Chapter Text
The song blaring through her headphones wasn’t enough to tame her mind tonight.
A chill came over her body like a wave as she recalled the sound of the girl’s voice. It was sweet, like dew dripping off a budding flower yet powerful enough to hold a grip on her heart; her heart hadn’t stopped pounding in the hours she’d lain here, sinking into her mattress in only her own company. Kohane’s voice had resonated with her own, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she’d felt the itching desire to break out in song alongside her—and she had.
With Kohane, she was going to surpass RAD WEEKEND. There was no reason she would’ve wandered into WEEKEND GARAGE otherwise, except for something along the lines of fate, surely. An never found herself terribly interested in superstitions, but something about meeting Kohane felt right. It was the only reason she’d let her impulses win, asking Kohane to perform with her as her partner.
She’d finally found her, as she’d shouted rather impulsively to the timid girl. She’d finally found that spark that she thought she’d lost since her fingers traced over Haruka’s for the last time.
She sat upward, bringing her knees to her chest. “Still can’t get her out of your mind, huh?” An shook her head, her soft chuckling directed at her own foolishness. Of course. Not a night passed where she didn’t find her heart stretching toward her childhood best friend, the girl she formerly loved—No, the girl she still loved. She would reach out toward the ceiling with her hand, palm outstretched, grasping at what was only the air. Did Haruka ever reach for her touch in return?
Millions of people looked at the same sea of stars every night. Even if they were thousands of miles apart, they all shared the same view, the same connection. An traced her fingers over the star clips in her hair, yanking one down from her own starry sky. It was certainly silly that she still wore the clips for that reason, and she knew that. It was silly that she was still grasping at memories that she could never have back. She also knew that. It didn’t stop her from wishing Haruka was at her side now, running her fingers gently through her own raven locks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and securing it with the very clip she was holding.
“I thought I was done missing you. Turns out that wasn’t the case, but...” she spoke not to the sky, not to herself, but to the clip in her palm, “...I think I know how to move on. No, I have to move on. I’m sorry for keeping you here with me all this time!” An unfastened the remaining clips from her hair, setting them neatly on her bedside table, one by one. She lets the music play through her headphones, even if the sound isn’t loud enough to quiet her mind; she was much too excited she’d found the partner she’d been searching for since she determined her dream to surpass RAD WEEKEND all those years ago.
An would be lucky to get a wink of sleep.
Business was unusually slow this afternoon, not that An minded, considering her father had run out to the shops for more coffee beans, leaving herself in charge of WEEKEND GARAGE. Admittedly, she found it rather difficult to keep her eyelids from fluttering closed as she slouched against the counter. The bell in the doorway had been the only savior in keeping herself awake and alert.
Customers always had the same questions for her; at least, the regulars did. One older couple came in at least once a week and sat at the booth in the corner, the woman bombarding her with the same questions and remarks every week asking whether she’d found a partner yet, and when An inevitably shook her head, would tell her to “keep her head high” because “the right person will come along eventually.” Her husband would take her hand in his own, and An only assumed that the two must have had some romantic “love at first sight” kind of meeting most girls her age could only dream of. An could only laugh along awkwardly with them. However, this week, she was able to proudly proclaim that she had, in fact, finally found a partner. Not just any partner—the perfect partner. The old woman had grinned at her, expressing her pride and wishing her only the best of luck. In the moment, An hardly felt like she needed the luck. Meeting Kohane was fate, and fate always had some strange way of working out, at least when it came to anything outside of the realm of love, in her own experience. Maybe Haruka just wasn’t part of that “fate” business.
A group of men around her father’s age, most likely on their lunch break (as she’d assumed by their attire) trickled out the entrance, leaving the shop completely empty. An let out a groan, untying her apron and returning to the back kitchen. Surely her father wouldn’t mind if she took her break early, considering there weren’t any customers. An fished her headphones out of her backpack, plugging them into her phone. Kohane had said she would be arriving later that evening for their first practice, and An couldn’t afford to sing any less than perfectly. Messing up in front of her new partner from the beginning was no way to make first impressions, or rather, third impressions. Kohane had seen her perform a couple times already, but today was different; today they were finally performing as partners.
An hit play, tapping her foot to the all-too-familiar beat of the song. The notes floated out so naturally, and when she closed her eyes, she could already picture the stage—dim lights, the loud beat pounding in her ears and extending to her heart, the crowd cheering as the music came to a stop and she leapt into the arms of her best friend, Haruka’s laugh filling the air as she squeezed her until An could hardly feel herself breathe, yet her smile remained plastered on her face—
“NO!” An let the pent-up anger, the feelings of inadequacy and the loathing at the picture her mind knows will never be real all channel into a single yell, and then it’s over. She squinted, as if squeezing her eyes closed would make the image disappear, but she knew Haruka would never stand on that stage with her.
It took a moment of standing there before she composed herself, breathing in in a slow rhythmic beat. Haruka had told her that if she breathed like she was rocking on a boat, light and steady in a fluid motion, it would calm her. It usually did the trick; Haruka usually knew what to do. She closed her eyes, the hum of the lights above her the only sound accompanying her steady breathing. Breathe in, pause for a brief moment, breathe out, pause for a brief moment. Don’t hold for too long, or the rhythm isn’t even. Somehow, it seemed to calm her down, save for her still racing heartbeat. Simple breathing exercises weren’t enough to take care of matters of the heart.
The world was still. She’s standing in an empty WEEKEND GARAGE, but Kohane was on her way. Her father should have returned by now, but knowing him, he probably got stopped along the way for idle chatter. She wouldn’t mind normally, but the silence has an eerie dread to it that brings her fears to the surface, threatening to pull her under.
As the noise spawned from her mind, the front door slams closed, the bell sound echoing in its wake, and An realized she’d never heard it open to begin with. “Kohane?” she called out, her voice weak. She swallowed and quickly combed her fingers through her hair before she peeked out from the kitchen. No one was at the counter. An slapped her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head as if forcing herself out of a trance.
“Snap out of it, An! You’re imagining things again!” she scolded herself. “There’s no one here. You’re just waiting for Kohane for practice, and then you can sing again! You can show her that you’re worthy of being her partner, that you really care about your dream and want nothing more but to fulfill it with her by your side!”
She forced a smile. The artificial gesture wasn’t enough to convince her mind that the feeling was real. It startled her when she brought a hand to her face again and noticed the moisture at her fingertips. “You’re not crying, are you…? Please, stop crying.” She shook her head, having felt slightly ridiculous for talking to herself. It’s childish, she’s aware, but it’s comforting. The tears seemed to fall so easily down her cheeks in light streams, without a real trace. Only the sound of the familiar bell ringing as the door is pushed open brought An’s hand to swipe at her eyes.
“Welcome! I’ll be right with you” She called out, taking her apron from the hook and tying it sloppily around her waist. Crying on the job was certainly one way to look incredibly silly, but she hoped that flashing her usual smile could hide the evidence.
A customer she hadn’t seen before stepped through the doorway, taking a seat at one of the stools by the counter. “I’ll take a latte,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, and extra milk, please.”
“Right away!” An’s voice didn’t fail her thankfully, only carrying its usual cheeriness that many told her was contagious. She disappeared behind the counter to mix the drink, praying that she could remember the details of the order. Usually, waitressing was more her cup of tea (more like her cup of coffee), or entertaining, as she preferred to work, but in the absence of her father, An was certainly capable of mixing one drink.
“Do you often get visits from idols here?” The customer asked, leaning forward to watch An while she added the milk to her drink.
An nearly choked on the air. “Idols? We don’t get such fancy customers! Usually we just get our regulars plus anyone who is super interested in talking to my father. You’ve probably heard of the legendary event, RAD WEEKEND, right? He—” She caught herself from rambling too much once the customer started giggling.
“That’s awfully funny, because on my way here, I saw that idol from ASRUN… Haruka Kiritani, I believe? She was at the door, but she ran away super quickly. She was quick, too! Must be all that training.”
“Haruka?!” An felt like she’d been slammed against a brick wall. Her stomach seemed to flip in circles. Haruka? Here? Haruka hadn’t visited since middle school, and she’d never exactly planned on seeing her again, especially after they left each other so abruptly. Things just weren’t “working out,” as she’d put it. The feelings just weren’t there anymore. So why had she been here? Then it struck An: the sound of the door slamming wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.
“Haruka Kiritani! You’ve heard of her before, right? She’s even more beautiful in person than on those programs! I should’ve asked her for an autograph, but—”
“I’m sorry! I’ll be back!” She didn’t bother untying her apron or screwing the cap back onto the milk, as within seconds, the door burst open and she was on her feet. The customer called out something about her drink, but all An could hear was the blood pounding in her ears.
“Haruka!” she yelled, her voice coming out as more of a croak. The streets were bustling with various performances, sounds that usually excited her. There were too many people, too many people that were not Haruka. Where could such a popular idol hide right now, anyway?
“An! Are you performing today?” A curious voice called out after her, which she promptly ignored. Her mind whirled only with thoughts of finding her friend. She needed to throw her arms around her, to tell her everything she’d been keeping to herself these months they were apart, that she missed her warm smile, her touch, her laugh, that she missed her and couldn’t take another day apart. That she wanted to be on that stage with Haruka, not—
Kohane. Kohane was supposed to show up any moment now. An stopped in her tracks. Clenching her fists, she suppressed the urge to cry out. She wanted to curl up like a small child, to sob into her arms until her eyes were dry of tears, but An Shiraishi was no such coward. She had to show Haruka that she could move on, just like she promised, and she had to prove to Kohane that she was a worthy partner.
Part of her hoped to find Haruka at the door to WEEKEND GARAGE after she dragged herself back, but only her father’s grim expression greeted her. “An,” he spoke her name plainly, and she could already tell he was going to scold her. “You left that customer sitting here over some autograph? I didn’t take you as one to ignore your job for something like that, but please, at least finish the order before you go running off.”
It wasn’t often that An was scolded by her father, and something about his words cut deeper than if he had yelled or screamed at her. An autograph? An would never run after someone for a simple autograph. She struggled to stifle a laugh, knowing it wasn’t too fitting for the situation. Instead she only bowed her head and muttered an apology. “I’m really sorry! I’ll do all of the cleaning tonight if that would help—Wait! Kohane!”
“Hm? Oh, do you mean that blonde girl with the glasses? She came here looking for you earlier just a few moments ago, but I had to tell her that you’d left. I didn’t know where you were.”
“Oh! Right! No problem!” An disguised her disappointment with her own laughter. “She’s coming back tomorrow, right? Or did she mention it at all?”
Ken shrugged. “She only apologized and left. If it was something serious, I’m sure she’ll return later.”
“She will! I just know it!”
“Then I hope she’s as serious as you are about it. I’m glad you found someone.”
An couldn’t help feeling that Kohane should have stayed for just a few extra moments, and maybe she would have if she was as serious about surpassing RAD WEEKEND. She’d seemed quite unsure of herself, so surely it was natural for her to be hesitant. An couldn’t remember being afraid of performing. She’d always had a passion for it, even as a young child, that no amount of stage fright could quell. Maybe Kohane just hadn’t found that passion yet! They hadn’t even had a real practice yet. An could convince her that street music was something exciting, something she could learn how to love.
Ken cleared his throat. “Let’s not just stand here. Will you help me close up so we can return home?”
“Oh! No problem!” An pushed past her father to take a broom from where it leaned against the wall. She curled her fingers around the handle, moving the rug by the door to sweep from under it. Her father quietly wiped at the counter with an old rag, humming some familiar song she realized she’d forgotten the name of. She hummed along until her father stopped, looking up at her.
“An, one more thing. Did you take your hair clips out?”
An’s grip tightened on the broom. “Yeah! They were kind of childish, don’t you think? I needed a change anyway.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m also thinking about dyeing my hair another color. Do you think pink would look good? Or maybe purple would be cute!”
“I’ve always thought the blue suited you.”
She’d thought the same thing, when she’d picked out the dye with Haruka on one of their many shopping trips, back when they’d had the time to hang out together. Not the same blue as Haruka’s hair, since having the exact same color would be boring, as she’d determined back in middle school. Haruka had thought it would be cute if she only dyed the bottom half of her hair the brilliant blue she’d picked out so that her night sky would look like dusk fading into midnight. The color did seem to suit her, a perfect contrast with her orange eyes, but certainly it was time to change things up a bit.
“I think I’ll go with pink then!”
An’s reflection taunted her in the mirror. Looking back at it hardly felt like looking at herself, rather someone entirely unfamiliar. She shoved the thought down, running her brush through her long locks until her hair felt smooth to the touch. She found her eyes darting to her collection of hair dye on her counter, the temptation gnawing at her.
“Does blue even suit me?” She asked her reflection; she was only met with her own frown. “It suits her better, doesn’t it? She always looked beautiful in blue. Matched her eyes.”
She turned on the faucet, letting the water run through her fingers. There was something satisfying about watching the water pool in her palms and run down the sides of her hands like her own miniature waterfalls. Bringing the water to her face, the sudden bite of cold sends shivers coursing through her body. When she looked up at herself again, side-eyeing the hair dye, she still felt that same temptation, enough to reach for the bottle.
It was late, around 9 pm, and if her parents knew that she was up making foolish decisions when she still had a pile of homework and a plethora of other responsibilities left unfinished, well, An understood their inevitable disappointment. Somehow that fear was washed out by the unwavering desire to change herself—to prove that she was An Shiraishi, someone talented and worthy enough to perform on such an important stage without the ghost of the girl she formerly loved haunting her every move.
She found an old t-shirt and laid a towel beneath her feet, taking her desk chair and scooting it into her bathroom. From there, she sectioned her hair into two pigtails—kind of like how Kohane wore hers, she thought, but the hairstyle didn’t suit her nearly as well, nor was it nearly as cute. She quickly realized the gloves she chose were not quite thick enough to protect her skin from the dye seeping in, and she hoped no one would think anything of pink-stained hands at school the next day.
The dye was cold on her scalp, and a slight twinge of regret surfaced, but she persisted. Certainly only dying a strand of her hair pink would look quite strange, so at this point, she had to commit. Rubbing the dye into each section of hair, An hummed the chorus to the song she’d performed with Kohane just the day before. She glanced up repeatedly at the mirror, giggling at how ridiculous she looked with pink hair dye plastered all over her head.
“Cute!” she muttered triumphantly when she finished scooping out the final bit of dye and applying it to just the tips of her bangs, lightly so the contrast didn’t look too stark. The instructions told her to let the dye sit, and she took out her phone and tapped at the screen with pink-stained fingertips. As if on cue, a notification rang and she opened her DMs to Mizuki asking about the homework that night. Typical. Although, they usually didn’t make the effort to try to catch up in class, not to mention even showing up in the first place.
Instead, An opened the camera app, snapping a quick picture and replying with that. Mizuki’s response was quick, a simple “YOU’RE GONNA LOOK SO CUTE!!!” along with a ton of heart emojis. Also typical. An watched Mizuki type for a moment after, then another moment, until it seemed more like they accidentally dropped something on her keyboard rather than bothering to type what could’ve been a paragraph by now. She set her phone down and returned to work on washing the dye out of her fingers, even if the effort was futile, before her phone buzzed again.
Mizuki: “Heyyy have you heard about Haruka Kiritani from ASRUN? She just quit being an idol!!!!! I’m so sad :( Might have to stay home from school tomorrow :(”
An’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
An: “HARUKA??? SHE QUIT???? THERE’S NO WAY”
Mizuki: “Yeah! Officially, about a week ago, but the public is only hearing about it now, I guess.”
Mizuki: “I really loved following her group too :( She was suuuper cute~!!”
Mizuki: “I didn’t take you as an idol fan though!! You should’ve told me!!”
An: “Oh, I’m not really into idols and stuff. I was just shocked because people talk a lot about her. Sorry you’re upset though :(”
That may have been a total lie, but An didn’t need Mizuki getting any ideas that she was sitting totally dumbfounded in her bathroom with half a bottle of hair dye sitting on her head as she tried to convince herself this wasn’t a matter worth crying over.
There was no logical reason Haruka would ever quit being an idol. Idolwork flowed through her blood, and she knew better than anyone that being an idol was everything to Haruka. Not only that, but she was beloved by fans from everywhere. Nothing could separate Haruka from that, not even her own best friend’s selfish request.
Haruka had been the first person An told about her dream, after her own father, of course. They were sitting at the counter of WEEKEND GARAGE watching an idol television program, and An had never seen Haruka describe something with such passion, the way she smiled so innocently, her eyes nearly sparkling. She was going to make others smile just like that, and An knew from the second she sensed her resolve that she would do all of that and more. Her own dream seemed so silly in comparison, just wanting to surpass an event she was too immature to comprehend the wonders of, but Haruka took her hand in her own and told her that she couldn’t wait to see it happen.
An only wished that Haruka wanted to be with her when it did.
She never should have even asked her to perform alongside her, especially when Haruka had been training to become an idol for a couple years. To throw all of that work away just for a selfish request to sing with her was ridiculous, yet at the time, An thought nothing could separate them, even as Haruka politely declined. If even she couldn’t tear her best friend away from her idolwork, what could possibly do so in her place?
An’s phone vibrated furiously with every received text from Mizuki. The sound annoyed her, each buzz just another punch in the gut.
Mizuki: “Oh yeah she’s suuuuuper popular~ For good reason!!”
Mizuki: “I hope she’s doing okay though…”
Mizuki: “Anyway, you never told me what the homework was!!”
Mizuki: “Don’t let me fail pleaseeee~”
Mizuki: “An???????”
Mizuki: “An please don’t die on me yet”
Mizuki: “ANNNNNN”
An: “Sorry Mizuki!!! Ask someone else for the homework!!! I need to wash out this hair dye!!!”
Mizuki: “You filthy traitor!! Can’t wait to see your hair tomorrow though~!!”
Shaky hands fiddled with the handle on her shower, adjusting the water temperature until it steamed overhead. The hot water soothed the pain tightening in her forehead, and as she breathed in the steam, she felt her head start to clear out. It was somewhat therapeutic watching the sticky dye wash out of her hair, dyeing the water beneath her a vibrant shade of pink. She wished the water could wash away the thoughts plaguing her.
An took a section of her hair and squeezed it, watching the water drip down at her feet. What could possibly make Haruka quit being an idol? She always looked so free on stage with her fellow idols who all shared the same dream, so why was it Haruka that had to quit? Haruka worked harder than anyone she’d ever met, possibly too hard for her own good. Surely that wasn’t her own downfall? No, that wasn’t possible. Haruka didn’t give up that easily, not when something else wasn’t wrong. If only she could just ask her, if things were that simple. It was much simpler to stand under the showerhead and let the water pour over her.
She only stepped out once she heard the faint shouts of her father from the hallway, something about leaving the water running for too long. She wrapped a towel around her sopping hair, cursing lightly to herself once she realized that once white towel was definitely not going to be white when she took her hair down.
Her hair… was certainly not what she expected. Maybe she should’ve thought back to elementary school art class, learning about how colors worked when they mixed together. An couldn’t help but laugh at her own reflection, the dyed part of her hair an awkward purple color with a slight pinkish hue. Maybe if she was looking for a color to define herself with, fate was telling her that this was it. Maybe she was just making up excuses to distract herself from the failed attempt at a new hair color. Her laughter turned into hysterics, and as she laughed she found herself struggling to breathe until her laughter came out as sobs, ugly sobs that lodged in her throat as she tried not to choke on her own tears.
Nothing was ever fair.