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Umiri didn’t take much time for interests other than music. Striving to be practical and find a place for herself, she only had the focus and energy to play in bands. With her sole focus being Ave Mujica now, her timetable was strangely emptier than she’d thought it would be –seeing how Ave Mujica’s gigs were no easy task, after all.
Uika’s hand in hers was firm, a warmth Umiri felt responsible for. Graduation was imminent, and Umiri’s worries for Ave Mujica’s disbandment had spiked –the fear was imminent, ingrained in her from her many experiences. Perhaps, Disruption ’s recent disbandment was what doubled her fear this time around. Umiri wasn’t ready for Ave Mujica to disband, she could only trust in her members that they truly had no thought of it either.
Umiri stepped into the planetarium, suddenly on high guard. This was Uika’s safe space, her sanctuary, for when she needed to think or relax; and here she was letting Umiri in.
“It might help doing something different for a while, to take your mind off things,” Uika smiled right at that moment, meeting Umiri’s heartfelt reaction with an easy smile.
“I’m touched,” Umiri said, aware that her voice didn’t carry that very emotion she felt in her heart. But Uika’s cheeks reddened. She had told Umiri once that she was easy to read; an admission that set Umiri at ease. With Uika, she had no need to worry whether her care was obvious.
Despite her ease, Umiri linked their fingers together, finding courage to display her appreciation. Uika guided them to their seats, gushing about how this was her favourite spot to recognize the constellations better. Umiri stared at the still dark dome, and remembered the many songs Uika wrote about the night sky and the freedom found in the sky.
Umiri wasn’t a lyrical genius, not by any means when she struggled at putting her thoughts across without her emotions getting a headstart on her and ruining her whole thought process –but she’d always thought of Uika’s lyrics as comforting revelations of the soul. The public praise for their band’s instrumentals, Sakiko’s compositions and Uika’s vocals overshadowed that of Uika’s lyrics; but to Umiri, the lyrics only felt like a central part to who Uika truly was.
“Uika-san, be wary that I could squeeze your hand too hard if the lights dim all the way,” Umiri warned just to be sure.
Uika’s laugh was immediate, bursting at once as she tried to stifle her voice, “Umiri-chan, it’s not going to be a horror show. The way you think sometimes is hilarious.”
Umiri was serious about being suddenly frightened; but she would take the hilarity as praise. She felt her ears redden, and made a move to fix her hair singlehandedly. It wasn’t fair for Uika to praise her all of a sudden.
“You can squeeze as much as you want though,” Uika offered gently.
“I’m taking your offer then,” Umiri replied smartly, then leaned back.
The lights dimmed, truly all the way, and Umiri felt her heart squeeze the way it did before every performance. Before she squeezed Uika’s hand, she felt Uika rub the back of her hand with her thumb. Uika whispered that it was starting now, and Umiri felt every bit full with care.
The night sky projected on the dome above, and the narrator introduced the topic for this evening. The constellations were introduced one by one, which system they made up. It was more scientific than Umiri had thought it to be, going merely off the romantic aspect of Uika’s lyrics.
The constellations’ names were hard to remember, seeing that the shapes didn’t strike a particular acknowledgment for Umiri. But she made an effort to follow.
The black hole had only a brief section, yet Umiri thought it to be most interesting. A black mass that was destructive, perhaps only due to its lonely nature that it was made to absorb.
“It’s a shame there’s not much more said about the black hole,” Umiri said off-handedly.
“Well, there’s not much more scientifically known about its nature,” Uika supplied helpfully, “but it’s interesting that that’s what you fixate on.”
“I guess other entities are too scientific, that’s not my forte even in school,” Umiri grumbled, “But I like it.”
“The black hole?” Uika turned to her.
The programme went on with its narration, but Umiri thought to put her thoughts across, “It’s simple. A simple concept of existence. The need to exist.”
Uika’s eyes remained on her for a fixed time, then she turned her back to watch the presentation.
It was one more hour of facts and history about the stars before the show was done. Umiri clapped to show her marvel, and soon after she was once again walking hand in hand with Uika.
“Was that relaxing?” Uika asked as they exited the planetarium.
In all honesty, Umiri had caught herself almost dozing as her attention span withered with time, but it wasn’t a testament to the activity being a bad idea.
“It was interesting, and very different from what I’m used to,” Umiri admitted, “But I think I understand a bit more about why you write lyrics the way you do.”
“From that?”
“Yes, you really love the stars, Uika-san.”
Uika’s eyes turned doubtful, and Umiri saw the instant recoil in her body language. Just from the words alone.
“My songs are more void compared to how beautiful the constellations are,” Uika said, matter of fact.
There was more to the words than what was said. Perhaps, it was the unsaid that mattered in that instance of honesty. Uika wasn’t weak or self-deprecating in the ways most people seemed to be; she was learned in the matters of hearts. Just not enough in hers.
If she truly thought her songs didn’t hold justice to how she viewed the beauty in the stars she loved, then it meant she needed time to comprehend what it meant for her to write.
“What’s so bad about that?” Umiri said obtusely, not really meant to be a question.
Uika’s face emptied out, lips trembling as if filtering out through the right façade to land on. Umiri watched her, gave her the time to sort herself out.
“What’s so bad about the void?” Uika echoed Umiri’s superficial question, and her smile found a melancholic edge, “You said you liked the black hole, after all, don’t you? Maybe it’s not so bad for you.”
Umiri recognized the barely accusatory tone, as if Umiri’s opinion regarding this was wrong merely for finding no wrongness within Uika’s lyrics. Or Uika herself. Uika turned her back, her hand within Umiri’s letting go in favor of squeezing the inside of her left elbow.
“The black hole is destructive, and bad. It takes and takes to mirror the beauty it consumes.”
“Yet it exists, doesn’t it?” Umiri challenged, thinking it uncanny that Uika could make a tragedy of an entity that existed unapologetically for years.
Uika turned, her pupils flashing with surprise.
“It has a place in the universe, why is it meant to be inherently bad if it exists?” Umiri asked.
Uika looked down, then she made a show to force a smile, “I just wanted to help you relax, so we don’t have to argue about this.”
Umiri’s voice was hard, but it wasn’t for the sake of arguing in vain.
“Uika-san, your lyrics are what makes Mujica stick together. So I’m not so scared anymore.”
Uika stared at her, like she couldn’t understand how Umiri’s feelings of courage manifested in spite of her.
Umiri came closer, braving for Uika’s wrist. Her fingers closed around it, and Uika did not back away. She relaxed in their shared space, and curled a finger around Umiri’s uneven curls.
“The sky is clear tonight, the stars are bright if we look up,” Uika said softly.
“Can you recognize constellations even from here?”
Uika shook her head, “It’s hard to. But the stars are still beautiful to gaze at.”
Umiri’s gaze remained fixed on Uika. Uika reddened around the apples of her cheeks, and huffed as she looked down. Umiri didn’t want to look away from her at this moment, even in favour of the stars. It felt too important to.
So Umiri slipped her hands in Uika’s, and leaned in to take her for a kiss. Uika made a surprised gasp, then she breathed out softly, and melted against her.
Even if existence was too painful, whether because of loneliness or the fundamental of being –there would come a time where they would merge together in the light within.