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Misaki slammed the dressing room door behind her and slid the bolt across. They couldn't see her like this.
Breathing was a struggle, for one, even without the ridiculously oversized, unventilated pink bear helmet. She tried to focus on her surroundings, which by this point were mostly dark and unfamiliar.
Whose idea was this? No, seriously. Who had put this much effort into making her life a misery just so a quintet of idiots could sing some silly little songs (that she composed almost entirely on her own, mind you) in the slim, overly-ambitious hopes that it'd "make the world smile"? Since when was the wellbeing of the world her responsibility? The world wasn't smiling. No one was smiling, not after the stunt she'd pulled.
She never asked for any of this.
Admittedly, Misaki probably took this one a bit too far. It was supposed to just be a gentle reminder that she existed. That Hello Happy would absolutely not be the same band without her. Not only that, but that she was, indeed, an onstage member of the band and not some ominous backstage presence that happened to be in cahoots with some random magic pink bear who she could pull out of the void whenever she felt like it.
It was so much more simple than they thought it was, yet so much more complicated to understand.
How do you tell a child the tooth fairy isn't real? Any sane parent would calmly say: "unfortunately, there is no supernatural being who collects human teeth in exchange for money because A: that would be indescribably creepy and B: money doesn't grow on trees". Followed by, hopefully, a lesson in financial responsibility and how adults are filthy hypocritical liars who want to shelter their precious darlings from the real world as much as humanly possible.
How do you tell three idiots that Misaki is Michelle? Easy, you don't bother. Because it won't get you anywhere. It will just leave you on the verge of a panic attack in a dark, claustrophobic dressing room. Happy, lucky, smile, yay indeed!
But again, perhaps Misaki was taking this too far. She shouldn't have yelled and she most certainly shouldn't have said what she said to Kokoro (she was expecting a nice, hefty lawsuit from the Tsurumakis for that one). But in her defense, this was becoming bad for her health.
There was no way she could function under these conditions. She spent all day in a hot, oversized bear outfit (even in the summer) dancing around like her life depended on it, and on top of that spent all night coming up with song concepts for the band. Mixing the tracks, coming up with lyrics, trying to make out whatever absurd ideas lay in Kokoros illegible handwriting, she was overworked and exhausted.
None of this was healthy, and no one realised. Everyone simply thought Misaki was some magical entity capable of taking on 50 jobs at once all while maintaining a secret double life.
Well, everyone except Kanon.
Perhaps things weren't so bad. Perhaps they were right, and she was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe she was the asshole for standing up to a problem that simply didn't exist. Thoughts were bouncing back and forth through Misaki's mind like flies, maybe this was all for nothing. Maybe the fact that this was damaging her so much didn't matter.
Maybe her health didn't matter.
The darkness of the dressing room only enhanced her anxiety, so she reached her hand up to flick the light switch by the door. The light revealed the multitude of unkempt piles of costumes on the floor, both garments planned for future concerts and garments worn in the past. She hadn't cleared out this room in forever, she never saw the need. The piles just formed themselves and kept growing over time, as though in a cruelly coincidental parallel to her frustrations with her position in the band.
Additionally, sitting amongst the mess, was the head of Michelle. The obnoxious bright pink alter ego herself, permanently grinning, and now directly at Misaki.
God, it was like she was mocking her. She couldn't take this anymore.
In the aftermath of her initial anxiety came frustration. Misaki hoisted herself up off the floor and, in a blind rage, gave the helmet a swift kick. It hit the wall ahead with a loud, room-shaking thud.
"Damn costume." she muttered, but she quietly hoped that no one had heard the racket. In an effort to relieve her frustration, she seemed to have caused herself a new problem of being seen again…
…and in a malevolent irony, that's when the tears started up.
Misaki crumbled to the floor, causing another room-shaking thud as her knees hit the hardwood. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the floor, creating little damp patches.
None of this was fair.
As was expected (or at least feared), she could hear the faint sound of frantic footsteps coming down the corridor leading to her dressing room, followed by a soft knock on the door.
Misaki didn't reply.
"Um- Misaki-chan, it's me. Kanon. I was just wondering if you were alright, I heard a loud thud and came over to check on you. Can I come in?"
Misaki didn't reply.
"Also, I understand if you do not want to talk about it. That's completely fine…if you would just like some company, then I'm willing to offer that to you as well, and I'll leave you alone if you don't want me here. But could you at least respond? Sorry if I'm intruding on anything, I'm just a little worried about you."
With all the strength she could gather, Misaki wiped her tears and pushed herself to her feet. She shuffled towards the door, slid the bolt back across, and pulled it open.
She'd done, admittedly, a rather poor job at wiping away her tears. Anyone with a brain and the ability to see could tell she'd been crying, and Kanon had both. Right off the bat, this wasn't working in Misaki's favour.
"Oh God, Misaki-chan I'm so sorry, I should've said something at the time. But everyone was so quiet and you seemed so upset, I didn't know what to do…"
Misaki let out a wavering sigh, she tried her best to form coherent sentences in the midst of all her anxiety.
"It's ok, Kanon-san. You didn't need to stand up for me, even though I did a pretty poor job of doing it myself."
"Is it alright if I come in?"
Misaki nodded and stepped out of the way of the entrance, closing the door again once Kanon was inside. She leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. Kanon sat beside her, a sympathetic look on her face.
For about three minutes, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two. Misaki was the one who eventually broke it.
"I'm so tired." her voice croaked, drowned almost completely by her tears. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."
Kanon placed her hand affectionately on Misaki's shoulder, rubbing back and forth slightly.
"You're trying so hard," she was half-whispering, in an effort to calm the DJ down "but sometimes you try too hard, and you end up burning yourself out. In those cases, it's understandable to act the way that you did."
"But it's not an excuse. I shouldn't have hurt my friends' feelings like that."
Kanon chuckled lightly.
"If it's any consolation, I don't think Kokoro-chan fully understood most of what you were saying."
"True, didn't she once ask what a worry was? I doubt she understands how much pressure this all is, even if I spell it out as clearly as possible." Misaki was still crying, but only slightly. No heaving sobs or hiccups, just a small downpour of tears and the occasional sniffle.
"I'm…extremely proud of you for making it this far, Misaki-chan. But it's so important that you take a break. Your health matters."
Misaki let out another sigh, holding her head in her hands. She was exhausted and Kanon was right, but after how angry she got at her friends, perhaps it was inconsiderate to take a break from the band.
"I don't know. I'm not sure." Her voice began to crack, and from those cracks leaked another onset of tears "I'm not really sure…about anything anymore."
Kanon sat next to her the whole time, gently rubbing circles into her back. It didn't feel like enough.
"Is it alright if I hug you?"
Misaki nodded, hesitantly. Kanon brought her arms around her, pulling her head in towards her chest. Misaki could feel Kanons heartbeat through the thin fabric of her dress, soft and rhythmic.
The next few minutes were silent, but considerably more comfortable, and Kanon was the one to break it this time around.
"I love you." she whispered, still holding Misaki close. "Please be kind to yourself. Okay?"
Misaki nodded slowly, still crying.
"I love you too…" she was speaking between sobs, it sounded a little pathetic in retrospect. But perhaps under these conditions, being pathetic was understandable. She'd allow herself to be pathetic in front of Kanon.
After a short while, Misaki calmed down. Wiping away what remained of her tears and taking deep breaths.
It was going to be ok.
Kanon took Misaki's hand, lifting her to her feet. Even after Misaki had calmed down, she still spoke in the same gentle, half-whispering tone.
"Would you like to go back? If not, you could simply head home, I'll explain to them that you're taking a break."
Misaki still felt hesitant. She opened her mouth to object, but gave up at the last moment. She needed some time off. If there was anything she wasn't going to be, it was a martyr.
"Alright, you can do that. I'm ok with it." Kanon had turned around to leave by this point, but Misaki took her hand before she could get too far. "Um- thank you. Thanks for everything."
Kanon smiled, affectionately.
"No problem." She gently ran her fingers through Misaki's hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. "Take some time off, okay?"
Misaki nodded, and Kanon took her leave. The DJ was left standing in the same old confining dressing room with ever-growing piles of clothes around her, but the world felt lighter. It felt more familiar and manageable.
Things were going to get better from here. Even if just for a short while, the others could take the lead.
But for now, she needed some sleep.