#and I want to fill a composition notebook with them

[anonymolly]

..

[bloodmoonmuses]

stereo 127 | johnny suh

(for @lovesuhng !!! I hope you like it!!!)

genre: johnny suh x reader, college au, teacher's assistant! johnny, friends to lovers

warnings: none!

summary: johnny is your campus crush. he also happens to be the teaching assistant in your music history class. when you (innocently) ask for help on a project, you end up learning about more than just music.

You’re a bit obsessed with this guy who skates around campus- or the concept of him, more accurately. You don’t even know his name. All you know is that last semester, you (accidentally) memorized his schedule, resulting in you walking to certain classes a few minutes earlier than necessary to catch a glimpse of him. These glimpses were merely a blur, whipping past you like an apparition. He was a ghost to you, and you enjoyed being haunted by him. 

Your friends made fun of you for having a campus crush, arguing that it’s not real since you don’t actually know him. However, you honestly preferred the distance. Then, you could fill in the gaps in your knowledge with your own imagination. Admiring him from afar worked for a while- that is, until the start of Spring semester. 

When you saunter into your music history class, a random elective you took for fun, you’re met with the elusive Skater Boy. You knew he was tall, but he’s even taller than you’d imagined in your daydreams. You glance at him briefly, before going to take a seat at a desk near the back. 

Skater Boy chats with a few of his friends at the front of the classroom, then sits next to the teacher’s desk when the professor enters. You infer that he must be the teacher’s assistant. 

This was a big problem. Surely, you’ll fail this class now. There’s simply no way you’ll be able to focus. The breathy laughs that escape him are already distracting you to the point of being almost unbearable. His smile is so breezy, like a wave catching the wind. He looks just as cool here in the classroom as he does on his skateboard.

The underlying crush that lay dormant in you begins to boil, and you know it will soon bubble over, scalding everything in its wake. You couldn’t wait for the burn. In fact, you aimed to spur it on sooner. 

You make a concerted effort to pay attention to the professor’s spiel, pulling out your notebook to take notes. It's syllabus day, sure, but you want to look studious. The first assignment of the semester is to research the history of your favorite music genre. 

Despite your efforts to focus, your eyes drift to the stickers that adorn Skater Boy’s laptop: Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, an Arctic Monkeys logo and a cartoon surfboard. You want to know everything he likes and commit the list to memory. You want to sew his idiosyncrasies into a quilt and blanket him with your loving knowledge of them.

The professor introduces him as Johnny Suh- a third year music composition major. Now the ghost has a name.

—

You look at the office hours on the bottom of your syllabus. Johnny would be in office in lieu of your professor for the majority of the semester. Would it be so bad to pop in and ask him for help on the first assignment? 

While you admittedly feel silly, walking to the Arts and Humanities building looking a bit too gussied up, you swallow the nervousness. You stand in front of the room, reading the placard:

Professor: Dr. Moon

TA: Johnny Suh 

You knock on the office door. On the third knock Johnny says, “Come on in!”

Meekly, you enter. He’s too real, too tangible, in this small space. You’ve never been within touching distance of him. The prospect makes your fingers tingle. Professor Moon has an insane book collection, two bookcases spanning the walls opposite one another. The rest of the office is cluttered with a slew of instruments.

Johnny is wearing a backwards hat and quarter sleeve sweater. Your eyes graze the expanse of his forearms, then drift upwards. There’s a pen clipped to his collar and another in between his lips. It’s the most tantalizing pen you’ve ever seen. Finally, you make eye contact. 

Introducing yourself, you say, “Hi, my name is _____. I’m in the music history course.”

“Nice to meet you.!” He takes the pen out of his mouth, and your eyes follow it forlornly. That could’ve stayed. “How can I help?” 

Johnny gathers some papers, places them in a neat stack at the center of the desk, then sits on the edge of it.

“Um, I’m a non-major. So, I’m struggling a bit with the first assignment.”

Johnny nods understandingly. “Ah, the dreaded favorite genre assignment. What’d you pick?”

“Pop punk,” you say.

“Fascinating. You don’t strike me as a punk person.”

You shrug. “Grew up on it.”

“Have you been to the record store near campus?”  

You shake your head.

“It’s called Stereo 127. I think it would be cool to listen to some records and base your research on specific albums. Then you’ll have a clearer framework for when it’s time to write the paper.”

“Thanks. Um,” you clear your throat, “Would you mind… showing me?”

“The record store? Yeah, sure. No problem. Does this weekend work for you?” Johnny asks.

“Sounds good!”

—

Stereo 127 is densely packed with all sorts of records, mimicking the state of Dr. Moon’s office. There’s a classmate of yours named Jaehyun who’s keeping watch of the store. He walks around the shop, reorganizing things as he sees fit. As you peruse the albums, you’re peeking at Johnny over the records, trying to catch his eye. Unlike you, Johnny is actually scanning the selection, genuinely trying to help you.

“Let’s get the obvious ones out the way,” he says, holding a Blink-182 record. He’s somehow managed to track down a copy of their debut album, Cheshire Cat.  

“If Cheshire Cat is an ‘obvious’ pick to you, then I’m way out of my depth,” you confess.

“A little pretentiousness never hurt anyone,” Johnny replies. 

So far, you have a copy of Green Day’s Nimrod (which you’re quite excited about) and Paramore’s newest album. As the minutes pass, you get gradually more enraptured by the thicket of albums. Before you know it, you’ve accumulated quite a few records. After a bit, you sidle up to Johnny, peering over his shoulder to check out his picks. You spot a Yellowcard compilation record.

“This is more fun than I thought it’d be,” you pipe, turning to face Johnny. His face floods with fondness when he sees the stack of albums in your arms, caramel eyes warming you from the inside out. 

“Yeah, you have a good eye,” he retorts. “I’ve been meaning to check out a few other shops around town. Y’know. To compare selections.” He’s sputtering now, having fallen into a cough fit.

“You okay buddy?” you say, chuckling. You gingerly pat his back, holding back a full blown laugh as Johnny continues to cough.

He waves you off, but you pat his back once more for good measure.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Johnny says. When he regains his composure, he continues. “I was just wondering… Are you busy on the 27th?”

—

You’re sprinting across campus, eager to meet Johnny outside of the boys’ dorm. It’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen him. He’s leaning against the building as he waits for you, clad in a page boy cap (which he’s wearing backwards again) and tank top. You allow yourself a quick glance at his arms, immediately regretting it as your face heats up. When he spots you, Johnny waves excitedly, the width of his smile making your own double in size.

After your first excursion, Johnny had asked for your number (“in case you have questions on the assignment!” he had said). Since then, the two of you have texted occasionally, mostly about school.

The record store he takes you to this time is called The Boot. It’s less trendy than Stereo 127 and less organized as well. Most of the vinyls are in bins, withering at the edges and clearly sundamaged. Johnny says he comes here to find obscure records to spin during his DJ sets, not to necessarily hunt for additions to his collection. 

“So, you’re a music composition major?” you ask as you crouch down to sift through a box.

Johnny nods. “With a minor in photography.”

“Favorite camera brand?”

“Nikon for sure, but I mostly shoot 33mm film.”

“How pretentious,” you say.

“Oh, you love it.” This is true, you do love it. 

Johnny continues. “I found another record store for us to try out after this one.”

“Yeah, just text me whenever.”

—

You had finished your paper days ago, so the subsequent record store outing was completely unnecessary to a certain extent. Johnny had no choice but to admit that he simply wanted to hang out with you- though, he’s not complaining. 

The final record store you visit with Johnny is called WAYVE. This time, he picks you up in his car to take you there- a dinky pick up truck with a shitty paint job.

“Before we head out- “ Johnny reaches over, opening the glove department in front of you. His hand brushes your leg briefly.. He pulls out a CD case and places it in your lap.

“I made a playlist for you.” He can’t look you in the eyes properly. You’ve never seen him look this sheepish.

Johnny continues. “Not vinyl, I know, but I wanted to decorate the cover.” Taped to the front of the jewel case is a polaroid of you perusing records. In the photo, your brows are furrowed in concentration.

“When did you even take this, you weirdo?”

“A few weeks ago at The Boot. The lighting was nice.”

You’re practically buzzing with excitement when you get home, racing to put the CD in your busted boombox. The first song on the playlist is Going Away to College by Blink-182.

“I haven't been this scared in a long time

And I'm so unprepared, so here's your valentine

Bouquet of clumsy words, a simple melody

This world's an ugly place, but you're so beautiful to me.”

—

You got a B minus on the paper, which is better than you would've done without Johnny’s help. However, the project is the furthest thing from your mind. 

All you can think about is the lyrics of Going Away to College. You’re trying not to read into things, but Johnny wasn’t the most subtle. 

Maybe you should make a playlist for him. Or buy him a record. According to him, Johnny’s not a true collector- that was reserved for cameras. Maybe he’d appreciate it.

Johnny spots you walking to class (though he’s sure your next one isn’t for another half hour). He skates over to you, stopping right at your feet. You shriek, almost stumbling backwards.

“What the hell, Johnny?”

He dismounts his skateboard, holding it under his arm nonchalantly.  “Do you wanna hang out somewhere other than a record store?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

—

The skatepark is overstimulating in the best way. After trying (and failing) to teach you how to do an ollie for an hour, the two of you set up a picnic off to the side of the halfpipe. You eat kimbap off Johnny’s skateboard, using it as a little table.

“Sorry you got a B on your paper, by the way. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t grade it.” 

“It’s okay. I’d rather earn a B from Professor Moon than have your biased ass give me a higher grade than I deserve.”

Johnny places a hand on his chest, gasping dramatically.

“Um, what about academic integrity? I would do nothing of the sort!” he insists.

“Oh come on, you’re obsessed with me,” you say, half-joking. To your surprise, Johnny nods to himself, agreeing with you.

“Only a healthy amount though.”

When you and Johnny finish the kimbap, he scooches next to you. The sun is setting, oranges slowly darkening into a wash of deep indigo. You shiver as the sun dips beneath the horizon. Johnny places his jacket across your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say.

“No problem.”

You place your head on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Um, and thanks for the playlist too. It’s really good.”

“Yeah?”

“It sorta had… a theme to it.”

Johnny suddenly pulls out from under you, leaving you to stumble around for a bit as you catch yourself. When he turns to you, he stares, caramel eyes pouring into your own. You feel warm in spite of the chilly breeze.

“I’ve never really been good with words,” Johnny confesses. “I figured I’d let the music do the talking.”

With that, he takes your face into his hands. He traces your features with the pads of his fingers- running them over your eyebrows, the lids of your closed eyes, your nose and, finally, your mouth. When he’s satisfied, he places a faint kiss upon your lips. 

He pulls back, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m so glad my pretentious bullshit doesn’t give you the ick,” Johnny says.

“Only a healthy amount,” you say through a smile. 

Suddenly, you initiate another kiss, your lips crashing into his fervently. When Johnny recovers from the initial shock, you deepen the kiss further. He’s a patient kisser, never demanding too much or taking more than he’s given. This only heightens your hunger for him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. When the two of you come up for air, you linger with Johnny still in your embrace, his eyes crinkling at the edges with pure joy.

a/n: currently unedited + feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Hello, I hope you don't mind if I share a weird headcanon of mine 👉👈

I normally see people talking about Kakyoin make drawing about you but what if Jotaro does that too? The reason I have this headcanon because I remember the scene when Jotaro using Star Platinum drawing the fly he saw in the picture, and he draw it so well. It makes me think that maybe Jotaro has talent in art too. Jotaro's style will be realistic style while Kakyoin will be more like cartoon/anime style.

Imagine their sketchbook filling with so many drawing of you 💕 Jotaro will watching you from afar, sketching you with your cute smile, your beautiful eyes, he captured it all. For Kakyoin, I think he will even make up characters (oc) that look like you and him and ship them together lol (this headcanon inspried by my friend, she actually do that with her crush).

Thank you for reading my ramble, glad to talk with you :D I would love to hear your thoughts about my weird headcanon

P/s: Love you writing so muchhhh 💝

This is fun stuff, I could eat it up all day. Thanks for sending it in, so I can blabber my mouth about it

This always internally bugged me so I’m very thrilled that someone brought up how well Star Platinum drew that fly. I suppose it’s kind of easy to gloss over for a lot of people compared to Kakyoin’s scene of painting on that canvas. (Then again that fly was kind of important to identify to figure out where Dio was so then again it’s “???” for an explanation)

Anywho, I’d say signs point to Jotaro being able to draw, and I think it’s a hobby he prefers keeping to himself. Like you said of him having a sketchbook, almost no one sees what he draws in it and he doesn’t want anyone else to see it especially if it’s various sketches of you. So more than likely when he does do so, he’s somewhere where he won’t be pestered by school girls, or whatever punk tries to start a fight with him.

I’d also like to think he goes back and lingers on prior stuff, just staring at it for a little while. This applies usually when you’re out of school sick (which he’ll probably stop by later anyway with or without your knowledge). But there’s something comforting about seeing every piece of your visage in his sketchbook. Literally no one else knows about this sketchbook aside from maybe Kakyoin (Holly has her suspicions he takes a sketchbook around but she smiles not pestering her son on his hobbies as she thinks it’s adorable).

For the most part art wise I think Jotaro sticks to traditional art, maybe a dabble of charcoal but he prefers pencils. Maybe watercolor if he ever went beyond, but traditional with pencil/pen is the easiest way for him to pull something out at his leisure. Would he let you see? Maybe eventually when he gets you where he wants you, or if the cat is out of the bag early and you see it and you’re not quite with him yet. Let’s just say seeing that may speed up him taking you.

Kakyoin I could definitely see diving into the oc type of thing, he’d certainly reference an artstyle of a manga you like. (Don’t ask how he figured that out so quickly). Though he definitely loves putting some passion into his artwork and occasionally shamelessly make sultry artwork of you and himself. He loves painting the most as he spreads colors, mixing them into the wondrous hues that is your skin tone. Or splashing watercolors in a notebook, that looks something out of a fairytale. Soft and warm lighting….oops he’s getting a tad bit excited.

He definitely presents pieces that are obviously meant to be stand ins for the two of you. That no one else would ever be wiser too, yeah you might have this odd feeling something’s not quite right, but there’s nothing there you could really prove other than observe just how pretty the composition is. If you compliment it, that just fuels this man’s desire further.

Biggest takeaway here is Jotaro and Kakyoin very blatantly have their own styles whether sticking with black/white/grey, or full on color. Both would be pretty in their own right, and their style choices speak of their personalities without saying a single word.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

hi dillo! can you please do a johnny imagine? it can be of anything you want, you have total free range! thank you!

Partner Project

A/N: One free-range Johnny imagine coming up! Hope you like this Nonny, I thought it was cute :D

“Mr. Cade?”

Johnny’s dark eyes slowly lifted from his composition notebook and he tapped his pencil against the corner nervously, already not liking the tone of his teacher’s voice.

She smiled when he looked up at her, a sickly sweet smile that set Johnny’s nerves on edge. “Mr. Cade, I couldn’t help but notice that you hadn’t found yourself a partner yet.”

Johnny didn’t like her. She was a cranky old woman who, on the best days, liked to pester the whole class with backhanded questions and lecture them on things that didn’t even pertain to her teachings. She taught English for Christ’s sake, Johnny thought hopelessly every time she started on one of her tangents, not etiquette lessons. He sighed and mentally prepared himself for another lecture.

“Would you like me to find one for you?” she offered. That smile was still on her face. Johnny couldn’t help the small shudder that ran through his body and he looked back down at his notebook.

“I’m okay,” he muttered softly. “I’ll work by myself.”

She laughed and the sound was almost worse than nails dragging down a chalkboard. Johnny pushed the tip of his pencil a little harder into his paper.

“Mr. Cade this is a partner assignment. That means you have to work with someone.”

Well, shit. Johnny hated partner assignments. He opened his mouth to reply, to beg for her to just leave him alone and let him do the project on his own, but he’d obviously been too late for her. That sickly sweet smile was directed straight at him, not quite reaching her eyes.

“I’ll find you a partner,” she promised. Her eyes scanned the classroom, rolling over the students who’d already paired together and sat around, clustered together and laughing as they socialized instead of starting on their projects.

She must have found someone eventually because she made a small noise of success that had Johnny’s stomach rolling. Partner assignments were always the worst. People thought he was stupid because he didn’t always understand the classwork right away and he was often too shy to talk to anyone in his classes.

“Y/N! Do me a favor and come sit with Mr. Cade, would you? He’s going to be your partner for this project.”

Y/N?

Johnny may have been too shy to talk to anyone in his classes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know their names. Y/N wasn’t one that he was familiar with. The sound of a chair scooting across the floor came from behind him, and Johnny glanced up, looking back over his shoulder. When he saw them, Johnny let out a soft breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

Y/N was pretty.

Very pretty.

They scooped their backup from the floor hesitantly and closed their notebook, keeping a finger inside to not lose their page. They looked from Johnny to the teacher and stepped out from behind their desk. Their eyes met Johnny’s, and the greaser could practically feel the red burning in his ears. He dropped his gaze back to his notebook and continued to scribble half-heartedly, trying to hide.

“There you are,” his teacher said, sounding far too excited for the predicament she’d just dropped Johnny into. “Now you’ve got a partner. I can’t wait to see what the two of you do together.”

With that, she walked away, and Y/N stopped at the side of his desk. Johnny’s pencil snapped.

“Um,” Y/N started, nervously scratching at the back of their neck. Johnny tried very hard to keep his leg from bouncing nervously and let his useless pencil drop to the center of his notebook, still looking down. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Johnny found himself shaking his head and then Y/N was pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down, dropping their backpack gently by their feet. Their notebook sat open in front of them. Y/N liked to doodle in the margins, Johnny noticed. Small stars and flowers filled the space where notes should have been. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one not paying attention.

“My name’s Y/N,” they said softly. Johnny watched as they rubbed the toes of their shoes against the tile floor. “What’s yours?”

“Johnny.”

“Hi, Johnny.”

“Hi.”

It was quiet for a moment and then Y/N crossed their arms on the desk and let their head rest across their forearms. Johnny could see them now, out of the corner of his eyes. They were prettier up close.

“I just moved here. I haven’t met very many people yet.”

Johnny only nodded. He watched them as they traced a line in their drawing with their finger.

“Do you know a lot of people around here? Have any friends.”

“A few,” Johnny admitted after a pause. “We ain’t real popular or nothin’.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “Sometimes that’s better. Popularity isn’t always the best thing.” 

They lifted their head and took a deep breath, rolling their shoulders a little. Looking over at Johnny, they smiled, and Johnny’s heart started to beat a little bit faster. He hoped the color he felt rushing to his face wasn’t too noticeable. “Guess we should get started then, huh? Project’s not gonna do itself.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“Oh!” Y/N said suddenly, bending to rummage in their backpack. They pulled out another pencil and dropped it on top of Johnny’s notebook with another smile. “Since yours broke, you can borrow one of mine!”

Johnny blinked. Hesitantly, he reached out and picked up the pencil, earning one more smile from Y/N. This was going to be a very long project. 

[goodboyaudios]

(untitled vampire hunter story)

"Why did you do that!?"

"I told you before, its not my fault."

"You wiped out the entirety of House Dirk! And now you're going to look at me like this is no issue!?"

Dorse breathed deeply, try to maintain composure. "Are you going to let me explain, or are you just here to storm around my office and scream in my face?"

Servoss stared back at Dorse with visceral anger and disgust for the angel of death. He took a few moments to think on what the end result would be if he did just storm around and scream in Dorse's face. It would be quite satisfying, but it might upset Kayne to learn his personal advisor was equally as dead as the old vampire house.

Servoss did hate Dorse, but he feared him far more.

"Fine", he said at last, "explain to me how you went after one vampire, and killed an entire house of them."

"I went there," started Dorse, "with the intention to ask for the location of Cirrian Dirk. I was polite, they were not."

"That's your excuse?" Snapped Servoss.

"Tell me, Grand Advisor, what do you do when someone knocks on the Blood Emperor's front door? Do you hurl insults, and threaten them with violence? Because that's what they did! It was my understanding that the Blood Emperor wished for there to be stable relations between humans and vampires. So I'm led to believe one of three things. One, House Dirk didn't get the memo on that. Two, this whole thing was a conspiracy to kill me, which obviously didn't work. Or three, House Dirk just didn't care and the entire house of vampires was planning, or were going to plan, something treasonous against your precious Kayne. If you spin it that way, I've done you blood suckers a favor."

Servoss was speechless.

Dorse quickly opened his desk draw, irritably. "I will accept", he began, grabbing his checkbook from the draw and writing down a ludicrous amount of money, "partial responsibilities as to the damage done to the estate."

He ripped the check out of the book with a focused aggression, handing it to Servoss. "It was a nice place", Dorse said with a dry smile. "This should cover it."

Servoss hesitantly took the check and read it over. For a brief moment, the grief of this great loss of life slipped his mind as he thought about why a man would live in this rundown building in downtown Los Angeles, when he had this kind of money to swing around.

"Oh, and by the way", Servoss turn his head upward to see Dorse sliding over to him another scrap of paper, torn from a composition notebook. "I did find your Cirrian."

Servoss' eyes widened. "Then why haven't you caught him yet!? Why isn't HE dead!?" He snapped, suddenly finding his anger again.

Dorse shrugged. "I thought you'd want to talk with him first. He is your target after all. I'm not sure what happened between you two, but I do know, when something like this happens, my client always gets remorseful for some reason."

Servoss stood there, blankly. He'd lost his anger yet again. This was getting annoying. Cirrian was still alive. Was there anything he wanted to say to him? Would there be any convincing him to stop with this disloyalty to the Blood Emperor? Surely he'd be fearful of the Blood Emperor's might where once before he'd thought him a weak excuse for leadership! There was no way to know that though. None at all, except to go to where Cirrian was and confront him.

Dorse swiveled his chair around and opened a minifridge door disguised as gothic wood paneling. It was filled with cheap beer. Despite it all being the same brand, Dorse was rather picky about which one he wanted.

"Thank you". Said Servoss, quietly.

Dorse turned to see Servoss opening the front door. He noticed the paper on his desk had been taken. In its place was the check Dorse had written. In Servoss' free hand, the torn, scrap paper danced violently at the exposure to the wind and rain outside, trying to escape his grip. Servoss quickly pocketed the paper.

"Kayne will be pleased with your work. He'll send you the money and you need for a new office." Servoss put one foot outside.

Dorse suddenly slammed down a bottle on the desk. "I don't want his shit!" Responded Dorse angrily.

Servoss turned to look at Dorse with an offended frown.

"I want him to use his many connections and resources to find my fucking father." Dorse's eyes felt like hot knives to Servoss. He'd never seen him like this. Is this what it felt like to be confronted with the legendary angel of death?

Servoss looked away and thought for a moment. Distant thunder crackled overhead. "I'll...see what I can do."

The rain began to blow in from the open front door and Dorse frowned at the sight of it. He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Servoss to get out and not let in the rain.

Servoss complied. He fluffed his coat and shivered, trying not to think of Dorse's piercing gaze.

Meanwhile, in his office, Dorse finished the beer he'd picked out from his minifridge. After the last drop was drank, he thought for a moment. The he rolled his eyes as he quickly got up and stuck his head over a nearby trashcan to throw up. The bottle, after being placed haphazardly, rolled off the desk, hit Dorse quite painfully in the back of the head and eventually found it's resting place on the floor in front of him, with the expiration date now staring back at Dorse's remorseful eyes.

"wrong...one..." coughed Dorse between sessions of vomiting, "wrong...fucking...one...!"

(what do you guys think? It's my first time so I'm sorry if it's not up to the Tumblr industry standard! Always looking for tips to improve formatting!)

[reasonsmandy]

TRACK 2

He said I looked

like an American singer

There were few things that persisted in your essence since you were a little child, some quirks came and went, some tastes faded as you got older, but your love for creating music always persisted. In your house there were always papers spread out with some random ideas that appeared in your mind during the day, your school notebook had more rhymes than any subject studied, you lost count of how many napkins you had scribbled with letters in the restaurant where you worked.

But until now they were just lyrics, there was no composition or musical support whatsoever. You needed more, something that would transform your lyrics into unforgettable songs, and that was when you spent most of your days dedicated to creating your first collection of songs. It wasn't always easy, after all, you had to work in the meantime but every morning and break from your job you were strumming the guitar and taking notes and taking notes without stopping.

When you finally had the opportunity to move, it was like a step that made your dream closer, despite your shyness and insecurity preventing you from going after producers who would open doors for you, you believed that everything would gradually fall into its rightful place. And it did when you met Daisy Jones.

Daisy and you were like two perfectly fitting pieces, complementing each other to create something extraordinary. Daisy was good, she was the essence of talent and what's more, her voice was impeccable. From the first night you met you were already sharing lyrics and melodies, and in that first week alone you had four songs ready, you were unstoppable.

You have become a dynamic duo, and have grown in recognition with Daisy's first album, nothing could be more rewarding than finally feeling your purpose hit you like a calm breeze. You moved closer to the coast, finally living on what you always wanted, there were mornings filled with swimming in the sea and letters filling your notebook.

But, as your rise there was the fall of "The Six". Billy had just checked into rehab, Camila had just given birth, and the rest of the band were desperately looking for jobs. It was sad to feel something they had longed for so long slip through their fingers like sand.

But whether by madness, coincidence or chance of fate. Warren Rojas went to work every day just a few steps away from your home, admiring boats and caring for them with complete curiosity. Transforming his decadence into a new passion.

But not only had boats become an admiration for Rojas, but interestingly, so had you. It was a routine for you to go out every late afternoon to write while admiring the sea, with each wave breaking, your pen finished some vowels and consonants to fill the pages of more and more songs.

And it was on one of those days that Warren caught a glimpse of you for the first time.

The sun made its journey to set over the horizon, while Warren was cleaning the last parts of the last boat he had to take care of that day, when above it, feeling the water slowly hitting the boat, he sees you lying on a towel in your bikini writing as always. He stops abruptly, knowing it would be really weird to watch you from afar but unable to avoid it.

“Rojas, we have work to do.” The drummer's co-worker catches his attention when he sees him standing still. “And I want to get home early today.”

Warren doesn't answer him, he continues to lean on a doorpost admiring your figure.

“Who is she?" After a few seconds, he questions. Making the man turn around intrigued and confused.

“Who?" He talks approaching Warren, to see the vision he was seeing. “Oh, she's a songwriter... Or singer. I don't know actually, but she's in the music industry.” He clarifies, returning to drying the closest furniture.

“Do you think she will be here tomorrow?”

“As I told you Rojas, I don't know anything other than this.” The man wipes the sweat from his forehead, staring at the drummer.

You get up, walking to the sea for one last swim.

“Hey, I'll be right back.” And before his colleague even protested he was making his way into the boat in search of paper and pen.

Warren Rojas: *smirks* I mean, I had my moves you know. I still have them, actually. *pauses* With my wife, only, of course. *says looking at you*

Y/n Rojas L/n: Do you know how long it took for both of us to connect the dots and realize that we had already met before? *Laughs* I mean, we were high the first time and the second we didn't get to actually see each other.

The salty drops of water fell from the strands of your hair to wet the sand this time, when the mixture of grains and water gradually involves your foot with each step you get closer to where you left your belongings. Now the wind indicated that perhaps rain would come, you look at the towel finding a drink and a letter next to it. Frowning, you look to the sides, seeing yourself with only the boats moving with the tide and the seagulls taking flight.

You bend down to see what it was about, there was no sign of anyone else near you. It wasn't a very neat letter, you could see that it was improvised and the cursive writing seemed to be done in a hurry, you sit down reading it.

“I didn't want to seem like a weird stalker and bother you during your afternoon rest but, I just wanted to say that you are more stunning than this sunset. Hope you enjoy this, it's my favorite drink.”

Y/n Rojas L/n: I got that letter and kept it, of course, but... I never got another one *looks down*

Warren Rojas: I got fired for some reason I still don't know, after that the holidays were coming, Billy was coming back home. After christmas we were already writing and adjusting Honeycomb, so I never came back. *thoughtful pause*

That morning promised a lot, in fact, for the drummer every day had something for him, but he would finally be returning to what called for them since they decided to move from Pittsburgh. After a long time he would play the drums as an instrument for work and not for recreation, and he loved the feeling of giving himself over to music.

The band was waiting in the sound booth that had been rented for them by Teddy for a while now, Rojas felt time passing as he played with some soda cans that were there. It was obvious he was restless, eager to see the magic happen in front of his eyes. He liked Honeycomb, but didn't dare comment that he felt something was missing, Little did Warren know that not only did he think that but the man who brought you there did too.

“You’re not going to stay still, are you?” Karen complains, as the drummer moves around the room once again.

“It’s not my fault, it’s taking too long.” He complains, randomly hitting the cymbals on the drums.

“He is kinda right, what are we waiting for?” Eddie adds, biting into the apple he had brought from home.

“Teddy told us to wait a little.” Graham answers when he gets back from talking to Billy. Who obviously seemed sullen about the situation.

Y/n Rojas L/n: We were late, very very late... But look, most of the time when Simone wasn't around I had to do almost everything to get Daisy going, waking her up in time, making breakfast, cleaning the apartment and stuff. That day I tried my best to get us in time but, well *shrugs* I don't blame her though, I know she'd do the same for me.

Breathless, you enter the place where you would spend your afternoon, Daisy behind you walked calmly, smoking while observing her surroundings. You pull her by the hand once again, going towards the sound booth where they told you you were going to work. Curious eyes remained on you as you entered the place without precepts and with fanfare.

You knock on the door asking for permission to enter, but Daisy takes the lead entering the place, you sigh "By God's sake" before entering after her.

“Hi!" Daisy says when she enters, smiling like she was having a blast. You feel your chest warm to see her happy.

“Daisy Jones.” Teddy says pointing to her. “Billy Dunne!” He points to the singer now.

“I like your song.” She smiles bigger.

Y/n Rojas L/n: If I felt excluded? God, of course not... I liked composing, not singing, that was never what I wanted. I remember she was so excited about it all, and of course I was too. But with different points.

“Oh, I'm sorry who are you?” Billy answers her, his hands showing how close to this he was.

“Hey, uh, I'm Y/n she's Daisy... Teddy called us to help.” you introduce yourself, he still has the same serious face. You feel a little embarrassed, but you let it go.

“You told me it was just one girl, now there are two?” Billy ignores you, directing his words solely at Teddy.

“Don't worry, my job is already done.” Annoyed, you say, rolling your eyes. “I just came to join Daisy and show Teddy all we came up with.”

Billy lets out a sarcastic laugh. “What you come up with?”

This time you ignore him, turning to Teddy with a questioning look. “How can I help you?”

“The band is inside, I'll adjust things on the soundboard, you can join them and join me there later. Sounds good?” He suggests, you agree, giving Daisy a kiss on the cheek to indicate that you would be nearby.

Y/n Rojas L/n: Sorry, but Billy wasn't nice at all. I'm glad the rest of the band was lovely to me.

The rest of the band watched the commotion behind the glass in the room part of the soundboard. Karen lights a cigarette which she shares with Graham, trying to deduce what was happening as the sound was muffled and basically inaudible. Eddie played with the guitar strings without even noticing what was happening, his mind focused on something, but Warren had his eyes fixed on you and your every movement.

The drummer approaches Graham first, discreetly nudging him, or so he thought he did.

“Hey Peaches, do you know that girl over there?” Warren questions, stealing the cigarette from his mouth.

“The redhead?" He returns the question, giving up complaining about Rojas' "stealing."

“No, the other one.” He squint, trying to remember why he felt like he knew you.

“Nope, never seen her anywhere.” He ensures, trying his best to remember.

“What about you Karen Karen?” Rojas asks the blonde, who just now sees the drummer there.

“Why? Are you interested in her Rojas?” She says teasingly, Warren crosses his arms in denial, shrugging his shoulders.

“No... That's not the point, don't you think you've seen her somewhere?” The feeling grew inside him as he had a better view of you, but he still couldn't remember.

“Well, you better stop acting weird because she's coming.” Karen shrugs, heading towards her keyboard.

Warren Rojas: Y/n always had the gift of leaving me deconstructed, I would become more foolish than I already am in her presence. I think I'm still like that today.

“Hey, I don't want to intrude or anything but Teddy told me to stay here with you guys until he needs me.” Shyly you say, it was bizarre how you could express yourself so much better on paper and pen and were a disaster in front of new people.

“Oh don’t worry, sit down, do you want a cigarette?” Eddie offers, now that he's come out of his trance. You nod, accepting the offer. “I'm Eddie, the bassist.” He introduces himself.

Y/n Rojas L/n: That's when I noticed, they didn't remember me. I don't know if I was relieved or offended to be honest.

Eddie Roundtree: Wait, what? We met before?

Y/n Rojas L/n: Warren kept staring at me, I was feeling kinda uncomfortable. At a certain point I was already wanting to get out of there, but luckily for me, they asked us to give Billy and Daisy the space to sing.

“I think she wants us to leave.” Eddie says when he sees Daisy pointing at them several times.

“But it's our song.” Warren complains, smoking once more.

“Don’t you guys want to talk to Deb?” Karen suggests, you watch the movement from the corner of your eye, feeling a little excluded from the group.

“Deb is working today? Oh shit” Warren says making his way sloppily, towards the door.

Eddie doesn't take long to follow him, you notice that Graham takes his step only when Karen also leaves. The youngest Dunne leaves in a hurry, without noticing the blonde stop and look at you.

“Are you coming with us?” She says with a smile, and you admire how pretty she is. Nodding as you walk out with her.

Slowly you hear the voices of Billy and Daisy becoming a muffed sound, and the lights of the reception catch your eyes as you lean against the nearest wall. You fiddle with the zipper of your bag constantly, a way to release your anxiety, having the idea of leaving there to eat something while Daisy was recording.

You don't announce anything, you just make your way trying to draw little attention to the exit door. Warren, who was watching you from the corners of his eyes, notices and quickly gets up to catch up with you. Surprising both Eddie with his abrupt attitude and Deb with his disinterest.

“Hey nightingale, where are you going?” He makes you stop, you don't notice, but Karen rolls her eyes as she laughs at the drummer.

“Uh.” You say, noticing that you were the person he was talking to. “I thought I’d go get ice cream or something.”

Warren smiles big, “I love ice cream, can I join you?”

You smile small, happy with the suggestion. “I would love that.”

Warren fumbles in his pockets for the keys to his van, and you smile at his nervousness. Leaning on his hands to indicate for him to stop.

“Don't worry, I'll drive” You blink an eye, turning to go to your vehicle, hoping that this whole scene was attractive in some way.

Warren Rojas: It was sexy as hell *smirks* I mean, she is sexy as hell... *shrugs*

Y/n Rojas L/n: He said that? Yes! *tiny celebration*

You stop in front of the motorcycle, Warren watches your movements in shock, feeling goosebumps when he sees you putting on the vehicle's helmet.

“Here drummer, take this one.” you say handing over the helmet, he still watches you speechless.

Warren Rojas: Is there anything sexier than your wife driving a motorcycle? I mean, she wasn't my wife at the time but, you get it!

Y/n Rojas L/n: I did my best to look badass, but deep down, I was nervous, very nervous... I drove to my favorite ice cream shop at the time, which was very close by, but I spent the whole way there thinking "What the hell am I going to talk to this guy about?"

Warren Rojas: What did I think along the way? I thought about who she was and why she was so familiar *pause* and I also tried to find out what her shampoo smelled like. *smirks* Strawberry with honey, that's the smell.

“So...” Warren says when you two sit at the closest table.

“So...” You copy him, trying not to look into his eyes. “Why were you staring at me the whole time there at the record company?”

Warren swallows hard, still watching you talk about the situation casually while reading the menu as if he didn't know it.

Warren Rojas: I thought it was discreet. *shrugs*

Y/n Rojas L/n: *laughs* The last thing he was was discreet, but I love my goofy husband.

“It's just..." He says nervously, scratching the back of his neck, it was the first time you noticed this tic indicating nervousness in him. “It feels like I know you, like, you look familiar... Although thinking about it, you look like an American singer.”

You arch your eyebrows, hugging your torso to the table. “More like a composer. But it was close.”

✧.* 📚 — Hello! So, my first time writing something with more than two parts. I hope you like it because I'm very excited about my ideas. As it is different content, I don't know if I will use the same taglist that I always use. So here's the new one (in case you want to be tagged)

✧.* taglist — @cieopatrasss @neptunes-curse @boredshit-shadow

[ryehouses]

i was tagged in this by @bobafett, who wants to bring back ask box games! this was really fun and really helped drive home the fact that i am maybe a little too wordy!

y'all know the drill. copy, paste, fill in your own answers! feel free to share!

How many works do you have on AO3? impossible for me to say because i have shed ao3 handles like a particularly robust hermit crab, but if i'm just counting everything under iridan, thirteen!

What’s your total AO3 word count? ......1.3 million, as iridan. if we throw in some of my other psueds and the truly awful eragon fanfiction i wrote when i was fourteen, we're probably loking at 2 - 2.5 mil.

What fandoms do you write for? presently, star wars, jujutsu kaisen, star wars again. i have some witcher fic in my gdocs and older projects in rdr2, dishonored, anything that can catch and hold my attention for long enough for my brain to produce a bit of dopamine,

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? all five of them are in the ast 'verse except for lost country

Do you respond to comments? i try to, but it's really hit or miss! i am painfully shy and usually can only go '!!!!!' in thanks

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? of my completed fics, none! i am not really in to the angst ending. if i ever do get around to finishing it, i started a dishonored/his dark materials au that would have ended with corvo going slowly, gently nuts and taking over the outsider's place in the void

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i like happy endings, so all of them!

Do you get hate on fics? occasionally. i still think about that one commentor on ast who accused me of blaming the jedi for order 66 like, all the time. mostly no, though, everyone is really nice!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i've been told that 'wrestling as nasty foreplay' is something of a signature move of mine, so! 1) yes and 2) whatever kind of smut 'wrestling as nasty foreplay' applies as

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? yes, but almost exclusively his dark materials crossovers. i do have a witcher/temeraire fusion au sitting in my gdocs

Have you ever had a fic stolen? no, not that i'm aware of. i do semi-frequent google searches to see if my shit pops up anywhere.

Have you ever had a fic translated? i don't think so! ast was podfic'd, if that counts.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? i don't think so, because i am a whole idiot and am hard to collaborate with.

What’s your all time favorite ship? of ALL TIME? impossible to say. i am inconsistent and flighty. bobadin hit me pretty good, though

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? haha too many. i started a jedi!din fic and didn't get far. i've had several WIPs on ao3 sit without an update for years. i have drafted, redrafted, and drafted again a novel that will most likely never see the light of day. finishing even one of those would likely water my crops for several years

What are your writing strengths? i take particular pride in my settings! somebody on ao3 told me last week that i have nice turns of phrase, too, and i am proud of those too

What are your writing weaknesses? i have never once said anything in six words when i could say them in six hundred million billion instead

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? obviously i've experimented in various projects, but i am fundamentally kind of lazy and prefer to sprinkle in a few words here and there instead of spending the time to learn about another language's grammar structure

First fandom you wrote for? the first fandom i published anything in was eragon, way back in the day! the first fandom i wrote for was his dark materials, in a composition notebook in like the fifth or sixth grade!

Favorite fic you’ve written? could not possibly pic! they are all like my children and also my therapist.

i'm tagging @meyerlansky and anybody else who wants to participate! consider yourself invited!

[magic-pistachio]

[image description: digital painting of the face of a yellow and orange wolf with sky-blue eyes and white pupils. its mouth is slightly open, and its tongue is blue. it has a white sun marking on its forehead. the background is a blue and cloudy sky.]

when i was a kid i was OBSESSED with the concept of elemental wolves (probably from pinterest). i had like so many composite notebooks filled with stories n drawings. here's a sun wolf. i think he was one of the 2 god/kings/something.

[incoming corny art + childhood + social anxiety + etc musings below]

sometimes i get sad bc the type of art that i've specialized in (bc of my interests from ages 12-18) is not the type of art i now feel so particularly called to do--i'm not really sure what art i want to do.

but then i think about me, a 12 year old, drawing ''elemental wolves'' in my school notes. whose interests (and perhaps overall demeanor) sometimes drew barriers between my peers. and then now! i'm sure 12 year old me would've been a huge fan of 23(nearly 24) year old me's work. and now, though i lost some enthusiasm for the interests of my youth, i have friends who let me monologue at them about warrior cats, or dogs, or those things that i fixated on in the years i was alone. and some of these friends are family members, with whom my relationship has grown deeper over the years, but some are people i met only just last year! and im only 23!! im gonna know more people and make more art for 12 year old me to be proud of !!!!

anyways. just go with the flow. make art as it occurs to you.

[n3wt0n-5]

Wednesday fill for

“The Orange Corvette”.

Thanks for the request @wizisbored @quietly-sleeping @enigma-the-mysterious @zyrafowe-sny @eriquin @somefishycat @whimsicalmeerkat @twyrewolf @asha10100101010 @kallisto-k @auburnlaughter @aparticularbandit @hurricanebreeze @tiercell @tamsinswriting @adhdavinci @post-and-out @stonemaskedtaliesin it’s been incredibly motivating. I hope you enjoy the extra sentences.

“Um, I guess when your boyfriend blames you for his cheating because he thinks you’re “boring and unadventurous” you kinda want to prove him wrong.” Pran can still feel the burn of humiliation as he thinks back to the last conversation he had with his ex before Pran threw him out of his apartment.

“He said that?”

“Yeah.”

“What an asshole,” Pat exclaims. “How dare he? If I ever get my hands on him, I’ll—”

A little ember of warmth ignites in Pran’s chest at how furious Pat sounds. He’d forgotten how protective Pat could be. It’s like he’d go to war for Pran to defend his honour.

“I know, right? As if it was all my fault he was unable to keep his dick in his pants.”

“Ouch,” Pat says, twisting in his seat until he’s facing Pran, his eyes are warm and caring. “That’s gotta hurt. Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” Pran isn’t heartbroken that it ended, he’s just a little bitter that he wasted so much of his time and energy on such a lowlife—and yeah, the cheating thing still smarts.

“I mean seriously Pran, you’re far from boring. In fact you’re the most fun and interesting person I know.”

Pran snorts in disbelief. “You don’t have to blow smoke Pat—“

“I’m not, I swear, when have I ever lied to you?” Pat’s eyes are big and round as he stares at Pran.

“Hmm.” It’s true. There are many criticisms that Pran could level at Pat. He can be loud and obnoxious with only a minimal grasp on how to do basic chores like laundry. But he’s also kind and generous to a fault and, despite their endless disagreements and bickering, not once has Pran ever known Pat to lie to him, not about the things that matter. In fact it’s always been the opposite with Pat being too honest when sharing his often unsolicited opinions with Pran.

“You know, I was in such awe of you back in high school,” Pat admits quietly, and the confession bores its way through Pran’s ribcage and sets up residence in his chest.

Pran starts to laugh. “That’s not how I remember it,” he says thinking back to all the teasing he’d suffered at Pat’s hands.

“You might not believe me but it’s true,” Pat insists, nodding his head vigorously and a stray lock of black hair breaks free from the product holding it, and it falls over his forehead. Pran contemplates reaching out and brushing it back. “You had such a cool aura about you and could play guitar. Plus, you wrote that amazing song. I wanted to be just like you, I just didn’t know how to show it.”

“Well you played drums like a rock star and if you remember we wrote the song together.”

“Yeah, if you call me, signing my name in your notebook and claiming half the credit, as us writing it together.”

They’re both laughing now and warmth spreads across Pran’s chest. He can picture the two of them like it was yesterday. They were fifteen and Pat was helping him with his original song composition for their school’s music club Christmas concert. They’d taken it so seriously they’d even put their rivalry to one side while they worked on it. Their lunch breaks were spent at one of the outdoor tables huddled around Pran’s guitar, talking about music and bands and gradually the song took shape.

The lyrics he’d written were a confession of sorts, about feelings changing and wanting to be more than just friends and at times Pran wondered if Pat understood. Sometimes he’d catch Pat looking at him in a way that made him think that maybe, just maybe, Pat also wanted more. But if he did, he didn’t say anything and Pran was too scared to make his confession even more obvious.

The concert itself had been an adrenaline rush, performing their song on stage. Pat behind him on the drums.The happy smiles they’d shared whenever Pran turned to look back at him made everything seem possible, even Pat returning his feelings. Pran wanted to preserve the moment like a beetle encased in amber, and wear it like a pendant nestled close to his heart.

To his regret, he got exactly what he wanted when his parents interrupted the performance, and he was transferred to boarding school soon after. He got a memory he would carry with him forever, one he would forever try to forget.

Pran can see the moment Pat remembers how the concert ended from the way his face falls and he stops laughing. Pran stops laughing too.

“I’m sorry Pran,” Pat says. “I never meant for any of it to happen the way it did. The concert, you being transferred, everything, it was all my fault.”

Pat said the same thing to him years after the incident, when they crossed paths as freshmen at university. But to hear that Pat still blames himself for what happened, even though it wasn’t his fault, made sadness tug at Pran that Pat is still carrying around so much guilt.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and placing his hand lightly on Pat’s thigh. “Me being transferred wasn’t your fault. I think my Mum was looking for a reason to send me away and the concert was the perfect excuse. Sure, I was angry with her and you at first, but I made peace with what happened a long time ago.” Sometimes he wishes he had been able to hate Pat for what happened, it might have been an easier emotion to deal with.

Although Pran suffered worse in the fallout from the Christmas concert, he couldn’t help but think in some ways he had it easier than Pat, he’d had a fresh start. The school he’d been transferred to was a good one and he’d made some lasting friendships. Once there and there was no Pat to compare him to, the pressure from his parents had eased. He had the space and freedom to find himself without the eyes of his parents constantly on him.

Of course he’d missed Pat, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t, but being removed from seeing him everyday where every facet of their lives was intertwined, made the absence a little less painful. It only got really bad when he was lying alone in bed at night, feeling sorry for himself, the idiot who‘d caught feelings.

“Thanks,” Pat replies, covering Pran’s hand before he can retract it and giving it a gentle squeeze. Pran can feel the pressure and warmth long after Pat lets go.

It’s the longest conversation they’ve had in years and Pran feels lighter for it. Like they can finally move on from that incident that had such an impact on their lives.

[misterradio]

my favourite peice of lost media that i want to be found IS my animal jam fan comic that spanned many pages and i dont remember what plot point i was working towards but i jsut stopped making it one day and i think i burned it bc i was filled with embarassment. OOPS

edit: for the curious i will describe it ::-]

One thing I did in the comic that I think is fun is I was combining a lot of game mechanics into the story ::-)

The comic started with my monkey player character (creature cleverclaws) in the tutorial stage given by Liza at the Mira statue. (By now theyve changed the tutorial up so much i dont know what it is anymore... this was cgi liza not the 2d one).

Liza is interrupted by a falling phantom that crash lands next to them and has to leave on urgent business! but creature decides to do their own snooping around in the area, and rather than enter the town visits some woods on the other side of the statue where there are phantoms hiding. creature is initially captured but thinks the phantoms are cool and would love to join them ::-) the last thing i remember them doing was facing a huge cave where the phantom king (which was never revealed at this point, but i had sketches of what he might look like) was hiding in.

meanwhile after liza left, she enters the run down door in the Temple of Zios (which became the adventure base camp), this is a secret entrance to the alpha headquarters where they are all hanging out ::-) they discuss the growing numbers of phantoms and how they may combat them.... sir gilbert is very strategic and war-experienced but greely is argumentative and standoffish. (i will always maintain that greely has some weird evil thing going on for real.) umm i dont remember what other alphas do tbh.

liza goes back to the mira statue and finds that creature is gone and doesnt know what to do...

and it is at this point that i don't remember if i carried this on at all.

dog may remember this but there's a page from an unrelated animal jam coming of the shamans / alphas going to war with phantoms, i think peck charges forward but it injured, and all the other alphas charge forward in retaliation.... it was very Le Epic if i may say...

this was all drawn in a composition notebook so god knows how i managed to even rip them out to destroy them @__@ okay bye

[birdy-the-tweet]

❄️•Nexocember•❄️

Day 4 - Tech

I’m starting to really enjoy these writing prompts and the consistency of their release. Sorry for missing yesterday; I was exhausted and couldn’t come up with anything, and even now I can’t really decide on a good story for this one. Which is why I’ve decided to instead share a snippet from Nexo Knights S1 E1! It’s got a perfect scenario just for this prompt, so I hope you enjoy!

————————————————————————

Time Stamp: S1 E1 - The Book of Monsters Pt. 1

Once Clay realized the collisions of metal and hologram were ahead of him and drawing closer, he abandoned his reliance on the signs and quickened his pace to the only room with light illuminating faintly through its translucent doors, farthest door to the right he put together. He didn’t need to open it to know his companion was on the other side, but he hadn’t gone searching for him just to cement a theory. Welding his pride to the back of his head and plastering his best “relaxed” smile, he tapped a sensor panel on the wall and didn’t have to wait long for the double doors to slide downward into the floor.

The Fabricator was one of a few machines only certain places in Knightonia had access to due to its complexity and intake of power. He was proud they had even one in the academy; it made training more versatile and flexible to each knight’s resumé of presented skills. It was a large, slightly noisy machine, first invented twenty years prior by a team of academy mechanics who wanted to reduce the amount of wooden dummies and demolished sets of armor being thrown into digitization scanners. Knights could upload a 3D model of any object or enemy program of their choice, and the device’s RAM would fabricate it into a pixelated hologram solid enough to be damaged and destroyed without harming anything truly physical. If it was a more complex array of coding clipped onto a model, it would analyze the commands and play it accordingly until the hologram is destroyed. He didn’t want to think about all the times he begged Ava to design monster models for the machine they had on campus. One of his composition notebooks was filled to the brim with sketched-out ideas and lists for functions.

Within this room, the ones that had been summoned were flocks of agile primates that used relatively short wings to hover and shield themselves from attacks. Skyslicer chimps, nasty creatures in the southeast whose teeth could crunch through stone and acute climbing skills fit for scaling the hazardous Stormscrapers. Just one of them possessed the mischievous spirit and strong arm to throw travelers off the cliffs, but a swarm of them spelled trouble for even the mightiest of knights. It came to no surprise there were models of these in the Fabricator, nor did it shock him they were chosen for training.

One by one, they circled around a single figure, a hulking humanoid that stood well over seven feet tall and completely unarmed. Yet it didn’t stop him from taking a defensive stance and swerving around each slash of their claws easily. Their unpredictability added a preferred challenge to the evasive maneuvers he took, feet sliding across smooth metal flooring as if lathered in grease. It was more like an improvised dance than it was a dangerous game against the odds, a performance Clay couldn’t admit was pleasing to watch.

A primate perched on a parked hover horse stole an opportunity to glide into the scene from behind the training knight and land a strike against the spine, but the last thing it would see was a single side glare from within the mask of the man. Halting the assault at the last second, he swiveled on his heel and struck his fist square into the chest of the smaller beast, and it dissipated into a flurry of pixelated pieces. A cry of disapproval rang through the troupe of chimps after the fall of their colleague. Many slammed their fists on the ground or snarled at the martial fighter for his success, hostility only responded to with even more violence.

While a smaller monster was still gawking at the horror they would have to live with, its agony was silenced as the knight rushed forward at bone chilling speed and punched straight through the skeleton animation of its design. Only when two more were taken down in a similar fashion did the enemies realize they couldn’t sit around any further, but even that hardly saved them from their inevitable fates. A pair was grabbed by their prehensile tails and slammed into each other with the force of an armored truck. A third would be seeing stars for the next week after an elbow to the chest and a fist to the face. Another ate the heel of his steel plated boot and disintegrated instantly from the cold taste of defeat. And the rest, well, they were all vanquished in a similar manner to the rest: quick and simple.

The last one’s data returned like a gust of wind into the vacuum of the Fabricator, and the screen displayed a checkmark signaling the end of the program. Straightening himself from his fighting position and flexing gloved fingers, the masked knight contemplated starting another round of combat with the machine in what little time he had remaining. His armor was mostly donned save for the breastplate and his choice of weapons. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to secure both in his custody and server connection. But as he marched lazily to the machine, his thought process was interrupted by another pair of feet approaching from his left.

Clay, graced with his first genuine smile of the evening, tucked his hands politely behind his back in the presence of a folk hero. “Hey Dauntless.”

“Clay. Pleasure as always, old friend.” It never failed to amuse him how awestruck the Cobalt Knight would always appear after mere, measly moments of observing an independent training segment with code. His eyes were like Christmas lights the day after Thanksgiving, jolly and warm for the arrival of the higher god that was St. Nicholas.

Upon arrival at the Fabricator, Dauntless switched the power off and made sure its digital cord was disconnected from the outlet in the wall. The thread of golden light slithered back into the base of the machine, and a final purr died down into blissful silence only seconds after. The other knight saw it as his chance to resume conversation. Or, well, start it to begin with. “I trust you’re ready for the Battlebration tonight?”

“Well I must be, now shouldn’t I? It would be pretty embarrassing if I wasn’t, don’t you know,” the masked knight mused to himself mostly. He relied on the ancient piece of training equipment to support his weight in the minute he would spend planted in place, a foot nestled against its side as he folded his arms nonchalantly over his chest. “And you?”

The vex laced in the brunette’s heavy breath spoke greater than his next words. “I sure hope so. I had a whole spreadsheet made this morning so everyone would have a layout of what they should present at the ceremony, but… Lance broke the tablet.”

“Really,” buzzed his sardonic smirk. “Sounds to me he broke more than just that.”

He’d be right. Clay’s disgruntled pout only seasoned the flavor of his triumph, childish enough to spark a laugh off the larger male’s chest. “That’s beyond the point.”

“No but I sure am right, aren’t I?”

“Ugh- look.” He clawed the air and strangled an invisible Lance between his palms. “I just need everyone to concentrate today. That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, among the other fifteen things you’ve asked for this week.”

“Dauntless.”

“What. I’m right,” he reminded the swordsman. “You can’t expect everything to be perfect, you know. Every knight has their own definition of that.”

“Yes, I know. But for today, at least today, I just want things to go according to plan. So far Lance hasn’t even shown a grain of care for the ceremony.”

“He cares.”

“Tell that to the tablet.”

Dauntless rattled a tinge of irritation off his head like a maraca. “Clay, do understand. Half of your classmates could care less about the knighting itself. This has been a tradition that’s persisted in Knightonia for centuries, long before even technology was a thing. And while it is a treasured event in the lives of the people, it is all but routine as well. A display in the late afternoon followed by the knighting, a break for everyone to eat and prepare for the evening, and a performance of battle at the crack of dusk. It hasn’t changed in… I don’t even want to know how long. Longer than I’ve been around, sheesh…”

“So what does that say about your age, grandpa-”

“Not important.” He hoisted himself off the Fabricator and made his way over to where Clay stood, dwarfing him within seconds. “The point is, it doesn’t have to be perfect, and neither should you. Your education as a knight does not end once you walk out those gates. Field work is the most extensive, pain-staking form of study to any student no matter their age or expertise. Your real celebration will commence the moment you realize that. So today… Just focus on what you’ve learned so far, and don’t obsess so much over being flawless. Nobody likes a walking statue.”

Though the swordsman listened like a groundhog to the first mourning dove of spring, his eyes were stitched in a furrowed pattern across his troubled face. “And the others-”

“So what? The other classmates have a tendency to act on their own accord. Don’t worry about it. Focus on your own performance and your ability to adapt to whatever chaos happens out there. I trust you know how to do that.”

“...yeah, I do. I can do that at least.” Clay could never find the right words to thank the traveling warrior for his skill of words and wistful perception, not even if it took him a thousand years to formulate a thesis around his wisdom. He already wasted four of those years dragging himself into this same ballroom waltz over and over again, rushing to Dauntless for advice and never knowing how to return the favor. The masked man had years – in theory – of experience as a helping hand and protector of the realm without the need for a Nexo shield, and he offered his accelerated education of the world and its lessons freely like a guest speaker in a school assembly. And yet, he couldn’t ever do the same for him, or perhaps it was never needed. He couldn’t tell anymore.

“Good. Now then, now that you mention the others,” the Hooded Knight drawled, the optics of his mask drifting like dandelion fluff to the door. “Where are they, Macy and Lance?”

He’d much rather chew his own hand off than answer that. With a gruff groan that strained his throat, he dragged himself to an aimless waltz around a ten foot diameter in front of the other. “Macy’s still dealing with her parents, I think. She’s been arguing with them all morning about the battlebration, and I don’t think I need to know the finer details after the seven dozen angry messages she’s sent me all day, all in caps.”

“Will she be able to graduate?”

“Oh I hope so.

[love-kurdt]

Beat You to the Phone (steddie)

@cosmos-lore asked: 40 steddie

Prompt: “I want a baby.”

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: homophobic slurs, grooming (in the context of eddie’s parents), parent death, parental abuse and trauma

A/N: i hope this is what u wanted! i took this in the angst/fluff route. for all my other readers who have sent in asks, fear not! i’m working on all of them as we speak. they’ll be rolling out soon, slowly but surely.

For as long as he could remember, Eddie Munson had sworn to himself that he would never, ever become a father. It wasn’t in his blood. It made sense, since his own dad didn’t have a cell of paternal instinct in his body, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Charles Lancaster had never been a good man, let alone a good parent. After all, he had met sixteen year old Marie Munson when he was twenty-five. He groomed and brainwashed her into thinking that she loved him before knocking her up. After Eddie was born, he was barely present, citing work as his reason for being an absent father.

The first five years of Eddie’s childhood were good. He never went without, and always felt safe. His mom was an angel on earth. She was the one who bought Eddie his first guitar, and taught him “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles for his first tune. She was the one who brought Eddie to have picnics in the park, with peanut butter and honey sandwiches. She was the one who’d tuck him in at night, say a short prayer, and kiss him on the forehead. She was always there for him, until she wasn’t. He had found Marie dead on the bathroom floor after his first day of kindergarten, and it was all downhill from there.

Charles had been selling drugs to keep himself (and Eddie, of course, how could he ever forget) afloat. It wasn’t long before he got caught carrying copious amounts of cocaine over state lines and was sent to prison, meanwhile Eddie was on the brink of being registered into the foster care system. That was, until Wayne Munson swooped in and saved the day. Or rather, saved Eddie’s entire future.

Wayne hated the phrase, “like his own.” He did not raise Eddie “like his own,” or love Eddie “like his own.” He raised and loved Eddie as his own. He saw his nephew as a son. From the first day that little Eddie ran into the trailer, stood still for a moment, then ran right back to Wayne to jump into his arms squealing, “Thank you Unc’o Wayne,” Wayne knew that he’d made the best decision of his life.

He watched Eddie grow up. Eddie became fascinated with fantasy and mythology, and Wayne watched him spend hours upon hours creating characters for that dungeons game he was always talking about. He watched Eddie play his acoustic guitar, scribbling lyrics into his marble composition notebook. Wayne always felt as if he was looking right at his sister whenever Eddie would play. He watched Eddie approach the trailer with a black eye, asking Wayne what a “faggot” was. They had a long talk that night, filled with hot cocoa and tears.

Years later, in 1986, he watched police carry a girl (Chrissy, they called her) out of his home who looked like she’d been tossed off a cliff. He watched the entire town lose its collective mind and accuse his nephew, his son, of murdering that poor girl. He watched Eddie return home, half dead, carried on the back of a kid with the most terrified look on his face, as if he were to say, “I need him alive just as much as you do.”

He watched as Eddie brought that same kid home one sunny day in 1987, and his suspicions were right on the money. His name was Steve, Steve Harrington, and he had the tallest hair that Wayne had ever seen. “He’s my boyfriend, and I love him,” Eddie had said. Wayne could have been skeptical; after all, he was a Harrington, but he had saved Eddie's life. And for that, he loved him too. He didn’t even hesitate to say yes when Steve was kicked out of his parents' home for his sexuality.

Though they were young, they got married in a small ceremony in the company of friends and family in May of 1989. Eddie and Steve moved into their own trailer, right next to Wayne. That way, he was close by if they needed anything, and could also maintain some sense of safety for his nephew and his illegal husband.

The topic of grandkids was never really discussed. Wayne knew how adamant Eddie was about not turning up like his father, and if not having kids was part of that vow, then so be it. He respected that. However, Wayne had absolutely no idea about the conversation that was happening next door.

—

“I want a baby,” Eddie heard Steve whisper in his ear. They’d been cuddling that morning for the past half hour and Eddie was just about to fall back asleep. His eyes snapped open at what his husband had just suggested.

“Jesus H. Christ, Steve, warn a person!” he turned around from his little spoon position to face Steve, who was blushing red and removing his hands from Eddie’s waist to cover his face in embarrassment.

“Shit, I should have prefaced it or something,” he shook his head. “Sorry. It’s not like it could actually happen anyway, because… well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie chuckled, reaching up to caress Steve’s cheek with his cold rings, which he knew he loved. He leaned into the touch as Eddie continued, “And that’s kind of a blessing in itself, because I honestly don’t want kids.”

Now it was Steve’s turn for his eyes to snap open. “But like, you know I’ve always wanted a family. And I want it with you. I want to have it all, the six kids in a Winnebago, the dog and cat, the whole nine yards.” Steve rolled away on the bed, laying on his back, leaving Eddie feeling colder than before. “And I swear to god, ever since Nance and Jonathan had Austin, I’ve had the worst baby fever that any man has ever had”

Of course Steve was jealous of Nancy and Jonathan. Who wouldn’t? They’d rekindled their relationship over the winter break of Nancy’s sophomore year at Emerson, and she wound up getting pregnant after one time of having sex before going back to school. But she persevered through school and endured the pregnancy, because she and Jonathan both wanted to start a family, even if she was only twenty and Jonathan was twenty one. Both of their families had been extremely supportive and accepting as well, which made things even harder for Steve to watch, because, why couldn’t he have that? Oh, right, because he was gay, and now because his husband didn’t want children.

“And you think I haven’t had it too?” Eddie sat up, running his fingers through his messy hair and looking down at Steve, whose face implied shock. “Believe me, I have! Do you know how much I want to be the dad I never had?” Eddie’s voice got wobbly. “To teach them D&D and guitar, to make funny voices for every single one of their stuffed animals, to make ring-o-noodle soup when they’re under the weather, to watch them standing backstage at one of my shows when they’re old enough?”

He cleared his throat before continuing. He could not cry. Not over this. “I want that more than anything! But what you don’t know is how sick to my stomach that makes me feel. The thought of me, Eddie Munson, as a fucking father? No way! It’s not in my genes, man.”

Steve sat up now, scooching towards Eddie and pulling him into his chest. Eddie obliged, because he could never resist Steve’s chest hair. It should have been illegal. “Well, man, will you maybe at least think about it?” Eddie shook his head and went to talk, but Steve spoke again, “It doesn’t even have to be through surrogacy, so it wouldn’t be biological if that’s what you’re worried about. I found this adoption agency in New York that just opened their doors to same sex couples—”

Steve was desperate. Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “No. I can’t. I just… it’s a whole thing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Steve exhaled into Eddie’s hair, pulling him closer and squeezing his heavily tattooed bicep. “We can revisit this ‘whole thing’ another time.”

At that, Eddie pulled away once more, standing up next to the bed and looking down at his lover with disdain. “I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying. I don’t want a kid, I will never want a kid.” He paced for a few moments. “I can’t end up like my dad. He already haunts me, and he’s in fucking prison.”

“But you aren’t your dad!” Steve protested. “I for one think you’d be a great one! You’re so good with the teens.”

“Yeah, because I’m their dungeon master,” Eddie laughed incredulously, “I’m not feeding, clothing, and tucking them into bed every night.”

“Baby,” Steve said, standing up to join Eddie on his side of the room, “I know you’re scared, and I know you’re hesitant to even consider the thought of being a dad, but this is… fuck, this is everything I’ve ever wanted.” He took Eddie’s left hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the black band on his ring finger. He heard the familiar clinking of metal against metal when his silver band collided with Eddie’s. “I lost my parents, and regardless of how shitty they were, they were still family. I lost the house, which was supposed to be in my name until I came out to them. And I lost my reputation, which I’ve been working for years to improve.”

Eddie dropped Steve’s hand, taking a step back. “Why, because King Steve can’t reign over his kingdom if he’s a fag, right?”

“King Steve died the moment Dustin dragged me back to my car in 1984, you know that,” Steve snapped. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”

“…But you thought about it,” Eddie replied in a deeper tone than usual that made Steve’s skin crawl.

“No, I—” he threw his hands up in the air, “I mean that I’m tired of sacrificing! Jesus, Munson, I gave up everything for you! The least you could do is put your feelings aside for this one thing!”

“Like I said, Munson,” Eddie retorted, their shared last name rolling off his tongue with fire, “I cannot, and will not change my mind about this. I am not fit to be a father, and to be honest, I don’t think you’re meant to be one either.” Eddie finally broke, feeling a tear run down his face.

“How can you say that to me?” Steve crossed his arms against his chest. “You’re just projecting your own insecurity onto me. That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it, though? If you’re so upset about making sacrifices, good luck having kids. Because that’s what parenthood is alllll about. You put your own ambitions aside and support your kids through everything. You give them what they need, and even if you can’t, you find a way,” Eddie let out a choked sob, not even caring at this point. “You find a way, because your kids are not supposed to do it themselves. They’re supposed to be happy, carefree, stupid, funny, ignorant little shits who just want to be loved.” His heart was breaking with every sentence he spoke and the walls he’d constructed to protect himself were now crumbling to the ground. “No kid deserves to find their dead mom at home with her eyes still open. Steve, I see her eyes all the fucking time. They were bloodshot. I can’t listen to the Beatles, not because I hate them like I told you, but because my mom taught me all of their songs on the guitar and I can’t bear to hear them. I still feel the metal shears against my head from when my dad shaved it, telling me to ‘man up, I didn’t raise a fairy.’ I remember the way my dad would lose his temper and beat me until I passed out. I don’t want my past to affect how I would raise them. Like, what if I get angry and hit my own child? What if I make rash decisions and end up causing more harm and trauma than good? I’m absolutely terrified of being the antagonist in my kid’s life. And I’m absolutely terrified that you’re going to leave me for someone who can give you what I can’t.”

Steve’s expression softened, feeling absolutely horrible. He slowly moved back towards Eddie, who was trying his hardest to stop the flow of tears, but it wasn’t working. When Steve pulled him in for a hug, Eddie didn’t even object. He cried and cried into Steve’s shoulder, grasping onto the back of Steve’s shirt for dear life.

“I’m so, so sorry, my love,” Steve pulled back the slightest bit and kissed Eddie’s temple. “It’s okay, I understand. We don’t have to have kids. It’s okay, I was being selfish and wasn’t willing to listen to your side. I’m sorry.”

Eddie only shook his head. “No, you’re right. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, and I don’t want something like this to cause me to lose you.”

“You could never lose me, even if you tried,” Steve replied, to which Eddie barked out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Robin literally got us shirts that say ‘If found please return to Eddie’ and ‘I’m Eddie.’”

Steve pulled back and held Eddie’s face in his hands, wiping the stray tears off his cheeks. “We really are meant for each other, aren’t we?” he asked. “I can be okay with just us two. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Eddie replied, and leaned forward to kiss Steve. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck as Steve’s met his waist, pulling him in closer. Steve swiped his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip, and he let him in, gasping for air while Steve let out a low moan. Eddie tugged at Steve’s hair, making him pull his head back from Eddie’s, feigning a pout.

“Eds… lemmemakeoutwithyou,” Steve whined, going to kiss Eddie again, but was stopped with a bony hand on his sternum.

“Before things go any further, I… I think we could maybe give that adoption agency a call.” Eddie said, and Steve’s eyes widened.

“Are you serious? Like, I don’t want you to do something you were very much against barely ten minutes ago. But if you are serious… can we?”

Eddie smirked, twirling a piece of Steve’s hair at the nape of his neck. “Beat you to the phone.”

[quip-and-titter]

A neat idea that others might want to try. If you're someone who doodles in margins, sticky notes, and flashcards a lot, and you find yourself keeping papers you don't need because of it, or lose track of your art progress because you weren't drawing in sketchbooks, I started doing this thing where I cut out the drawings and put them in an old composition notebook as an art scrapbook. You can organize it however you want, by date, by category, by color. I made mine with just the goal of filling as much of the page as possible. I'd highly recommend it, the results are very satisfying and it's a great idle activity to do while watching a show or something.

[kopivie]

y'know, it's kinda funny that i asked myself why i write. over the years, people have asked me that a lot. i've had graded assignments ask me that question quite a bit. "why do you write? what is your motivation for writing?"

...my answers were always pretty bleak. "i write because i'm scared to talk to others." or: "i write because nobody will listen to me." and outside of those assignments, i've never genuinely asked myself why i write.

well.. warning for a big ol' dump here, i guess. this blog is basically a diary, so you know the drill.

the story always starts in the same place: in the back of the empty sanctuary of my childhood church with sunlight pouring in the stained glass windows, the colors pooling on the pages of my blue composition notebook. i was ten years old.

looking back on it now, i don't know why my story starts there. i think that's just the earliest time i can remember getting immersed in the act of writing. kind of like how people describe their earliest childhood memory as the day their consciousness fully developed. but that day was so colorful to me – more so than most days from my childhood. an old friend was plinking tv show tunes on the piano at the front of the sanctuary, a few older kids were chatting away in the frontmost pews, and i was standing at the back on the left side near the window, scribbling in my notebook about... magical girl anime. at the very least, i know why i was writing back then.

back then, i had a friend who was writing her own story. completely original with characters she was drawing as she went. the stories were written in screenplay format in her notebook with little doodles to give the stories some life and... i wanted to do that. i asked her to teach me how to draw – which she did with enthusiasm – but what intrigued me more was the writing aspect. i already had a habit of conjuring up vivid imagery in my head when reading, but the thought of being able to do that myself was amazing to me.

my ten year old brain lacked the creativity to create characters from scratch. naturally, i had to start with something i already loved – something i could easily reference and build up from there – so i started with sailor moon.

sailor moon, tokyo mew mew, pripara, pretty rhythm: aurora dream, precure... (all of which used to be uploaded to youtube with each episode fragmented into three parts, i might add.) ...that's where my writing journey begins. i used to write fanfiction in the same screenplay format. i filled several notebooks cover to cover with my big, messy handwriting. i wish i still had those notebooks. but the point is that i had no need for the artwork – my mind was enough.

i later developed a love for mythology – greek mythology, specifically. it expanded into astrology, anthology, and gemology... i would always weave these things into my works somehow. my love of linguistics would come into play as i'd learn languages and cultures just to use them for the sake of giving my writing more depth.

now that i'm looking back on all of this, i... don't think i ever had a purpose. when i began, i wanted to be like my friend. i wanted to show her that i could do it, too. later, i just wrote because i wanted to create characters in the animated worlds that i loved to lose myself in; it was a form of escapism, i think. it was definitely escapism from high school onward since my mental health worsened from 2017-2022, but before that.. there's nothing.

which is a little scary, y'know? realizing that i lack a purpose – that my writing lacks a purpose. the very hobby i decided to dedicate my future to feels meaningless now.

i wrote to replicate someone else. i wrote to escape my own thoughts; i wrote to comfort myself when i needed affection the most: i wrote to comfort and connect with others, but i also wrote to shield myself from my own reality.

i think the reason why this feeling of existential dread exists is because i'm finally in a place where i'm perceiving myself. for almost a decade now, i didn't want to be perceived by anybody, much less myself. i didn't think of myself as a person. i didn't exist. i was just some worthless lump of meat on this doomed earth who just so happened to know how to string words together. i was irreversibly flawed and unlovable.

i'm at a point where i now know what kind of person i am. i can look back on how broken i once was and be saddened by the pieces. i can finally pick up those pieces and put them together; i can set them aside and start anew using those pieces as a reference. what i'm saying is: i can see myself. i finally know what i look like. (i still don't understand how i look to others, but that's besides the point.)

but when my whole purpose for writing was to avoid that – to avoid seeing myself – what happens now? why do i write?

that's the reason why i haven't written about anything for a while now. i have nothing to hide from. i wither and rot for a few days at a time and then come out stronger, ready to brush it all away and move forward. i never did that before. before, i would wither and rot for months, and write to fill the void. i wrote recklessly and without abandon just to get my feelings out there in hopes that someone would hear my voice and know that i'm alive.

in essence, i saved my life through writing. literature saved my life. but now that i've taken the reins, i don't know what to do.

i refuse to leave it behind. i still have my creative spirit. i still have these passing ideas, these bursts of inspiration that characterized my teenage years. but the flames of passion die quickly without any kindling, leaving me lost. i feel hollow without writing but lighter without my agony weighing me down all the time.

...i'm lost. i don't know what to do. i'm more insecure in my writing than i have ever been in my entire life, and that scares me. i want to try, but there's this... block. a lack of emotion that i can't quite explain. there's more apprehension than there is inspiration, so my creativity shrivels up and dies, leaving me disgusted and horrified by myself. i don't know what to do.

i'm not going to give up.

i'm not. little by little, i will try to find my new meaning. i don't know what it will take for me to find it, but i will. maybe i'll just sit and do some research on my favorite topics when i get home? do some bullet journaling on my favorite things and dedicate time to making pages of my favorite facts. maybe something will blossom then.

[paintcloset]

Event Work

The original idea for this work came from thinking about how to display work with limited wall space but still wanting to work on a large format.

What I had come up with is diplaying a lot of little pictures on the floor, and then having to get up on a lader and looking down on the piece to view it properly.

This set up is inspired by a secret project that I can only talk about briefly for the sake of context. The project involves polaroids, and the way i would set them up and look at them as one was in this grid pattern. That project is partially inspired by Emma Bee Bernstein, EXQUISITE FUCKING BOREDOM

It's a collection of polaroids of her and her friends, exploring coming-of-age adulthood, and the theatrics, pretend, and self-consciousness of it all. This work was introduced to me by my university application advisor when I was working on one of the WdKA home assignments, Selfies specifically. I still think about her work often.

I also got the idea from layouts of calendars. I sent this particular photo to the group chat I have with my friends, to demonstrate how many people and for how long will be staying with me in November.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trey Abdella (@mysticfishstick)

When starting to think of the logistics and dynamics of this idea, I also remembered work that I previously saw on instagram by Trey Abdella, the idea of transparency andsee-throughh objects behind the original painting if paid close attention. I also really like the idea of incorperating a portrait as something more than just a portrait.

From that point, I started thinking and developing the idea for the piece "Time well spent/I hope this hurts". The idea was to capture the feeling I often feel when I have friends and loved ones visiting me here. I hurts when they leave no matter how much or how often it happens. I remember the first time my dad visited me here and I walked him to the tram stop to send him on the way, when I came back to my room I felt like an abandoned child, even though we had a great few days together and I'd be seeing him soon anyways. I sobbed that day on the inflatable mattress that he was staying on. I couldn't bear to deflate it for a couple of days.

Last evening I accompanied my friend all the way to Rotterdam Central from my place so she would not get lost and started crying saying good bye to her, even though we will see each other very soon in December anyways.

That's my reasoning for the title, "Time well spent/I hope this hurts". To me, if it hurts so much for me when someone leaves, it means they're important enough for my body to mourn over them. It's almost like I don't have object permanence, and in my head every time someone leaves they die again in my eyes. Basically I'm like a dog with seperation anxiety.

I started playing with composition in my notebook. I thought about filling the squares with photos/memories that I made that day with my friends, and to have those memories make up the portrait of me.

Trying to demonstrate that with color. Also trying to think how to logistically execute it.

Color overlap

Technical experimentation. There's a big buts and ifs for me about how big the squares really should be and which layer the portrain should be and which layer the people memories should be on. And how to actually show and execute the people memories.

I wish we had just one teacher who would help with logistical execution. Every time I try to talk to a teacher about it I hear the same advice "Well it sounds like you've thought it through already, I think you should just start!" No. That's not how I function or operate. So a lot of this project is just me thinking about how to execute it. Also, next time I hear that advice I will start committing unspeakable evil. I'm seriously at my fucking limit. If you're reading this and you've given me this advice reconsider your life choices. You're being vague and unhelpful.

Talking about it with friends tho i came up with a couple ideas. I was thinking of painting the portrait on a piece of paper that goes behind and then cut squares into a canvas. Charlie brought up the fact that cutting squares, depending on the size and distance from eachother, may weaken the structure of the canvas to no longer hold. But by using the canvas, I would be able to cut a corner and make the work more presentable looking without much effort. Say what you want but a painting with just painted edges already can look quite finished.

But now I'm thinking of going back just to paper. Using paper, and different kinds of it, can give a fragile sense to the painting which would aid in the illustration of the delicate feeling I'm trying to put in the painting.

Testing potential size and closesness and overlap.

Now that I, more or less know what to do with the portrait since I've painted a test one, I had to start thinkign how to actually capture my friends in the painting. I didnt want to paint individual memory frames anymore. Seemed kinda boring, I dont have enough pictures or patience for it. But thinking about how to incorperate parts of everyone to make a larger sum. The same way Im basically a museum of all the things I like about my friends. I though about potentially having a call back to "Vert Hands", which is a series of painings done in ink using refrences of my friend's hands.

But now I'm leaning more towards the idea of using text on this outer square layer. I'm trying to write a text about how my friends are my organs and when they're gone I can feel that something integral about me is missing. But I think it kinda sounds like shit. I don't know. Sounds cliche and stupid.

"My loved ones are my organs. When you look at me you may not see how they help me live and breath. My kidneys and lungs. When you're not here I can feel the empty space inside me where you belong. I know I won't bleed out but I can feel hole inside me when I move. I can't help it. I know I can live without you like I can live without my spleen but dear God do I miss you when you're not here. I miss you. Thank you for being here when you are"

I am now trying to assemble the first piece of the puzzle, the portrait, my portrait. Doute is the only thing I feel about it. I think now the composition looks overdone and cliche. I cant muster up the courage to take the leap and keep going. I dont know what to do with myself.

Due to my Curatorial position for the event and my micromanaging mechanism, I've also taken an organizational role. My personal work has taken a backseat, even though its involvement with the event is important, it no longer feels so. My work doesn't belong in a community center, which is something I've stated over and over again. I had a maddening conversation about it with Jack. He kept saying that it's a good way to see what you want and don't want from your career. Is this not then a waste of time if I already know it's not something I want to do? This isn't a challenge for me to rise to, this is the mental equivalent of running my body against a giant cheese grater. I can run organization even if i don't personally want to be too involved just fine, but the second I have to put my work in it, It's torture. I don't want to make work for this event. I don't want my work at this event. I don't see a point. I'll do it nonetheless. Everything I do now is done mostly through forcing myself to do it. If i don't do it, who will?

[shiningwonderland]

Ai Mikaze (All Star)

Translator: Momo (Twitter: peachandrabbit)

Proofreader: Nadie (Twitter: nmoniag), Raz (Twitter: agnadance)

Editors: Whitney (Twitter: whitormiss), Terry (Twitter: turtlemudge), Mae (Twitter: itoshikimaegirl)

Chapter Two — Amabile Humming

November has arrived.

After Mikaze-senpai finally accepted our partnership, I started helping him with his work as promised.

Under his guidance, I’ve been composing the four-part song.

I’ve also been working on the background music for the movie Mikaze-senpai is in. In other words, normal film music production work.

Lots of work, all at once.

I’ve filled my notebook with two people’s work schedules. My schedule is written in red ink, while Mikaze-senpai’s is in blue.

Haruka Nanami: I’m running out of blue ink so much more quickly…

There would be no end if I wrote the description for every single job, so I'm summarizing them.

Even so, the amount of work I have pales in comparison to Senpai’s workload.

Just this week alone, there will be filming of the movie first on the list, a variety show appearance, a magazine interview, a photography shoot, the production of his own music CD… et cetera.

This year, he began appearing in the media more often, too.

On top of that, he agreed to coach me…

For all his delicately-intelligent appearance, he has to be quite tough to handle such a packed schedule.

Haruka Nanami: He’ll work all day and then check over my compositions in the evening…

After checking today’s schedule one last time, I leave the house.

Ai Mikaze: I said you’re doing it wrong. How many times do I have to tell you? Use your head a little.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry!

Mikaze-senpai doesn’t pull his punches.

Today he’s looking over the four-part song I edited based on what he told me last time, but…

Apparently, I didn’t fix it quite the way he wants it. I hastily edit it right then and there, but, once again, it isn’t right…

Ai Mikaze: How can you be so bad at remembering things? Not enough memory in your hard drive? Or maybe your CPU isn’t powerful enough? Are you an 8-bit?

Haruka Nanami: 8-bit…?

Every so often, Mikaze-senpai will use unfamiliar words like that.

Ai Mikaze: Hmmm, don’t worry about it if you don’t get it. Explaining would waste too much time. Here, I’ll go over what you need to fix again.

Haruka Nanami: Um, let me write this down!

Ai Mikaze: Of course you should write it down! Sheesh, your composition skill isn’t bad, so how come you make flubs like these…?

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…

Although Mikaze-senpai is as strict as the rumors said, his teaching method is also very thorough.

I do my absolute best to follow along with his detailed explanations.

While working on composing the song, we take the time to discuss our upcoming schedules.

Haruka Nanami: The filming at the ocean the other day was amazing! If I recall correctly, this weekend’s scene will also be on-site at the beach. I wonder if filming will be done at the ocean more often now?

Ai Mikaze: That’s right. It’s about a mermaid, after all. Other than the underwater scenes, which will be done in CG, I believe most of the scenes will be filmed on-site. Haaah, I’m not fond of the ocean, though.

Haruka Nanami: You don’t like it?

Ai Mikaze: The ocean breeze makes me feel all sticky.

Mikaze-senpai replies with a sigh.

Haruka Nanami: True, it messes up your hair and makes your skin feel rough. Is… that the only reason?

Ai Mikaze: Eh? Ummm… I don’t like the salty smell. And I just feel like… I don’t have any good memories of the ocean.

He “feels like” he doesn’t have any good memories? What a strange way to put it.

Haruka Nanami: Maybe you got stung by a jellyfish when you were little or got swept away from the shore by the waves?

He hums as he thinks it over.

Ai Mikaze: I don’t have any particular memories of why, I just… I’m not fond of it. I don’t know why myself.

Haruka Nanami: I see. If you’re not fond of the ocean, why did you take the role of the mermaid?

Ai Mikaze: It was for work, so what else could I do? I’ll do anything if I’m ordered to.

He huffs and crosses his arms.

Here I’d thought him capable of anything, a model of perfection, but it turns out he isn’t fond of the ocean…

Haruka Nanami: Wow… What a surprise, I didn’t think there was anything you couldn’t handle, Senpai.

Ai Mikaze: Well of course there is. I am technically a living being in human form. It’s not like I care about you finding out about this part about me.

For the first time, he looks a little embarrassed.

Ai Mikaze: I had a thought. Since we’ll be spending a lot of time together for a while, there are several things I have to inform you about. For example, regarding food—

As Mikaze-senpai is about to tell me something, the recording room door opens swiftly.

Reiji Kotobuki: Heya! You two having a good time working on the song!?

Haruka Nanami: Oh, Kotobuki-senpai!

Reiji Kotobuki: I just finished up work in the area and thought I’d stop in on my way home to see if I could help!

Kotobuki-senpai stands in the doorway with a huge smile.

Ai Mikaze: Reiji… If you’re here to tease us, then no thanks. We also don’t need your help to make this song.

Reiji Kotobuki: Aww c’mon, I’m part of the unit too, lemme have my say! Here ya go, I brought a gift~

Haruka Nanami: Wow, thank you so much for your kindness!

Inside the box that Kotobuki-senpai brought is a bunch of different-colored macarons.

Haruka Nanami: They’re so cute! Um, Mikaze-senpai! You should choose first!

I run up to Mikaze-senpai with the box in my hand.

He glances briefly at me and the box and then turns his head away.

Ai Mikaze: No thank you. I prefer not to intake food when I don’t have to. You have it instead.

Haruka Nanami: I… see?

Perhaps because he’s an idol he’s concerned about his weight?

Reiji Kotobuki: He’s always like this, Kouhai-chan. Don’t worry about him and help yourself! So, how’s it going?

Ai Mikaze: So-so. It’s not bad.

Reiji Kotobuki: My, oh my! Dearie, did you hear that?! Listen here, Ai-Ai calling it “not bad” translates to “pretty good!”

Haruka Nanami: Eh?! I thought for sure I did awful because he was so angry earlier…

Next to me, Mikaze-senpai puts a hand to his head as I gape at him.

Ai Mikaze: Geez… everything feels out of whack when you show up, Reiji.

After that exchange, Kotobuki-senpai joins us to give his input regarding the unit song.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you so much for your help when you’re so busy, both of you!

Once we’re done checking over the song, I stand up and bow to express my gratitude.

Mikaze-senpai is transferring over the song data onto his laptop.

Reiji Kotobuki: Before I forget, I’ve got a request for Ai-Ai here! You mind singing through Kouhai-chan’s song once?

Mikaze-senpai looks up from his laptop.

Ai Mikaze: You mean the unit song? Just me? Why? You could sing along with me, you know.

Kotobuki-senpai gives that question a moment’s thought.

Reiji Kotobuki: Uh, well, I kinda wanted to hear how it would sound first to get the feeling of it. You’re downright perfect at singing. I wanna follow your lead and all!

Ai Mikaze: The song isn’t complete yet… but I guess one time won’t hurt. You mind getting things ready?

Haruka Nanami: Alright! Um, do you need the sheet music?

Ai Mikaze: I remember it from looking at it earlier, so I don’t need it. I’ll sing. Can you start the music?

From the way Mikaze-senpai is drumming his fingers on the table, I can tell he wants me to hurry up.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes! I’ll get right to it. Just a moment, please!

I scramble to get things ready and start the music.

Mikaze-senpai’s clear voice echoes in the small room.

Haruka Nanami: He really is amazing…

Perfect skill. An incredibly clear voice that resounds throughout the whole room.

This is a song that I wrote… That thought sends a flush of warmth through my chest.

Reiji Kotobuki: Aine…

Haruka Nanami: Huh?

The voice behind me brings me back to my senses.

When I turn around, I see Kotobuki-senpai staring intensely at Mikaze-senpai.

Reiji Kotobuki: Aine…

Kotobuki-senpai’s lips barely move.

Aine...? Why...? Why does that word seem to resonate in my head…?

Ai Mikaze: How’s that? … Hey, what’s that look for?

I become aware that the music has stopped.

Reiji Kotobuki: Eh—o-oh, sorry ‘bout that! … I was just thinking about an old acquaintance, that’s all.

Ai Mikaze: You’re the one who wanted me to sing, and here you are thinking about something else? You DID listen properly, right?

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep, I did, thanks. And thanks to that I’ve got the gist of it. Sorry for putting you up to it!

Ai Mikaze: All I did was sing, it’s no big deal. Anyway, I’m heading home now.

He reaches for his laptop.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah—just a moment! Can I ask you something?

Kotobuki-senpai pops up from his chair to call out to Mikaze-senpai before he can leave the room.

Reiji Kotobuki: You don’t happen to have any siblings, do you, Ai-Ai? Like for instance, a much-older brother…?

Ai Mikaze: None. It’s always been just me.

Reiji Kotobuki: Huh, that so…

Ai Mikaze: There you have it. I’m heading out now, good work.

With those words, Mikaze-senpai disappears from the room.

After that, Kotobuki-senpai leaves as well, as bright as ever and acting as if nothing has happened.

I am curious about why Kotobuki-senpai seemed off towards the end of the song…

Was there something wrong with Mikaze-senpai’s singing?

Several days later, I receive a text from Senpai.

Haruka Nanami: “Tomorrow, if your schedule is open, I’d like your help,” it reads.

It is a simple text with just that request. Still, I have no reason to refuse.

The next day I go to Mikaze-senpai’s studio to help him with work.

Thanks to the map he sent me, I can locate it without trouble.

Haruka Nanami: It looks like it’s a fifteen-minute walk from here. Since it’s my first time visiting, maybe I should bring some kind of gift?

Since I have a little extra time, I decide to take a look around at the shops on the way there.

As I reach the main street, I stop in front of a sweets shop.

Haruka Nanami: Hmmm… Wouldn’t something sweet be best?

What should I get?

Select the phrase! 

芋ようかん   Sweet Potato Yokan (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It looks delicious, but it might be a little too plain.

A sign beside it reads in bold letters: “Great as a gift!”

Considering I am planning to buy this for a fifteen-year-old young boy whose tastes I don’t know, it is probably a little too mature as a snack.

Haruka Nanami: Okay, let’s try the shop next door.

特盛ジャンボシュークリーム   Special Jumbo Cream Puff (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s huge…

Whipped cream is swirled with custard cream in this fascinating double cream treat.

It is topped with large strawberries, making it very appealing to me, but…

Haruka Nanami: It’s probably too calorie-heavy.

Mikaze-senpai seems to be concerned about calorie consumption. Is there anything a little lower in calories?

I wander around a little, searching, until my eyes land on…

フルーツゼリー   Fruit gelatin (+0 Love)

My eyes land on a row of colorful fruit gelatin.

Haruka Nanami: Jelly of this sort is probably low in calories. This might make a good choice.

There is orange, pear, peach… I wonder what kinds of fruit Mikaze-senpai likes best.

While thinking to myself that I should have asked him before, I continue looking over the various jellies until my eyes lock on one in particular.

I pick up a jelly marketed as “marine jelly.”

Haruka Nanami: It’s so cute…!

Is it designed to look like the ocean?

Inside the cup, two different-colored jellies—aquamarine and a light emerald-green—are stacked on top of one another.

On the very top is a white mousse.

Several tiny shells and starfish made of sugar are nestled inside the jelly.

Haruka Nanami: I wonder if this looks a little childish?

Come to think of it, Mikaze-senpai said before that he wasn’t fond of the ocean, so this could help him become fonder of it, even just a little…

I purchase two cups of jelly and head for his studio.

Ai Mikaze: Once you’ve finished organizing that data, let me know. It needs to be sorted by song classification.

Haruka Nanami: A-alright!

As soon as I arrive at Mikaze-senpai’s studio, I am put to work.

My first task is to organize the music he has composed over the last three months. Most of it is just background music, but there is quite a lot of it.

That aside…

I take another look around Mikaze-senpai’s studio.

Although it’s his workplace, it seems almost too nice of a studio for one person.

The room itself is large and open. On the far side are two control rooms, including multiple recording booths.

There are shelves full of files, a corner for meetings, and a minibar.

There is even a tennis table, which I assume is for relaxation.

Mikaze-senpai is seated at the desk in the far corner of this room, which seems to be the main work area.

Sitting in his chair with his knees folded to his chest and arms around them, he types intently on his keyboard.

I wonder if Mikaze-senpai always works alone in this large room.

Haruka Nanami: Um, excuse me, Senpai?

Ai Mikaze: Hm? Are you done already?

His hands don’t stop typing as he replies.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, no, not yet. I was just wondering, do you not normally have an assistant to help you?

Ai Mikaze: I don’t. I always work alone. In fact, I’d say you’re the first. Whether you’re helpful or not is a different matter.

Haruka Nanami: Ack… I’ll do my best.

I return my focus to my own task and start working.

Haruka Nanami: This computer is amazing. I’ve never seen a screen like this, and its processing speed is so fast.

Mikaze-senpai has lent me this computer to work with. I’ve barely touched it, but I already have a feeling it is a very high-performance computer.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, that? That has the OS for a supercomputer I developed myself for my personal work. Let’s just say its processing speed is vastly higher than yours.

Haruka Nanami: What’s a… supercomputer?

Judging by the word "super", I imagine some really big system, like a bunch of computers connected together...

Mikaze-senpai spins his chair around.

Ai Mikaze: Your assumption is pretty close. Really, everything you’re thinking shows on your face…

Before I can ask how he knew what I was thinking, he’s already answered me.

Haruka Nanami: Am I really that easy to read? How embarrassing…

Ai Mikaze: Honesty isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the ability to negotiate is also important at work. You should work on that a bit too.

He returns his gaze to his computer monitor.

Haruka Nanami: Ack… okay.

Haruka Nanami: I’m finished, Mikaze-senpai. I sent the email just now.

Somehow I manage to finish one task and send an email.

Ai Mikaze: Right, on to the next one. This folder contains hit songs from the past fifty years. I need you to sort them by genre.

Before I say a word, a large file is sent to my computer.

Sort hit songs by genre?

Haruka Nanami: When you say by genre, do you mean like by rock or pop, for example?

Hmmm, but what kind of genres could there be?

I begin counting music genres on my fingers.

Haruka Nanami: Ah but… I wonder what I should do if there are songs that overlap two genres?

At my mumbled question to myself, Mikaze-senpai heaves a long sigh.

Ai Mikaze: Haaah… Why don’t you decide that for yourself? You’re not a machine, are you? That’s why I asked for your help here.

Haruka Nanami: Understood…

It seems he heard me.

Okay, I’d better start thinking about this so I can be of use.

With that in mind, I return my attention to the computer screen before me.

Several hours of working like this pass.

Haruka Nanami: My head… I’m getting a little dizzy…

I am at the limit of my ability to focus.

Unfamiliar work combined with the nerves from working alone with Mikaze-senpai has drained me.

Unable to take it much longer, I am almost ready to collapse onto the computer, when...

Ai Mikaze: Oh, it’s three o’clock. Well then, it’s break time.

Mikaze-senpai finally looks away from his computer monitor.

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

I’m saved…!

With a big sigh, I stretch against the back of my chair.

Haruka Nanami: Hm? You aren’t going to take a break, Mikaze-senpai?

When the sound of typing continues, I look over at Mikaze-senpai to see that he has yet to stop working and is still facing the computer.

Ai Mikaze: No, I’m not.

Haruka Nanami: Aren’t you tired?

Ai Mikaze: Nope.

Haruka Nanami: Your eyes don’t hurt—

Ai Mikaze: Not at all.

The only sound that resonates in the room is the clicking of his keyboard.

H-hmmm. Will he be okay?

I observe Mikaze-senpai as he continues to work.

Although I don’t know how much help I’ve been so far, I have to wonder how he handled work like this before I started helping.

What appears to be manuscripts and various documents are piled up on his desk.

But rather than being disorganized, everything is neat and angled precisely, as expected of him

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, are you making sure to get enough sleep? And what about food? It’s not good to push yourself too hard.

Ai Mikaze: I can go without sleep or eating just fine. If you’re free enough to worry about others, go back to work. Or help yourself to some coffee. It’s self-service.

He points to the coffee maker in the corner of the room.

Haruka Nanami: Alright…

He’s unapproachable.

I envy his superhuman capabilities, but I am still worried.

I watch him from behind as I prepare coffee for myself.

Once I’ve brewed some coffee from the barely-used coffee maker, I remember something.

Haruka Nanami: That’s right, I bought a treat earlier.

I raise my voice to call out to Mikaze-senpai from behind, who has continued working.

Haruka Nanami: Um, Senpai? I brought along a snack that I bought earlier…

Ai Mikaze: A snack? Are you mentioning that because it’s three o’clock? It’s alright, go ahead and eat it.

Haruka Nanami: That’s, um, that’s not what I meant. I wanted to share it with you. It’s jelly…

I set down the coffee and the marine jelly on the bistro table towards the center of the room.

Ai Mikaze: I already told you that I try not to have too much food intake.

Mikaze-senpai turns his head and his eyes fixate on what’s in my hands.

Ai Mikaze: ... Why’s it blue?

Haruka Nanami: Pardon?

Ai Mikaze: Jelly’s a food. What’s the purpose of coloring it an unnatural color for food?

At last, Mikaze-senpai stops working and turns his chair to face me.

Haruka Nanami: This is called marine jelly. It’s blue because it was designed to be reminiscent of the ocean.

Ai Mikaze: Huh… It certainly looks like it’s made of gelatin. Why are there several different layers?

I suppose now he’s asking about how it’s made?

Haruka Nanami: I’m guessing each layer was made separately and then stacked on top of one another. Oh, it’s probably supposed to look like the surface of the ocean down to the depths.

Mikaze-senpai accepts this with a nod and picks up one of the cups to peer at the gelatin from the side.

I pour a cup of coffee for him too.

Haruka Nanami: With those shells and starfish suspended in the jelly, it’s really cute, isn’t it?

Ai Mikaze: Cute… This is… cute? I didn’t realize shells and starfish could be considered “cute”…

Haruka Nanami: The other day you said you weren’t fond of the ocean, so I bought this in hopes it would help you like it even a little bit.

Ai Mikaze: I’m interested.

Mikaze-senpai stands up to approach at last and takes a seat at one of the bistro table chairs instead.

Haruka Nanami: Yay, that’s great! I’m sure this marine jelly’s delicious! It’s from a popular sweets shop. Here, I’ll get it ready.

As I open the jelly packaging and flip it onto a plate, Mikaze-senpai watches intently.

Once the jelly is placed, he cautiously pokes it with a coffee spoon.

Ai Mikaze: Hey, you try to eat it first.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—why?

Ai Mikaze: I want you to make sure that this food is safe.

As he says this, he scoops up a bite of jelly with his spoon.

Haruka Nanami: Y-you want me to test if it’s poisonous?!

Ai Mikaze: It doesn’t seem to be quite that dangerous, but it’s a type of jelly I’ve never seen before. So, just to be safe.

He extends the spoon towards me. The jelly jiggles from side to side.

Haruka Nanami: That’s… I bought it myself and I’m pretty sure it’s just normal jelly. There shouldn’t be a problem with eating it yourself, but…

Ai Mikaze: If that’s the case, then you should have no problem. Here you go, open your mouth.

Haruka Nanami: Um…

Upon meeting his eyes, I freeze up.

Ai Mikaze: Hurry up, I am telling you to open your mouth. Do you understand? It won’t go in if you don’t open your mouth.

He pokes the spoonful of jelly against my lips.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I have my own portion so I’m good! It’s fine!

Ai Mikaze: Nope, not good enough. The test is pointless if you don’t sample from my portion. Open up. I’ll feed it to you.

Haruka Nanami: Ngh… okay…

I hesitantly open my mouth.

With that leeway, Mikaze-senpai slips the spoonful of jelly he’s holding into my mouth.

Haruka Nanami: Hnn—mph…

Ai Mikaze: How is it? Does it taste good?

The mouthful of jelly is slightly tart and citrusy, like grapefruit and lemon.

The creamy mousse is sweet, softening the tanginess of the jelly.

Haruka Nanami: ... It’s delicious.

Mikaze-senpai withdraws his hand and nods several times.

Ai Mikaze: Good. Then I’ll have some too. Thanks for the gift.

After politely putting his hands together, he also begins to eat.

T-that surprised me…

He just wanted me to taste-test, but what he did reminds me of how couples feed each other food…

I take a sip of coffee while feeling my face turning red.

Mikaze-senpai continues eating his jelly as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Looking again, I notice he is carefully separating the jelly into each layer.

From those jelly chunks, he scoops out the shaped sugar pieces and sets them neatly aside.

Haruka Nanami: Aren’t you going to eat those?

I point out the sugar candies as I say this. It doesn’t look like he plans to eat them.

Ai Mikaze: Eh…? These are shells and starfish. I can’t eat them, can I?

He gapes at me in surprise.

Huh? He is… joking, right…?

Haruka Nanami: Um, these clams and starfish are actually made of sugar. They’re perfectly edible.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, I see. I thought they weren’t edible. Hmmm… You’re right. It’s sweet.

He picks up a starfish and pops it into his mouth.

… He can be surprisingly naive, it seems.

Mikaze-senpai, when he is eating jelly like this, actually appears to be acting his age for once.

He’d probably get mad if I said that aloud, but he really is acting younger than usual.

That is an expression completely different from the typical strict-and-scary Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Does it taste good?

This time, it’s my turn to ask that question.

Ai Mikaze: It’s… probably good… I think.

As he says this, Mikaze-senpai eyes the remaining chunks of the jelly on his plate and the shells and starfish candies he lined up on the table.

Although he’d added “probably”, it’s a better reaction than usual.

It seems that it was a good idea to buy that jelly after all.

I pick up my own spoon and begin eating my portion of jelly.

Ai Mikaze: This seems like something Natsuki would like.

Mikaze-senpai muses out loud.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, you’re right! Shinomiya-san is very fond of cute things, after all. And since it’s an unusual type of jelly, I imagine Syo-kun would enjoy it if he received it as well.

When I say this, Mikaze-senpai looks up from his jelly.

Ai Mikaze: That’s right, you graduated with those two. You must get along well with them.

Haruka Nanami: I do! Even when we were in school together, Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun were always helping me out when I needed it. Actually, I still receive lots of advice from them…

Come to think of it, they both said you were a great senpai to them.

Ai Mikaze: That’s kind of surprising. I was certain they weren’t fond of me... at least that’s what I thought.

Haruka Nanami: That’s not true! They say that your strictness is your way of showing your concern and that what you say is always precise!

Flustered, I refute him.

Ai Mikaze: They told you that? Heh, and here Syo was always putting up a fuss during the Master Course.

Mikaze-senpai wears a slightly wry smile as he recalls dealing with Syo-kun and Shinomiya-san during their Master Course.

Haruka Nanami: He did say he had a lot of complaints at that time.

It feels like the conversation about mutual acquaintances lightens the atmosphere.

Haruka Nanami: Um, Senpai! Is it alright if we talk for a little while longer as we eat?

I take the chance to propose this idea and learn more about him.

Ever since becoming partners, the only thing we’ve ever done is work, leaving no chance to talk and come to better understand one another.

There might not be a better chance to talk casually like this for a while.

At my words, Mikaze-senpai glances at the studio clock.

Ai Mikaze: ... Sure, as thanks for the snack. But only fifteen minutes.

Haruka Nanami: Oh…! Thank you! Um, then…

Select the phrase! 

家族のこと   Ask about his family (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Where is your actual home? Do you live with your parents?

He told Kotobuki-senpai that he had no siblings, so I wonder about what the rest of his family is like.

Mikaze-senpai’s family must surely be as beautiful as him...

Ai Mikaze: Home... I don’t live very far from where I was born, but there’s no one else in my family. Or rather, there wasn’t anyone else to begin with.

He answers without any particular emotion.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—oh, um, I’m very sorry! So you… don’t have any family at all.

That might have been an insensitive question I just asked.

Feeling guilty, I timidly look back up at him, only to see Mikaze-senpai casually spinning his spoon around.

Ai Mikaze: It’s no big deal. What I don’t have, I don’t have. I do have the professor as a guardian. Oh, and I guess Shining too. So there’s no problem there.

The professor…? That must be his guardian’s line of work.

Haruka Nanami: By “Shining” you’re referring to the company president, right?

Ai Mikaze: Right. Even without a family, I have no difficulties with my everyday needs.

With a nod, he takes another bite of jelly.

To be working like this from such a young age… he probably is going through a lot of hardship.

音楽のこと  Ask about his music (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: How long have you been performing music?

True, his singing and music composition are downright perfect, but judging by his age he couldn’t have graduated from Saotome Academy.

Where could he have studied music?

Ai Mikaze: How long…? Hmmm. Since I was born, I suppose. After all, I was born to make music in the first place.

Haruka Nanami: Since you were... born? That would be awfully early…

And he even says he was born to make music.

Then again, come to think of it, one of my first memories is playing the piano.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I think I understand what you mean! I was also raised with music!

Ai Mikaze: You were too, huh? Then you might be able to understand me.

A very slight smile appears with his quiet murmur.

音楽のこと  Ask about his music (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: How long have you been performing music?

True, his singing and music composition are downright perfect, but judging by his age he couldn’t have graduated from Saotome Academy.

Where could he have studied music?

Ai Mikaze: How long…? Hmmm. Since I was born, I suppose. After all, I was born to make music in the first place.

Haruka Nanami: Since you were... born? That would be awfully early…

And he even says he was born to make music.

Then again, come to think of it, one of my first memories is playing the piano.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I think I understand what you mean! I was also raised with music!

Ai Mikaze: You were too, huh? Then you might be able to understand me.

A very slight smile appears with his quiet murmur.

住まいのこと  Ask about his living situation (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: How is your living situation right now?

I’ve never seen him in the agency dorms at least, and now that the Master Course is finished, he isn’t living together with Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun either.

Ai Mikaze: My living situation...? You mean you want to know where I live?

Haruka Nanami: Yes. I was curious about where you’re currently living.

Ai Mikaze: “Where”...? Here. I live here. This is my home.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—HERE?! But isn’t this a work studio!?

“That’s right,” Mikaze-senpai replies with a nod.

The entire room is sparkling clean.

When I take another look around, I can’t even find any signs that anyone is actually living there.

There are a decent number of studios on the first floor of the building, but they’re mostly filled with music equipment.

Haruka Nanami: Um, where do you usually sleep?

Ai Mikaze: When I take a break, I just stay at my desk. For the rare times I need to completely power off, I lay on the sofa.

There is indeed a sofa where he points, but it doesn’t look long enough for Mikaze-senpai to sleep on, judging by his height.

Haruka Nanami: ... You aren’t uncomfortable sleeping there?

Ai Mikaze: Not at all. The room temperature doesn’t change, and I have all the machinery I need. It’s quite comfortable.

He tilts his head in confusion.

Is that the case?

I also tilt my head, unable to picture his normal living habits.

Ai Mikaze: Is that all you had to ask? Anything else? You still have plenty of time left.

I am not prepared for the question in return and briefly flounder for a response.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—!? Um, then… what are your dreams?

Whoops, it feels like I am conducting an interview for a magazine or something.

I feel like wincing at my own lack of variety with these questions.

For a brief moment, Mikaze-senpai considers the question, then opens his mouth to reply.

Ai Mikaze: A dream…? I don’t have one. I do have a goal and various things I want to work on, though. What about you? Do you have a dream?

Haruka Nanami: Me? My dream is…

Select the phrase! 

アイドルに曲を作ること  To write music for idols (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I initially aspired to be in the entertainment industry because I wanted to write a song for a particular idol.

I think back to before I attended Saotome Academy when I answer.

I’d decided I wanted to write songs for the idol on TV I looked up to.

Thinking that, I’d enrolled at Saotome Academy.

Since then various things have happened and I ended up being unable to fulfill that dream, but…

Haruka Nanami: Right now, even if it’s not that person, I want to write songs that make idols sparkle and will entertain the audience.

I want to become a great composer. That’s my dream!

Ai Mikaze: Maybe it’s because your goal is different from mine, but I don’t really understand what you mean…

However, you looked really excited when you were talking about your dream just now. Is that what’s different, maybe?

デビューすること  To debut (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I’d say my dream is to debut with a song that I wrote...

Right now that’s my number one dream.

Helping out Mikaze-senpai and composing BGM tracks is fun and a great learning experience…

I want the audience to hear my music!

To that end, I need to work hard and have Mikaze-senpai acknowledge me, but…

Ai Mikaze: I see, so your dream is to debut. A wish that has a low chance of success, thus, a “dream.”

Haruka Nanami: Um… did you just say that I have little chance of succeeding…?

Ai Mikaze: I think I understand a little better now what a “dream” is.

Haruka Nanami: That’s… good to hear.

Ouch, that hurts a little.

事務所に残ること   To remain in the agency (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s not exactly a dream, but my immediate concern is remaining at the agency…

I mumble this with uncertainty.

Ai Mikaze: That’s true. In your case, you’re prioritizing avoiding your problems over having dreams.

Ahh, he’s concluded that I don’t have any dreams...

After our talk about dreams, Mikaze-senpai spends some time thinking about something.

Ai Mikaze: I don’t quite get it. My goal is to produce a million sales hit, but that’s less a dream and more just a specific goal.

I don’t understand the feeling of aspiring to something so abstract.

To be honest, I can’t really understand “emotion” to begin with.

Haruka Nanami: You can’t… understand emotions?

Those words draw my attention.

Ai Mikaze: Nope. I’m sure I would grow in maturity if I were to understand them thoroughly.

Mikaze-senpai speaks with unusual nervousness.

Come to think of it, Shinomiya-san did say that Mikaze-senpai doesn’t have enough human expression.

When talking to him, I’ve noticed that he isn’t very expressive and seems downright flat.

The reason for that could be due to his lifestyle until now or how he was raised, or because of something I don’t know…

Haruka Nanami: But I think you’re already amazing. Your singing ability is incredible, and the music you compose is so good. I can learn a lot from it.

Senpai, I think you are perfect.

Ai Mikaze: I wonder about that. This time I was assigned a completely new, far more difficult project: acting.

It’s a big challenge.

Haruka Nanami: You’re talking about the movie filming, right?

“Right,” he replies with a nod.

Ai Mikaze: If I’m to act correctly for that movie, I need to understand romantic love. That’s something unknown to me, so it’s really tough.

He has to understand the feeling of romantic love?

Haruka Nanami: Umm, this might sound like a strange question, but…

I decide to put the question out there.

Haruka Nanami: … Does that mean you’ve never come to like someone or fallen in love before...?

Ai Mikaze: That’s right. I’ve never understood the feeling of loving or intimately caring about someone.

Haruka Nanami: I-I see…

In other words, Mikaze-senpai wants to effectively perform this new line of work and act in a movie, but since he doesn’t understand how it feels to be in love and to care about another person, he is a little troubled.

… I think I’m getting the idea.

After a period of silence, Mikaze-senpai glances at the clock.

Ai Mikaze: Question time is almost up. Do you mind if I ask one last question instead?

Haruka Nanami: Um, y-yes, go ahead!

Ai Mikaze: How would you describe the feeling of falling in love with someone?

At the sudden question, I am at a loss for words.

Haruka Nanami: I-I think that that question might be a little beyond me…

Ai Mikaze: I want to know more about that feeling. Will you teach me?

Despite my answer, he stares intently at me, expectant, and I search hurriedly for an answer.

Haruka Nanami: Love is…

Select the phrase! 

離れないこと  Not wanting to be apart (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Not wanting to be apart. Wanting to always be together… I-it’s something

I don’t really understand yet either…

For example, I love music. Because of that, I want to always be able to make music. I hope to always be with music.

I think love is basically like that…?

Maybe because he isn’t satisfied with the response, Mikaze-senpai looks away in thought.

Ai Mikaze: What you’re saying is that choosing of your own volition to be with something is to “love" it?

He thinks it over to himself after saying this.

I am not sure if I properly conveyed things, but then again “love” is a difficult thing to explain.

大切に思うこと   Cherishing them (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I think that “loving” someone means wanting to cherish them and considering them important.

Ai Mikaze: Important… for me, my fans are important, but is that “love?”

Haruka Nanami: Hmmm, I don’t think that’s the same… after all, you have a lot of fans.

If among those important people you had someone who you cherished above all others, I think that would be “love.”

At my answer, Mikaze-senpai tilts his head.

Ai Mikaze: Someone I’d cherish above everyone else… umm. I don’t understand after all.

ドキドキすること   Feeling your heart race (+0 Love)

Ai Mikaze: Hmmm… Do you feel your heart race being with me now, for example?

Haruka Nanami: Huh?!

That definitely makes my pulse jump, but that is out of surprise.

Ai Mikaze: You… do sort of get that feeling, don’t you?

He asks this emphatically, to make sure.

When I don’t answer right away, Mikaze-senpai backs away.

Ai Mikaze: Hmm. All living humans have a heartbeat, so it’s too imprecise as an evaluation standard.

Haruka Nanami: Well, um, you’re right about that…

Senpai doesn’t look like he’s kidding around, so I am at a loss for words.

Ai Mikaze: What’s the matter? You’re making an odd face. Why not drink some coffee and calm down?

Unlike me, who has gotten flustered, Mikaze-senpai speaks calmly.

Ai Mikaze: It’s a really tough topic. I think understanding “love” is an assignment that will take a while.

After speaking curtly, he elegantly scoops the remaining jelly on his plate into his mouth.

Ai Mikaze: I don’t really get “like” in the romantic sense, but… I think… I like this jelly.

Mikaze-senpai murmurs quietly.

I’ve been able to interact with him face-to-face and come to understand him a little for the first time.

At first he seems perfect, but now I could see that there are things he doesn’t understand and lacks.

Haruka Nanami: Um… I know I’m not good with words, and I don’t understand romantic love very well myself, so I can’t give a good explanation anytime soon, but…

I’ll help you however I can until you do understand! You can ask me for help with anything!

I say this with the desire to support him, even if it is just with this one thing.

Mikaze-senpai sets down his spoon and narrows his eyes.

Ai Mikaze: Haha, what’s with that all of a sudden? So weird. You’re also kind of a strange one, aren’t you? Though not as much as I am, of course.

Right, let’s get back to work. If you don’t pick up the pace, we’ll be working all night.

Haruka Nanami: Ah... that would be a problem! I want to sleep in my own bed tonight!

Ai Mikaze: In that case, better give it a push. You seem to be having trouble sorting that data, so let’s have you work on arranging this music instead.

Haruka Nanami: Ah! Right!

On the table sits Mikaze-senpai’s untouched coffee, as well as the plate that held the jelly he ate.

For some time after that, I continue to travel to his studio and work with Mikaze-senpai.

I converse with him a little during work breaks.

Mostly we talk about music, but his knowledge of music is astounding and I lose track of time chatting.

By and large, I am learning more than I am able to be of help. Still, I feel like I’ve made some progress as his partner.

Today’s schedule includes filming for the movie. We arrive at the filming location.

In truth, the scene that was supposed to be filmed was changed abruptly. We were suddenly given a new script this morning.

This means that the Mikaze-senpai, in the lead role, has a lot to relearn.

Haruka Nanami: Are you doing alright, Senpai?

Ai Mikaze: Quiet. This much should be fine if I read this through once.

Mikaze-senpai is in the middle of reading through his script at an incredible speed.

True, he does have an amazing memory, but will he really be alright…?

Reiji Kotobuki: Wanna read it aloud with me? That’ll make it easier to remember.

Ai Mikaze: No way. Now’s not the time to butt into other people’s business—are you sure you remember your own lines?

Come to think of it, Kotobuki-senpai had a lot of lines added to his script as well.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ngh… Not… yet. Gahh, so harsh! You broke ol’ Rei-chan’s heart…

Ai Mikaze: I’m not all that harsh. You’re just taking this too lightly. Buckle down already.

Mikaze-senpai lets out a sigh and returns his attention to his script.

Assistant Director: We’re starting rehearsal in a few minutes! Mikaze-san, please stand by!

Right as Mikaze-senpai finishes reading his script, the AD calls out.

Ai Mikaze: Yes, understood! … Here you go.

He closes his script and hands it to me, then heads for his place on set.

The filming begins.

Today they are filming the scene where the mermaid boy first comes to the girl’s home.

Mikaze-senpai has said that filming is a big challenge to overcome, but…

He runs through the garden of blooming flowers, turns the corner of the house, and meets the girl.

The moment he sees the girl, the look on his face is a mix of surprise and joy at being reunited with her again.

Ai Mikaze: There you are. Ever since that day, I’ve longed to see you again...

Mikaze-senpai smiles gently.

After that, he perfectly recites long lines of dialogue that he only just memorized from his script a few moments ago.

Haruka Nanami: Wow… Mikaze-senpai’s so talented. And he’s remembering his lines perfectly!

Reiji Kotobuki: Phew, that’s Ai-Ai for you. Looks like we’ll have this one wrapped up in one take.

Kotobuki-senpai, with his script in hand, murmurs to himself while watching Mikaze-senpai.

Talent A: Acting is what’s most important. Anyone can memorize and recite lines.

This particular actor is glaring at Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Umm…

If I remember correctly, he is a coactor. He is… kind of scary.

Kotobuki-senpai leans over to whisper in my ear.

Reiji Kotobuki: It’s tough to be popular~! Don’t worry about him, okay? You just focus on your partner’s acting.

Haruka Nanami: O-okay…

I nod several times.

The filming continues at an exceptionally smooth rate.

The final scene of the day involves the heroine.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll come see you again. Wait for me here.

This is where he is supposed to take the heroine’s hand, lean over, and kiss her forehead.

Except Mikaze-senpai very suddenly leans in close to her face.

Ai Mikaze: Hm...? Why’re you leaning away? Hold still—

When his co-star automatically pulls away, he firmly catches her arm and pulls her towards himself.

Ai Mikaze: Ngh?!

He pulls her too close and their foreheads collide with quite some force.

Both topple to the ground from the shock of their collision.

Ai Mikaze: Whoa, I-I’m sorry! Are you okay?!

Flustered, Mikaze-senpai quickly sets to helping his fellow actor up.

The director calls a swift cut and the staff rushes to check on them.

Talent A: How lame… the heck did he think he was doing?

Once again, I hear that voice from a corner of the studio.

After that, they attempt the scene over and over, but he can never get the timing—or pausing—just right.

Director: Hmmm, well, I guess since we did just redo that whole section of the script, it’s only to be expected…

Eventually the director waves his hand to the staff and actors.

Director: Let’s continue with this scene another day. We’ll move on to filming the scenes with Kotobuki-kun instead for now.

Reiji Kotobuki: Okay, okaaaay~! I’m aaaaall ready!

Kotobuki-senpai’s bubbly voice lightens the atmosphere.

That day, on the way home, I stop by Mikaze-senpai's studio for a while.

Haruka Nanami: Is your forehead alright?

Ai Mikaze: Ugh... it’s fine.

He is sitting on the couch when he says this, a conflicted look on his face as he is lost in thought.

I assume he’s bothered by his acting difficulties today.

After today’s filming, he apologized to the rest of the cast and to the staff.

He didn’t say much on the way home.

He never is one to talk excessively, but this is enough to worry me.

I set my things down and take a seat beside him on the sofa. After a while, Mikaze-senpai glances at me.

Ai Mikaze: Hey, um. Why’d my co-star move away like that? Did I do something?

From the way he asks me this, it sounds like he is deeply confused.

So he is worried about that after all…

Haruka Nanami: Um, th-that’s because… you might have come on to her a little too strongly.

Ai Mikaze: Even though I acted exactly as the script said? Hahhh… I’m stumped. So how should I act?

Haruka Nanami: Since you need to be more romantic about it, maybe take it slowly and go through the motions step by step, one at a time.

Mikaze-senpai sinks back against the sofa, thinking hard about my reply.

Ai Mikaze: Take it slowly… If I do everything slowly it’ll take too long. What things should I focus on?

Haruka Nanami: How about how you…

Select the phrase! 

キスの仕方   Kiss her (+30 Love)

I get embarrassed and I can’t bring myself to say “kiss.”

Haruka Nanami: Um… At the very least I think it’s best that you, um, take the end very slowly.

Ai Mikaze: Take what slowly? Just say it.

Ack… It’s embarrassing to say, but I’ll say it to help Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Right at the end you should… slowly bring your lips closer to her forehead… to kiss her.

Ai Mikaze: Got it. Do you mind if we practice that kiss scene right now?

Haruka Nanami: W-what?!

As soon as he finishes speaking, Mikaze-senpai turns to face me so that he has one knee on the sofa.

Haruka Nanami: J-just a—please hold on a moment, Senpai!

He is so much taller that he towers over me and I become overwhelmed and freeze.

Passionate about acting or not, this is a little…!

Ai Mikaze: Come on, hold still or I won’t be able to do this right. Hmm... So where should I put my hands?

He waves one hand as an example.

Haruka Nanami: You should probably… put your hand on my shoulder...

At my answer, he carefully sets his hand on my shoulder. The warmth from the contact makes my heart leap in my chest.

Ai Mikaze: Like this? Now I just have to follow up, but… in your case, your bangs are kind of in the way.

Haruka Nanami: Maybe you should brush them to the side with your other hand.

Mikaze-senpai does as instructed and pushes my bangs out of the way, and then brings his lips closer to my forehead.

手の取り方   Take her hand (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: If you just grab her hand out of nowhere, I think she’d be really startled. That’s why, when you take her hand…

It is clear by how Mikaze-senpai’s brow furrows that he doesn’t quite get it yet.

Haruka Nanami: You should take her hand gently and try to keep your actions soft and steady.

Ai Mikaze: Gentle, soft and steady… Let me borrow your hand for a moment. You mean something… like this?

He carefully grasps my hand.

Haruka Nanami: That’s certainly gentle, but… hmm…

… Huh?

Haruka Nanami: It’s okay to let go now.

Mikaze-senpai stares me in the eye, not saying anything.

Perhaps he has gotten into his role.

Somewhat faster than I expected, he bends towards my forehead.

目の見つめ方   Look her in the eye (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: While you’re making eye contact, make sure to move slowly so the actress knows your next move.

Ai Mikaze: Eye contact... I see… Like this?

His beautiful eyes peer into mine.

Haruka Nanami: Eep… Somehow this is really nerve-wracking…

Being so close to him has my heart racing.

Ai Mikaze: You’re nervous? That can’t be good. It’ll make it hard for my partner to act.

The whole time our gazes are locked.

… It is making me tense.

Haruka Nanami: N-no, it’s fine. I’d actually say this is… the correct response in this situation, in fact it’s a good sign, but...

With my heart beating so fast, it is kind of hard to form the right words.

Ai Mikaze: If you say so, then I’ll believe you. Next is…

His face nears my forehead.

… At this rate... is he really going to kiss me?

Haruka Nanami: M-Mikaze-senpai! Stop! Let’s stop here for now!

Ai Mikaze: … Why?

Haruka Nanami: To refer to the sc-script! I don’t quite know the details yet!

Unless I know what will happen next, I can’t give you proper advice!

Ai Mikaze: Hmm... that’s true. Alright. It looks like you have a talent for giving advice on acting.

Haruka Nanami: D-do you think so?

Ai Mikaze: I understand the concept of descriptions like “gently” or “romantically,” but I don’t really know how those words translate into actions.

Haruka Nanami: I… see…

This might be what people mean when they say that understanding a maiden’s heart is difficult.

Ai Mikaze: I’m appointing you to be my acting advisor. I feel like you’re qualified for the role. Will you help me out?

Haruka Nanami: Help you out…?

I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever heard him say that.

It thrills me.

If there is any way I can assist him as a partner, then…

Haruka Nanami: I will! I’ll do whatever I can to support you!

“Good,” replies Mikaze-senpai with a nod.

After that, we rehearse the troublesome scene repeatedly.

It turns out that it isn’t the moment of the forehead kiss that is giving him trouble, but instead the actions leading up to it.

We end up practicing the scenes that come before and after as well.

The day of filming that scene arrives. We stand in a corner of the set, waiting.

Ai Mikaze: One last check. At this point I should tilt my head at this angle like… this, right?

Mikaze-senpai leans close to my face.

Haruka Nanami: Eek!

My heart rate jumps at being close enough to feel his breath, and I turn my face away.

Ai Mikaze: Should I take your surprise to mean I didn’t get it quite right yet?

Haruka Nanami: No, um, it’s not that that was wrong, I mean, that was actually really good, just, um, doing that in a place like this…!!

Ai Mikaze: This is rehearsal. Repetition is the most basic part of practice. One more time, now hold still.

His argument is perfectly sound, but that doesn’t change the fact that practicing something like this here of all places is a little…

Ai Mikaze: So I tilt my head like this… Next, place my hand on your shoulder. Finally I need to gently press my lips to your forehead…

Reiji Kotobuki: Let your love~ ♪ Ring far and wide~ ♪ Odorokimaaan~ ♪ … Oh, morniiin’! Eh, w-wai—whaa?!

Haruka Nanami: Hyaaaah?!

I leap away from Mikaze-senpai.

Kotobuki-senpai’s eyes are as big as saucers.

Haruka Nanami: U-um, this is—this is for Mikaze-senpai’s acting…!

Ai Mikaze: Nothing to be so surprised about. This is just a rehearsal, that’s all.

Mikaze-senpai cuts across my words with his straightforward statement.

Kotobuki-senpai nods awkwardly three times, and then gives an awkward cough.

Reiji Kotobuki: O-oh... r-right! All’s well then. That reminds me, Ai-Ai, you gonna be alright today? Think you can manage?

Ai Mikaze: Manage what?

Reiji Kotobuki: I was all set to offer you advice on your acting, but looks like you’ve already worked on it with Kouhai-chan here, huh?

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes. We were discussing the specifics again just now.

Reiji Kotobuki: That so? Good to hear. And lookin’ good too, sounds like you’re coming along well as partners.

Ai Mikaze: Coming along well… as partners?

Reiji Kotobuki: I’m talking about how you’re supporting each other like that. Well done, well done!

Next to the grinning Kotobuki-senpai, Mikaze-senpai seems to be thinking about something again.

Ai Mikaze: Supporting one another… a give-and-take relationship. In other words, there are merits to this partner relationship after all.

Haruka Nanami: Mikaze-senpai? The filming is about to begin…

Ai Mikaze: Right, I’ll get going. Will you watch everything carefully? I want to hear your thoughts about it afterwards.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, of course!

With a nod to me, Mikaze-senpai heads onto the set with confidence.

The day’s filming ends without incident, with the problematic scene resolving successfully.

That scene with the forehead kiss is so romantic that I blush just watching.

Kotobuki-senpai, who comes over to watch, keeps mumbling that it’s embarrassing him.

It’s extra embarrassing for me when I think about how I helped rehearse this scene…

I’ve read the lines of this scene enough that I can quote them almost perfectly.

The director is pleased, saying it went well.

For a time, I’d been worried about how things would turn out, but for now we are in the clear.

While I am waiting for Mikaze-senpai after filming is over, Kotobuki-senpai walks over to me after he’s finished getting ready to go home.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, good work today!

“Hey, hey!” Kotobuki-senpai calls with a wave of his hand.

Reiji Kotobuki: Nah, I didn’t do much today. You’re the one who’s really had it tough, haven’t you? All worried about Ai-Ai like that.

Haruka Nanami: No, really, it was nothing! Besides, you were also concerned and trying to help Mikaze-senpai out, weren’t you?

Since this is the first movie Mikaze-senpai has been in, Kotobuki-senpai has been casually supporting Mikaze-senpai both during filming and off camera.

I hadn’t noticed he was doing that until recently.

Reiji Kotobuki: Haha, that’s about all I could do for him. I haven’t been in the entertainment industry this long for nothing!

That said, I’ve been thinking that Ai-Ai’s role is a pretty tough one.

Haruka Nanami: Is it really?

Mikaze-senpai’s role is the mermaid.

In order to reunite with the now-grown girl, the mermaid sacrifices his voice in exchange for a human form and goes to the human world.

That’s why, during the latter part of the movie, he has to act completely without speaking.

The emotions of the mermaid prince, the lead role, are complex.

However, Mikaze-senpai is still young, and this is the first time he has ever acted for a romantic role. It’s no wonder Kotobuki-senpai says this is tough.

Reiji Kotobuki: Back when I first got this job from Shiny-san, he shocked me by saying, “Mikaze is playing the lead for this movie.”

To be honest, I kept thinking, “Will he be alright?” Oh, uh, Ai-Ai’ll get mad if he hears that, so let’s keep this a secret, okay?

Haruka Nanami: But Mikaze-senpai’s very studious and is working very hard.

Reiji Kotobuki: Mmhmm, Ai-Ai’s a real hard worker. He’s been taking this job quite seriously.

But, you know… when I see him giving his all like that, I actually start to get worried.

Haruka Nanami: Worried? Why is that?

After a long moment of silence, Kotobuki-senpai opens his mouth again.

Reiji Kotobuki: A while back, I had an idol friend whom I was very close to.

The word ”had” catches my attention.

Reiji Kotobuki: He was an incredible singer and actor, a real genius in my opinion. But you see, he was much more sensitive than most people, and one day he had this really tough role…

And then he just up and vanished.

Kotobuki-senpai says it so off-handedly.

Haruka Nanami: He… vanished?

Reiji Kotobuki: That event was in the news, actually. Have you ever heard about it?

Haruka Nanami: No… I’m sorry, I didn’t know anything about anyone vanishing like that due to work.

Reiji Kotobuki: He would get totally sucked into his roles. In this case, he fretted over the role all on his own, and then, in the end, he just vanished into thin air.

Kotobuki-senpai stares at the ground as he says that, his expression a little pained.

Haruka Nanami: So something like that happened…

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep. To be honest, Ai-Ai acts just like him. In fact, even his appearance and singing voice are the same.

Haruka Nanami: Even his singing voice?

Reiji Kotobuki: That’s why when I first heard Ai-Ai sing I was in total shock. Like, “Whoa, he’s totally like him!”

And now we’re going to be singing in a unit together. Every time I look at Ai-Ai, I’m reminded of that friend of mine.

Haruka Nanami: Really? That’s… that’s just...

Reiji Kotobuki: No matter how similar they look, there’s too much of an age gap for them to be the same person.

So I thought maybe they might be brothers, but when I asked about it, that theory was thrown right out the window.

Haruka Nanami: Oh… you mean that time you asked that question out of the blue.

That day at the start of the month when Kotobuki-senpai asked Mikaze-senpai if he had any siblings, after hearing him sing the unit song.

Reiji Kotobuki: Well, it’s just a coincidental resemblance, that’s all.

Ai Mikaze: What is…? What are you talking about?

I jump and spin around. There stands Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: M-Mikaze-senpai! You’re back!

Kotobuki-senpai’s usual smile appears on his face, and he waves a hand dismissively.

Reiji Kotobuki: Nothing important, just some small talk is all! Oh hey, you’re done filming for today, right? Want to go over our script together for the next scene?

Ai Mikaze: No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

Mikaze-senpai responds just like always.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ahahaha, looks like I’ve been dumped! Alrighty then, see you next week~ I’ll leave the rest to your partner here.

Haruka Nanami: Eh, what?

Waving wildly, Kotobuki-senpai calls out, “Laterrrrr~!” as he heads off.

Ai Mikaze: It looks like you’ve been tasked with something, but what?

Haruka Nanami: That it does…

Ai Mikaze: If anything, I should be the one entrusting things to my partner. How weird.

Mikaze-senpai cocks his head.

When I get home that night, I set to work on the unit song once more.

Haruka Nanami: This month has just flown by, so it’s about time I got this song finished.

Kotobuki-senpai’s words come back to me as I work on the song.

After watching him from up close, I understand now that Mikaze-senpai is always serious, hardworking, and studious.

In return for his guidance, I need to work hard and support him as his partner.

Haruka Nanami: Perhaps I should gather up these documents…

I pick up the documents for the Christmas Live that Mikaze-senpai has collected.

There are a lot of them, but I can finish them up if I go through them steadily every day after work.

Of course, if Mikaze-senpai were to do it, he’d probably have them all done in a flash.

Haruka Nanami: This is just practice by repetition! Mikaze-senpai said so himself!

By using the method I learned from him, I finish sorting the documents.

It’s good that autumn nights are long.

In the evening, after a day’s work, I can quietly help with Mikaze-senpai’s work.

Several days later…

Haruka Nanami: Good work today…

Composition Mentor: Whoa, are you okay, Nanami-san?

I am suffering from lack of sleep and overwork.

Haruka Nanami: I’m fine. I can handle this much without a problem.

Three days ago, a sudden request for assistance came in, along with the need to redo another project.

Today I’m helping as the assistant for a composer that Tsukimiya-sensei introduced me to.

I also do this three days a week. This job is usually on days when I’m not helping out at Mikaze-senpai’s studio.

Composition Mentor: Anyway, in regards to the drama BGM I had you compose the other day, the length of it will need to be changed.

Also, we’ve decided to leave half the BGM composition for the movie to you.

Haruka Nanami: What, really!?

According to him, the test BGM that I composed went over well with the director, and this means my name will appear in the movie credits.

My name will appear in a movie that Mikaze-senpai stars in…

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much!

I bow deeply.

On returning to my dorm room, I message Mikaze-senpai, who is probably still at work.

Haruka Nanami: I’ve been asked to compose some of the movie’s BGM. … There we go.

My Composition Mentor complimented me recently, telling me I’ve improved. That might be thanks to Mikaze-senpai’s instructions.

And I’m almost finished with the work I have right now.

As sleepy as I am, I feel fired up to give it my all for just a little longer.

Haruka Nanami: But… I feel a bit chilly...

I shiver from a sudden chill. Well, it is already November, so that shouldn’t come as a surprise.

I can just put on another layer to warm up and then continue working.

By the time I finish and submit everything, it is nearly dawn.

Haruka Nanami: I did it…

However, as soon as that thought crosses my mind, everything before me starts swaying and fades to white.

Hm…?

Am I… on my bed?

When I come to, I am lying on my bed.

When did I go to bed?

The moment I slowly lift my head, I hear a voice from right beside me.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, you’re awake.

Haruka Nanami: Huh!?

My eyes widen at the sight of Mikaze-senpai.

He is crouching next to my bed, resting his face on his hand with an elbow on the bed.

Ai Mikaze: Good morning. Then again, considering the time, I suppose good evening is more appropriate.

After standing, he touches my neck and peers at me closely.

Ai Mikaze: Hmm. Your complexion’s much better now. Pulse, breath rate, and level of consciousness are also normal, but your temperature seems high.

I think I get it now.

Haruka Nanami: Um, did I happen to pass out?

Ai Mikaze: That you did. You were lying on the floor when I got here. Extreme fatigue. Lack of sleep. Weakening immune system. Add it all together and you got hit with a fever. It looks like a cold.

Haruka Nanami: A cold… I see.

I feel feverish, and my throat hurts. I am also still wearing the same outfit I’d had on when I’d passed out.

As my thoughts clear, I realize something.

Haruka Nanami: Excuse me, Senpai, but how were you able to enter my room? I’m sure I locked the front door properly.

Ai Mikaze: I opened it myself.

Haruka Nanami: Huhhh!?

Ai Mikaze: I’m very dextrous, you know. It’s a simple matter to open a lock like that one.

He twirls his finger while making that off-handed reply.

Select the phrase! 

ダメじゃないですか！  You shouldn’t do that kind of thing! (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Y-you shouldn’t do that! That’s unlawful entry—it’s socially inappropriate, you know!?

Ai Mikaze: But if I hadn’t come in, you’d have been left on the floor. That would’ve been a problem.

He lets out a sigh.

Haruka Nanami: W-well, that’s true, but…

Did you come here because you were worried about me?

よく開けられましたね   I’m impressed you unlocked it (+0 Love)

Ai Mikaze: That was the first time I’ve tried it myself, but it seems I can do it if I try. I wonder what I can use this skill for.

Haruka Nanami: Maybe you can demonstrate it on a variety show?

Wait, that’s not the point!

器用にも程があります   Dextrous or not… (+10 Love)

Ai Mikaze: Do you want to learn too? First, you press your finger to the keyhole... like this…

Mikaze-senpai raises both index fingers in a strange pose as he explains.

Haruka Nanami: No, I’m fine, thank you.

Just how many different skills does he know?

I ask while lifting my body from the bed.

Ai Mikaze: I came because no matter how many times I called, you didn’t answer. When I stopped by to check, all the lights in your room were on… Could you not cause so much trouble?

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…

Ai Mikaze: It’s fine. In any case, you need to stay put until your fever goes down... and with that said—

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, what are you—eep!?

He sticks a cooling sheet to my forehead and pushes me back into bed.

Ai Mikaze: That should do it. Now if you just get some sleep you should recover on your own.

Grrrowl...

Haruka Nanami: … Ngh.

Of all the times for my stomach to growl.

Silence falls.

Ai Mikaze: “Dinner preparation” shall be added to the list for Project Caregiving. I’m going to borrow your kitchen.

Haruka Nanami: Eh, you are!? I can’t make you do that!

When I try to jump to my feet, he forcefully throws the blanket back over me and shoves me back into bed.

Ai Mikaze: This is a Mentor Order. Sleep!

Mikaze-senpai leaves the room.

Haruka Nanami: Is this… udon?

Two hours have passed since I was made to rest by the Mentor Order.

On being called downstairs to the living room, I find that the table has been neatly set with a small bowl and a single set of chopsticks, evenly spaced from one another.

Ai Mikaze: I have data that udon is suitable for proper care of a sick person. It’s easy to digest, as it’s made with water, salt, eggs, and white powder… that’s what I used, right there.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, flour. Wait, does that mean this is all handmade?

“That’s right,” Mikaze-senpai replies with a nod.

It is hard to believe that the beautiful, flat-sided udon noodles that float with the eggs in the broth are handmade.

Haruka Nanami: It’s so well done. This looks delicious…

Ai Mikaze: That’s enough staring, now eat up. This is the first time I’ve ever made udon, so I’m not sure if I did it right.

He also takes a seat.

Haruka Nanami: I think this is more than good enough. Thank you so much for this meal!

I pick up the chopsticks and lift an udon noodle to my mouth… and notice something.

Haruka Nanami: Semhai, d'you ha'en to cut th'noodles?

At my question, he tilts his head.

In fact, the noodles are really just one very long noodle, and no matter how much I slurp it up, I can’t see the end.

According to Mikaze-senpai, he had the data for the width of the noodles, but he didn’t know how long to make them. And so, this result.

Ai Mikaze: Well, it’s said that in cases like this you have to just suck it up in one go. Do your best.

I’m not sure whether to call him skillful or clumsy. This udon is very unusual, but it tastes delicious.

As I eat, Mikaze-senpai watches me with apparent interest.

Ai Mikaze: Just to be sure, it does taste good, right?

Haruka Nanami: Yes, of course. It’s delicious… and more importantly, it’s something you made for me.

Ai Mikaze: How is something that I made different from something I didn’t make?

Haruka Nanami: Well, your kindness in cooking this makes me happy, for one. It makes the udon taste even better.

Ai Mikaze: Kindness, huh… As long as it tastes good, I’ll consider it a success.

Mikaze-senpai rests his chin on both hands as he continues to watch me eat.

Haruka Nanami: Um, when you stare at me like that, it’s, um, it makes me kind of nervous…

Ai Mikaze: I want to know how you react, to make sure I’m doing a proper job of taking care of you. No need to be so stiff in your own home.

Haruka Nanami: That’s true, but still!

This might be the first time I’ve ever been so tense in my own home.

Ai Mikaze: My kindness, was it? If something like that can make you happy, then it might not be such a bad thing.

Haruka Nanami: That was delicious. Thank you very much.

Now that I have eaten well, I feel more energized than before.

Ai Mikaze: Well? What were you even doing that resulted in you lying unconscious on the floor?

He points to the spot on the floor in front of my laptop.

Haruka Nanami: Uhh… I finished all my own work yesterday. There was also the retake which I also somehow managed to do...

Ai Mikaze: Listen here, you’re not as strong as I am, so you can’t overwork yourself.

I took a look at the documents you finished, and… those were originally mine, weren’t they?

Haruka Nanami: You looked at it!? But it wasn’t finished yet!

Ai Mikaze: That’s for sure. Even the parts you finished were crudely done. If you have the time to do work that you’re not responsible for, spend that time taking care of yourself.

Oh shoot, I made him mad…

Ai Mikaze: First and foremost, the thing you should be focusing on is the unit song. You’ve been making progress, right? May I hear it?

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes! Of course!

I hurry to prepare the music.

SONG: "QUARTET NIGHT" (S Rank)

Ai Mikaze: I’d give this about 80 points.

Haruka Nanami: Then, umm… you consider 50 points as a full score, then I got 160%...?

Ai Mikaze: Uh, no, this time it was out of 100 points. You can’t exceed 100% here.

In other words…

Haruka Nanami: I got a high score?

Mikaze-senpai scribbles a flower mark on my sheet music sitting in front of my laptop.

Ai Mikaze: This isn’t half bad, but… let’s see, how about doing some research on what’s popular in music right now and adding that?

For example, you could change the timbre of the synth drums and make it sound a little more sparkly, like this...

When Mikaze-senpai makes the change he’d suggested, the music immediately begins to sound brighter.

Ai Mikaze: The piece needs to sound like something you would write, but it’s also important to analyze data and properly incorporate good technique into your compositions to create a good piece.

Haruka Nanami: That’s very good advice…

Is this the result of his daily research and analysis?

Ai Mikaze: This much is only natural. Alright, I’m going to go clean up.

While I sit there, amazed, Mikaze-senpai stands up from his seat next to me.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I’ll take care of the clean-up. Please sit down again…

As soon as I say that, he sets his hand on my head and holds me in place.

Ai Mikaze: When you’re that shaky on your feet? Absolutely not. I’m not giving you permission.

Haruka Nanami: Alright… I’ll leave it to you.

With a silent nod, Mikaze-senpai heads for the kitchen.

I totter back to the sofa. Truthfully I am still a little shaky from the fever.

Shortly after, I hear the kitchen faucet being turned on.

I can’t just let myself be taken care of like this; I need to hurry up and get over this cold.

Ai Mikaze: Hmmm, hm-hmm, hmm-hm-hmmm, hmmm~

… A song?

I can hear a light melody coming from the kitchen.

It seems like even Mikaze-senpai hums. Curious, I find myself listening closely to the playful tone.

Ai Mikaze: Huh? The dish soap isn’t coming out...

The song stops abruptly.

Now that I think about it, I am almost out of dish soap.

I quickly stand up and stride to the kitchen.

Haruka Nanami: Excuse me, there’s another bottle of dish soap under the sink—!?

As I speak, my feet get tangled up, and I lose my balance.

Ai Mikaze: Wha—whoa!?

When Mikaze-senpai hurriedly tries to support me, he also loses his balance, and we go down hard.

After a moment, I realize I’ve landed on top of him.

Ai Mikaze: … Nnnn…

And what’s more…

My lips are pressed directly to his.

Haruka Nanami: ...!?

I jerk back.

Spices and kitchenware are scattered around, and right before me is Mikaze-senpai.

Ai Mikaze: … Hahh… what are you doing? This is exactly why I said I didn’t need any help…

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m so sorry! … Um, here—!

In a panic I reach under the sink and pull out a bottle of dish soap.

Haruka Nanami: Here’s the dish soap.

Ai Mikaze: Now isn’t the time to be worrying about the dish soap.

We stare at one another without moving.

Eventually Mikaze-senpai places his hand on my cheek, and then lightly bumps his forehead to mine.

Ai Mikaze: Did your fever go up again?

He speaks while our foreheads are still touching.

After that, Mikaze-senpai hands me cold medicine and applies another cooling sheet to my forehead.

Neither of us bring up that kiss...

Instead we chat for a while about work-related things.

The sudden home visit comes to an end at last, and Mikaze-senpai prepares to leave.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll be going now. Take care.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, no, don’t worry about me. Please take care on your way home.

I escort him to the front of the dorms and Senpai bows to me graciously.

He is being very proper, but it must have been quite a sight to see in the middle of the street.

Ai Mikaze: At this rate you’re going to make all that caregiving go to waste. Hurry up and return to your room.

Haruka Nanami: But after all you did for me, I absolutely have to see you off.

Reiji Kotobuki: Huh…? What’re you two doing in a place like this?

As we banter, I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

Haruka Nanami: Hm?

When I turn around, I see Kotobuki-senpai staring at us from across the road.

Ai Mikaze: Reiji? What about you, what’re you doing here, on the roadside?

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh, I popped by Otoyan’s place to hang out for a bit and now I’m headed home. Kouhai-chan, what happened to your forehead?

Haruka Nanami: Ah! The cooling sheet!

I totally forgot I had it on. It seems I headed out without taking it off.

Ai Mikaze: Really, what do you think you’re doing…? Is your head not working right from the fever?

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…

Observing our interaction, Kotobuki-senpai chuckles and nods his head in some silent affirmation.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ohoho, I see~ Would this happen to actually be a date, but you’re just saying you’re taking care of her?

Haruka Nanami: H-huh!?

My face burns up, as if my cold has come back in full force.

Reiji Kotobuki: Naughty, naughty~ Romance is forbidden for idols, you know~?

Mikaze-senpai’s eyes narrow and his face scrunches up.

He steps in front of me and faces down Kotobuki-senpai.

Ai Mikaze: It was nothing. Sure, we kissed—but it wasn’t a date—she was just feeling sick so I made her some udon and took care of her for a while! Got it?

Reiji Kotobuki: Ohhh, I see, you were taking care of her while she was sick! Udon, aha, I see, that’s delici—eh? EHHH!? K-kissed!?

Mikaze-senpai speaks so fast that it seems Kotobuki-senpai has trouble keeping up, and ends up in a panic.

Haruka Nanami: M… Mikaze-senpai…!?

Everything he said is the truth, but he dropped a major bombshell in there!

Ai Mikaze: Everything we did was completely normal behavior for partners. So it’s nothing, nothing happened, nothing’s wrong!

His words are intense, and as he speaks, Mikaze-senpai takes another step forward right up to Kotobuki-senpai.

Reiji Kotobuki: O-okay, I got it, I understand, so just calm down! I’ll hear you out! Yep, let's do that, please go ahead!

Kotobuki-senpai concedes to Mikaze-senpai with no hesitation.

Ai Mikaze: You’re going to keep it a secret that you met us here. That is all. Problem solved.

Reiji Kotobuki: Okay. Got it.

Mikaze-senpai nods once, satisfied.

Ai Mikaze: Good. Well then, good night. I’ll see you some other time.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes, you as well.

He spins on his heel and strides off.

Haruka Nanami: Umm… Kotobuki-senpai...?

Reiji Kotobuki: Hahaha, it’s alllll good! I’m famous for my tight lips! They don’t call me Rei-chan the Clam for nothing!

Haruka Nanami: I, uh, I see.

I get a feeling that there is a misunderstanding somewhere.

Reiji Kotobuki: But seriously, that was a real surprise. Details aside, that Ai-Ai was actually taking care of you, huh?

For some reason he looks happy.

Reiji Kotobuki: Far as I can tell, you’re the first he’s done that for. Anyhoo! I’m off now. And, umm. Take care!

He heads off down the sidewalk again, waving his hand as he walks.

Haruka Nanami: The first person… he’s done that for?

For some reason, hearing that makes my heart race uncontrollably.

The next day, I get a text.

Haruka Nanami: Hm, it’s from Mikaze-senpai.

Maybe it’s a message about the schedule?

Good work. This is Mikaze.

Sleep is essential for recovery from a cold.

If there’s anything you need, make sure to contact me right away.

That’s all. I look forward to working with you in the future.

Haruka Nanami: It looks like he really is worried about me.

The message is short and to the point, but this is the first personal text I’ve ever gotten from him.

My chest grows warm.

Chapter End