Chapter Text
Kita Ikuyo is in love with Gotoh Hitori. This isn’t up for debate – she realized it back at the school concert, and never really stopped or even wavered. The only problem is that now that she knows this little fact, it’s become increasingly important to her that Bocchi never begins to suspect this, because Kita’s seen enough friend groups get blown apart by inconvenient romance, and Kessoku Band is a hell of a lot more important to her than a friend group. This is for the best, she tells herself, because it’s not like the timing is right for this stuff anyway. Kita has an acute social awareness, even if she does get a little carried away sometimes, and she is certain – bone deep certain – that if she were to make some kind of move, that would be the last time she ever saw Bocchi.
So she maintains her friendship, though if she initiates a little more physical contact than she does with the other members, it’s not that obvious. That’s what she tells herself, anyway, even if she’s caught PA-san watching her closely with an unreadable (naturally, thanks to her mask) expression more than once. Bocchi, fortunately, appears to be her same old self – maybe a little more focused on Kita these days, but that’s mostly because Kita made that whole “I want to become a guitarist worthy of playing with you” speech which was basically an invitation to spend more time practicing together.
Bocchi’s a patient teacher, partially because Bocchi is just a kind person with a good heart (in spite of what Bocchi might think herself) and partially because actually correcting Kita requires a lot of effort, because Bocchi hates telling her – or anyone, really – they’re doing something wrong. It’s not in Bocchi’s nature, is the thing. Kita, however, wishes that Bocchi would be a little more aggressive with her sometimes, would stop talking in circles around the things she thinks Kita needs to do to improve her fingering and just say the damn thing instead. Kita thinks, sometimes, it would be nice if Bocchi said some other things to her too, because – this is what makes everything so difficult for Kita – she’s not blind, and in fact is pretty observant when it comes to social situations, so she can tell Bocchi’s got, well, maybe more of an interest in Kita in the romantic sense than one normally has for their friends.
Which is the exact thing Kita wants – wants it so much that her heart aches in her chest to think about it, wants with a longing that swirls deep inside of her, a howling maelstrom of desire that only gets stronger with every week that goes by. What Kita doesn’t know – will never know, maybe – is whether or not Bocchi’s regard is just a passing thing or if, maybe, Kita’s not the only one yearning. Unfortunately, the only way to actually find out is to say something, and that would more or less ruin the whole “keep quiet about this whole ‘I’m in love with Bocchi’ so the band doesn’t implode” strategy she’s currently working on. She can’t, however, keep herself from wanting, and can feel it starting to fray her sanity just a little, so, when she feels like if she doesn’t do something she’s going to crack and turn feral, Kita comes up with a Plan.
“Bocchi, do you mind waiting up for me? You’re headed for the train station too, aren’t you,” Kita asks one night as she packs up her guitar after practice.
There’s a moment where Bocchi freezes up, just for a minute, and slowly turns to regard Kita with a wide-eyed stare. “Eh? Yes, I can... I can wait,” she finally says, after what Kita thinks is an eternity but in reality was probably twenty seconds. “I-is there a problem,” Bocchi adds, because it’s Bocchi after all and her first instinct would of course involve something being wrong.
Kita laughs and smiles brightly, shaking her head. “Of course not silly, I just wanted to know if you’d walk with me to the station! It seems silly that we leave at different times, don’t you think?”
“W-well, we do take different trains,” Bocchi replies, a little uncertainly. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your train just because you were wasting time with me a-and then it would be all my fault.”
There’s that Bocchi confidence, Kita thinks to herself, and can’t help but giggle a little. “Bocchi,” she says, patiently, “my train leaves after yours. You’d be the one missing your train if anything, you know?” When it looks like Bocchi’s about to apologize, Kita interrupts her hastily to add, “I just don’t want to walk alone,” and maybe just a hint of her longing breaks through at that moment because Bocchi’s eyes widen for a moment, and she rubs the back of her head a little bashfully, the slightest hint of red on her cheeks.
“O-oh, well, sure, I can... I mean, you can count on me to walk... with you,” she finally says, and somehow manages to look Kita in the eyes when she says the last two words, which does nothing to help Kita feel less in love with her, that’s for sure.
Kita’s own face feels hot now, and her response of “Great, just let me finish up here real quick and we can go” is maybe delivered at a slightly higher volume than it needs to be, which does draw a look from Nijika and Ryo, who are engaged in their normal end-of-practice routine of pretending that Ryo isn’t going to go upstairs and mooch food off of of the Ichiji sisters. They should just date already, Kita thinks, briefly forgetting the whole “dating band members kills bands” thing that’s currently serving as her excuse for cowardice re: Bocchi.
The sun’s long set when Kita and Bocchi exit Starry, but the streets are well-lit enough that it doesn’t really matter. Kita keeps up a regular patter of conversation, talking about how practice went and how she’s doing learning the new song, and her heart soars when she looks over and sees that Bocchi’s hanging on her every word.
“I-I’m glad you like my lyrics,” Bocchi says, after Kita mentions liking a particular line. Kita’s about to say something to the effect of of course, I like all your lyrics, you’re great at it, but Bocchi then has the audacity to add, “I t-tried to write something you’d l-like.”
There’s a very long pause as Kita’s brain is forced to reboot due to overheating. The best she manages in the interim is a somewhat squeaky “O-oh really,” and she looks away, has to look away, because if Bocchi gets a good look at her face she’ll know. “Nobody’s ever written a song for me before,” she finally settles on, and it’s only after she says this that it fully hits her that Bocchi wrote a song for her, and she turns completely away and leans against one of the streetlights for a second because her knees have gone weak. Get it together, Ikuyo, she thinks to herself angrily, Bocchi didn’t mean it like that and you know it.
Bocchi’s nervous “K-kita? Are you okay,” breaks in and Kita snaps back to attention, hastily assembling the brightest grin she can which will, she hopes, cover everything she’s feeling at the moment.
“Yep, just fine,” she says, and flashes a thumbs up for emphasis. “I just got a little dizzy for a second there. Guess I shouldn’t have skipped lunch,” she lies, even though Bocchi knows as well as anyone that Kita does not do things like skip lunch.
Bocchi’s hand on her shoulder burns hot, or feels like it does anyway, and Kita nearly jumps out of her skin. “W-we can get something at the station,” Bocchi says, voice full of concern that is so genuine Kita’s feels like she is going to either burst into tears or jump Bocchi’s bones right here in the street or some combination of both.
“I’m fine, honest,” Kita says again, and begins walking again, maybe a little more quickly than before. “Come on Bocchi, you don’t want to miss your train, right?”
Bocchi makes a little “ah,” sound at that, and hastens to catch up. Kita tries not to think about how in general that’s a noise Bocchi makes when she’s Noticed Something, and hopes that this time it’s not the case. The rest of the walk is pleasant, and when they reach the station Bocchi, true to her word, buys a candy bar out of a vending machine and insists that Kita eat it. Kita has to take another moment to collect herself, but at least this time Bocchi doesn’t seem to notice.
When the time comes for them to split up, Kita gives a cheery wave and a “see you tomorrow” that Bocchi returns with her own little half-wave (Bocchi would never wave as enthusiastically as Kita, because what if she accidentally hit someone with her arm while waving too hard and they fell on the tracks and died, and then she’d be arrested and spend the rest of her life in prison) and a smile, and Kita knows that she’s never going to be able to walk to the train station alone again.
The train ride home has her heart pounding as she rotates the phrase “I tried to write something you’d like” over and over in her mind, seeking desperately for some kind of confirmation that Bocchi did mean it like that, the maelstrom of desire now strong enough that if it could be harnessed would probably provide sufficient power to keep the lights of Tokyo on for several decades while still having enough to power a few villages besides. It’s a miracle that she manages to get any sleep, because every time she starts to drift off she feels Bocchi’s hand on her shoulder again, hears “I tried to write something you’d like” echo in her head, and then it’s off to the races again.
On the way to the station the following night, Kita can’t stop herself from wanting to touch Bocchi, and so:
“Hey, Bocchi,“ she says, and sticks out her hand, “grab my hand, please?”
Bocchi nearly jumps out of her skin at the request, and looks over at Kita like she’s sprouted another head. “W-what?”
“So we don’t lose each other in the dark,” Kita says, as the two pass under a blinding streetlight. She wiggles her fingers in what is probably, she thinks, an inviting manner. “Come on, please?”
For the first time, Kita sees a flash of something on Bocchi’s face that might be fondness before it is buried under whatever avalanche of anxieties the guitarist is cooking up in her head about the simple act of holding Kita’s fucking hand. She keeps her hand extended, wiggles her fingers again; waits patiently for Bocchi to make a decision. Eventually, Kita looks away, feeling a little embarrassed, and it’s then she hears a soft, “O-okay,” and feels Bocchi’s calloused fingers slowly and carefully entwining themselves with her own.
In a minor miracle, Kita manages not to collapse on the spot.