Sekai, her heart trying to claw its way out of her chest as her head echoes with voices. Her eyes are dry from crying and sore with how much she's been rubbing at them, her throat dry from screaming at the world that won't let her be happy.
Kanade's whispered reply pulls her back from her memories. "...It saved you?"
"I… yeah. I guess you could say it did," she replies in an equally soft whisper. The words are hard to get out around the sudden lump in her throat and she swallows it down, forces herself to blink until her vision clears.
(She still remembers how the song came to her from a distance, wordless yet speaking to her. It was cold and lonely and oh, it hurt, but after screaming herself hoarse to try to make her heart numb, the stabbing pain was welcome. And she knew this song, even if she’d never heard it before —
It was Kanade’s song that she followed, all the way back to Rin and her friends.)
“I see… I’m glad, Ena.” She can hear Kanade’s smile, and a weight seems to lift from her chest as she continues, “I care about you a lot.”
Ena stiffens, breath hitching. She can’t be mistaking the affection in Kanade’s voice. Her heart squeezes, threatening to burst. "I care about you too, Kanade," she says, and puts every bit of emotion into the words. "So much."
“Thank you for being here with me. I…” Kanade’s voice falters. “...Never mind. I forgot what I was about to say.”
This tender moment between them hangs suspended in the air, threatening to shatter at any moment. For a second, Ena imagines Kanade telling her the words she's always wanted to hear. To confess her feelings, and allow Ena to confess her own in turn. The idea, which seemed so far-fetched a mere hour ago, is now suddenly so close to reality. Heart pounding, Ena is about to open her mouth to ask further when Kanade speaks again.
"I'll be logging off for the night. Thanks for the talk, Enanan." Kanade sounds like she's still smiling as she says it.
The moment breaks, and panic grips Ena's chest. Tell her. Tell her. Now.
"Wait!" The word bursts out without her even realising.
There's a short rustling from Kanade's end; she must have bumped into her mic. "Yes?"
Now that Kanade's listening, Ena's suddenly overwhelmed with fear. Her heart is in her throat, fluttering rapidly and blocking any words from forming. Slowly, she tries to swallow, but her throat is dry.
“Ena? Did you want to say something?” Kanade asks, which does nothing to calm her down.
Ena’s head is spinning; surely the past few minutes must have meant something. Could Kanade ever like her back? She could, right? Why else would she have sounded so… so like how Ena herself sounds when she talks to her?
Her heart is thudding so loudly she’s surprised Kanade can’t hear it. The tension between them is so thick she could cut it with a knife, the silence pressing in on her and she knows she needs to say something, anything, but —
She can’t.
"Nothing. I just — wanted to say goodnight." She regrets the words the moment they leave her mouth.
"Oh." Is she imagining it, or does she hear disappointment in Kanade's voice? "Goodnight, Ena."
Ena feels her mouth move against her will as she replies, "Goodnight, Kanade."
Then she's gone, and Ena stares at the Night Code app, still reeling with adrenaline. Kanade's icon blinks to a faded grey as she goes offline.
"Damn it!" she shouts, and reaches for the closest thing - a stuffed dinosaur - and hurls it across the room. It hits the door and tumbles to the floor unceremoniously, just like how Ena's heart feels at that moment.
Ena leans forward to bury her face into her hands, groaning. She had the chance. And she blew it.
She’s a coward. Always has been.
Angry tears sting her eyes and without thinking, another stuffed toy flies across the room and collides with her wall. This time, the tears fall, streaking down her temples and into her hair as Ena leans back to lie onto her mattress, throwing an arm across her face to muffle a sob.
Who is she, to think she has a chance when she doesn’t even have the courage to express her feelings? When Kanade is so, so much better, more talented, more deserving? Why would she even want Ena, with her defensiveness and insecurities and how she's just not good enough —
The thoughts wrap cold hands around her throat until she's choking, gasping for air between sobs. Her arm is wet with tears but she can't bring herself to move. She wants someone to take away her feelings, remove the churning in her stomach and the burning in her throat. She wants to scream, but it’s 4 am, so all she can do is cry into the solitude of her room once again.
Suddenly, her computer pings. After a long moment of consideration, Ena groans and decides to lift her arm off her eyes to squint at the screen.
It's a notification from Kanade.
Too busy wallowing in self-pity, she'd missed the notification of Kanade coming online. It's almost funny how quickly she reacts, as if she'd never been crying to begin with. She bolts over to her computer in an instant, stumbling over her chair in her haste to read the message. After steadying herself, she grabs her mouse and clicks on the private chat.
Hi, Enanan. I can see you're still online, so here's a short clip of something I just wrote on a whim for you. Hope it helps with your drawing.
Ena reads the message, then again, then again.
Then she puts on her headphones, pulls her chair back towards her desk, and presses play.
Music floods her ears. The song is evidently unpolished by Kanade’s standards, but Ena listens to how the clear melody flows over a discordant chord accompaniment, her eyes closing in sheer awe. In a few seconds, the scene of a calm river running over jagged rocks forms in her mind. As the song progresses and the chords begin to turn mellow, the river erodes the rocks, smoothing out the sharpened ridges.
And she knew this already, but like this, their similarities are more apparent than ever.
Just like Ena draws in pencil and paint, Kanade draws in chords and melodies.
The song ends, and Ena pictures Kanade in her room, with her legs folded on her chair, bent over her screen with her hair falling around her face. The wave of fondness that washes over her is both welcome and not, but Ena is nothing if not good at riding emotions, letting a smile touch her lips as she reaches for her drawing tablet.
Kanade reminds her of the sea. Her deep blue eyes, her long white hair that mimics seafoam, the endless depths of her pain and kindness. Ena is a raft caught in her currents, unable to do anything but to be helplessly tugged along. She weaves through the ocean, riding over waves of emotion — happiness, anger, jealousy — leaving her reeling and panting. She is but a leaf swept along the tides of Kanade's laughs, hanging onto her every word and action, captivated by her mere existence.
Briefly, Ena wonders if Kanade finds the same solace in her own smile. The idea is so ridiculous that she can’t help but laugh at herself, the same way she used to laugh at herself for thinking she could ever be good at art.
When the sarcastic laughter dissipates into the air, all she's left with is her tablet and the sketch still glaring at her.
Her tablet, the sketch… and Kanade's song. The song that she wrote for her. Kanade only ever writes songs for people, never herself, always so focused on helping and helping. The idea that she wrote a song just for Ena, to cheer her up after her art block… Suddenly, there’s tears in her eyes again, and she surprises herself with another laugh.
“God, Kanade, what are you doing to me?” she asks into the emptiness of her room.
No one answers, so she wipes her tears and fixes her hair, which is tangled from the emotional scramble just now. Her heart is still hammering in her chest, both from the crying and shock. Desperate to calm herself down, she takes a long drink of water and leans back in her chair, sighing. Perhaps another time, she will finally tell Kanade how she truly feels. But for now, she remains a coward.
She sits up, hits replay on the file that Kanade sent her, and goes to work on a new drawing, praying for the tides of emotion to recede.