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It takes a ridiculously long time for Shiho to realise she is in desperate need of glasses, and an even longer time to admit it.
She doesn’t know when things started to look like a complete blur, splotches of colours blending to create a whole lot of nothing. Her vision was just fine before, until one day it wasn’t what it used to be. What began as just a little bit of squinting to see the chalkboard in class turned into strenuous exercise, her eyes squinting so hard she may as well just close them and give up. The words on the board have little meaning now that she can’t even see them. She gives sheepish grins and a never-ending string of apologies to the girl next to her every time she copies her notes.
“Hinomori-san, have you thought about getting glasses?” The girl suggested.
Shiho shrugged her off.
“I’ll be fine.”
She is, in fact, not fine.
It turns out to be a way bigger issue than she initially thought. Shiho realises that she can’t see anything when it’s too far away, but she also can’t see things if it’s too near. She can barely make out the strings on her bass, the years of experience and familiarity being her only saving grace. Under the blinding stage lights at the live house, Honami always points out the unusual fact that her pupils are constantly blown. She notices herself sitting mere inches away from the television during movie nights whenever Ichika politely tells her that her head is in the way of the screen. And it’s almost humiliating that she can no longer answer Saki when she raises her fingers and she can’t say the number. She is, however, very sure that she does not need glasses.
She is also very sure that the glass door in front of her was not there before.
Shiho cowers in front of the door as people stroll in and out of the mall, concerned eyes looking down at her. She hears quiet whispers asking if she’s alright and the nervous wave of laughter from Ichika and Honami claiming that everything is okay.
Everything is not okay. Her forehead hurts like absolute hell and she can definitely feel a bump starting to form on it. She bites her lip to stop her tears from spilling and covers her forehead in shame.
“You need to get glasses, stat.” Ichika chides as she pulls her up from the floor. Well, she thinks it was Ichika who helped her up. Shiho can’t tell when she and Saki randomly decided to wear matching caps with their hair sleekly tied up in the back for God knows what reason. Goddamnit.
“You can't live like this any longer, Shiho-chan. There’s an optical shop nearby, let’s get your eyes checked out and get some glasses, okay?” Honami begs. Shiho can’t really see her face, but she gives in to the imploring eyes anyway.
She soon finds herself in the room of an optometrist after being guided inside. She stumbles on the leg of the chair and nearly falls forward when Honami lets go of her. Yeah, maybe she did need glasses.
After some mildly horrifying results, she’s faced with the cold, hard truth— she has myopia. Half of her accepts that fact. It, as unfortunate as it is, explains why she literally cannot see anything but random colours. But the other half of her refuses to believe it. Yeah, she can’t even read the very first line of the eye chart, but there must’ve been something wrong with it, right?
Saki tells her the only thing wrong is her eyesight. Shiho suddenly doesn’t feel like saying anything anymore.
She is eventually forced to come to terms with her horrific vision. She settles on a pair of frames with the helpful aids of Honami and Ichika and the not-so-helpful inputs from Saki. For now, she’s going to have to learn to put in some contacts.
Shiho receives a call from the optical shop a few days later to pick up her glasses. The days leading up to the collection were a little rough, to say the very least. She was still frazzled by her results, and her friends had to deal with that fact while being extra cautious around her. Honami helped Shiho up and down flights of stairs, Ichika warned her if there was a glass door or any low entrances, and Saki took notes for her in class. Shiho appreciates their help immensely, but she also looks forward to living life without feeling like she’s bothering them. Honami tags along with her on her journey, still fearful for her safety.
She feels like she’s been transported into a whole new dimension the moment she puts her glasses on, because holy shit, when was the last time Honami looked like an actual human being and not just a blob of brown and beige? Shiho blinks behind her frames, stunned eyes taking in the surroundings.
“How does it feel? Too heavy?” The optometrist asks. Shiho shakes her head, only half listening as she stares at the eye chart in wonder. (Was that actually a P? She could’ve sworn it was a Q during her test.) She immediately arranges band practice in the sekai for the next day with giddy excitement under Honami’s approval.
She enters the sekai a little later than she had hoped. No one mentioned just how badly her head would start hurting during the first few days of wearing glasses. She stabilises herself before pushing the door.
“Ah, Shiho-chan! We were worried that you wouldn’t make it!” Honami called out first, standing up from her squatting position on the floor.
“You look great with your glasses. Makes you look like some sort of professional.” Ichika adds. She moves to take a closer look at her glasses. Her frames were admittedly not the most trendy. Instead of the popular thin wires that were currently in style, Shiho opted for a more simple design— thick, black, semi-rimless glasses. She smiles at Ichika awkwardly, “I’m pretty sure I just look like a plain idiot, but thanks anyway.”
The three turn to look at Saki for any comment. By now, Saki would’ve pounced onto Shiho, spouting all sorts of compliments or humorous jabs in view of her new look. What they are met with, however, is a pair of widened pink eyes and reddish cheeks. Saki’s lips are slightly parted as if she had intended to gasp, but the sound was swallowed back before it could be heard. Shiho carefully steps forward towards Saki, kneeling to meet her height. She places a hand on her shoulder.
”Saki? Are you alright?”
Saki doesn’t say anything. She turns her head to look away from Shiho and nods before getting up, effectively brushing away the hand on her shoulder. She scrambles over to her keyboard and looks at them. Shiho notes how Saki’s gaze passes her. Ichika and Honami look at the two in a mix of concern and shock. Saki has never backed away from Shiho’s touch, well, up until now. Shiho gives them a nervous laugh.
“Um, sorry for being late. Let’s work hard today as well, shall we?” Shiho declares. If anybody heard the slight waver in her voice, no one pointed it out.
Shiho doesn’t understand why Saki has suddenly started to act so cold towards her. Any time Shiho tries to talk to her, Saki refuses to make eye contact, and her replies are reduced to short phrases and single words. Whenever they were in the same vicinity, which was almost always, Saki found a way to be at the complete opposite end of her. Saki doesn’t come to her for mindless chatter anymore, and in the rare moments she chirps away around her, an invisible seal is placed on her lips when Shiho joins the conversation. To make matters worse, Saki only has this problem with her. Ichika and Honami don’t tell her a thing when she asks what’s wrong. They tell her it’s something Saki has to figure out on her own.
So now Shiho was being ostracised by Saki and her two other closest friends won’t tell her a thing about it. Great.
Things didn’t really take a bad turn, per se. Band practice has always gone normally, even after Saki’s unforeseen change in personality. In fact, it goes a little faster, because Saki is no longer the chatterbox she used to be. But Shiho doesn’t like that. She hates that Saki doesn’t look at her anymore, that Saki doesn’t seek her out like she used to, that when Saki is presented with options, she will never, ever pick her.
She hates that Saki doesn’t want her.
It’s a selfish thought, yet Shiho doesn’t have the will in her to fight it. She tries asking Ichika and Honami again. She’s met with shrugs and off-handed answers. It’s nothing she isn’t used to regarding the situation. She sighs, waving them off without prying any further. Ichika seems to take pity on her. So, she tells her something, and Honami lets her.
“Even if you’ve done something to upset her, or if you’ve done something horrible, in the end, Saki will always choose you.”
Shiho stops Saki one day after practice, gently holding onto her wrist when she tries to dash out of the room. She notices how Ichika and Honami both give Saki slight smiles. Shiho chooses to pretend she doesn’t see it. She lets go of Saki to stand in front of her. Her gaze still doesn’t meet Shiho’s form.
“Saki, can you look at me?” She asks in the kindest voice she can, fingers lightly brushing one of Saki’s cheeks. Shiho doesn’t miss the way her eyes immediately widen at the touch, a scarlet flush growing rapidly on her face.
Saki peeks up at Shiho meekly, a hand over the lower half of her face as if to shield the redness. She doesn’t fight her on it.
“You know, if you have a problem with me, you can tell me. I won’t get upset. We’re friends, aren’t we?” Shiho assures. At this point, she’s trying to test the waters. There’s been something prodding at her for a while, a reasoning to Saki’s behaviour that is so otherworldly that Shiho can’t accept it unless she hears it from Saki herself. But Saki is avoiding her, and she isn’t saying a single thing. Now, Shiho doesn’t think she’s that egotistical, but when she considers Saki’s attitude, what Ichika told her, and Honami’s nod at Ichika’s words, she can’t think of any other explanation.
She doesn’t want to think of any other explanation because she wishes that the one she has is true.
The way Saki physically deflates when Shiho mentions their friendship doesn’t go unnoticed by her. Shiho, despite everything, can't stop the slightest bit of expectation bubbling in her chest at the reaction. She tries again, “Is it something about my glasses? You’ve been acting weird since I got them.”
To her surprise, Saki gives her a response. She nods her head, now staring directly at Shiho. She still doesn’t remove the hand over her mouth.
“Do I look bad in them? I know they’re not the trendiest but I—”
“No, no! You don’t look bad at all, it’s just…” Shiho is swiftly cut off by Saki’s vehement denial, though her statement falters at the end. She rests her hands by her side and huffs. Shiho raises an eyebrow at her and gestures to her to go on.
Saki shakes her head, “I’m sorry, Shiho-chan. I know I made you feel outcasted, but I hope you know that wasn’t my intention! I’m aware that just a simple apology won’t suffice and that it won’t take away the hurt you felt. I really owe you an explanation, but… I’m not ready for that yet. So, until then, could you be a bit more patient with me?” Saki looks at her with pleading eyes. Shiho can now see the sparkle in them. She knows she can’t win, so she gives her a smile and nods.
Shiho can’t help but hope.
Their relationship noticeably improves after the conversation. Saki is back to being her cheery self around Shiho, save for the lingering stares and bashful expressions when she’s caught. Shiho can't think of anyone cuter. It’s been a little over two weeks since their talk, but Shiho decides she’s willing to wait for her.
A tap on her shoulder snaps Shiho out of her trance. She sees Saki standing next to her desk, her face somewhat unsure. Saki beats her to the punch when she takes her hand, “School is over, Shiho-chan. Can I talk to you?” Shiho feels her heart beating out of her chest.
They end up settling in an empty classroom near the exit of the building. Saki spins Shiho around to face her, nervously chewing on her lower lip in silence. She finally lets go of the hand in hers to twiddle her thumbs. Shiho thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. She taps the top of Saki’s head, eliciting a soft gasp from her.
“Stop chewing on your lip. It will start bleeding if you continue.” She nags without any real bite. Saki frees the pink lip from her teeth and inhales, as if bracing herself for something. She shuffles closer towards Shiho and takes her hand again, clasping it between hers.
“I’m sorry for avoiding you for so long. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, but I didn’t know how to deal with my thoughts and feelings when you were around so I just… straight up ignored you. I hope you know it’s never my intention to make you feel unloved or unwanted.” She begins. Shiho feels the hands around hers start to tremble. She waits for her to continue.
Saki takes another big breath before Shiho is suddenly hit with a truckload full of information all at once, “It’s just that you look stupidly good in glasses so my dumb brain just kept thinking about you and then I had this really big crisis of finding out I liked girls, and then said crisis spiralled even further and I realised I’ve had a fat crush on you for ages and after that, I became so afraid because you probably don’t like me back and I don’t know if you even like girls that way and I’m definitely going to ruin our friendship because of this but I don’t want that to happen and—”
“Woah, slow down. I barely processed anything you just said. Could you repeat that? Slower, please.” Shiho interrupts through soft giggles, placing her hands on Saki’s cheeks in an attempt to calm her down, which, obviously, fails miserably as Saki starts to overheat at an alarming pace. Shiho isn’t faring any better. She immediately surrenders herself and fights the urge to evaporate right then and there. She takes her glasses off to bury her face in her hands and groans.
“I’m a fucking idiot.” She scolds.
It's only when she hears a jovial chortle that she dares to look up again. She watches as the blob, which she knows is Saki, takes her glasses off the ledge of the window to carefully place them back on Shiho’s face. Shiho stands rooted to the ground, dazed from their proximity. Saki’s face remains a blooming red, the crimson blush reaching her ears. Shiho knows she looks the exact same.
“I said I like you, Shiho-chan. Um, d-do you like me back?” Saki says, clearer and slower this time in spite of her tiny stutter. Shiho nods her head dumbly before she can fully comprehend the confession, but she knows she would’ve accepted it all the same anyway. Saki heaves a sigh of relief and wraps her arms around her waist, flashing the most endearing grin Shiho has seen in her life, “It’s oddly comforting to know you’re as nervous as me. I’m not scared anymore.” Saki’s body still feels warm against her skin, but she doesn’t push her away.
“Hey, at least I don’t go out of my way to avoid someone because I have a crush on them.” Shiho retorts jokingly once she recovered. Saki sticks her tongue out at her and places her head in the crook of Shiho’s neck.
“I said I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you, I swear! Forgive me?”
Shiho scoffs to mask her amusement, “Just don’t go around ignoring me again because of a trivial reason like that, okay?”
Saki hums at the order as she lifts her head from its comfortable position to face her again. Shiho doesn’t stop Saki when she delicately holds onto her jaw and guides her towards her lips.
Saki stops them just mere millimetres away so she can have the last word, “No promises.” Shiho rolls her eyes and seals them in an anticipated kiss. She can feel Saki smiling against her lips, and she’s sure Saki can feel hers too.
Shiho thinks that she should’ve gotten glasses sooner.