As much as An doesn’t want to admit it, she just wishes she can tell Kohane how she sparkles in the darkness of the night.

Sentiments appear without warning, they tend to spill like an overflowed well of water, it trinkles first and eventually floods. An offers crooked smiles between meaningless collections of meaningful words, each one being caught by the wind, eventually stopped by hair that flew uninvited over her lips.

Kohane’s hair swayed in the same pattern– somehow so perfect at each individual breeze. Both pigtails swayed to her left, brushing against her rosy cheeks, against her bubbly face and euphoric presence above An. Not that she was taller, she simply says there’s no better way of watching stars pass by than with a straight back, An thinks comfort is a better condition.

All of it; it feels like she’s dreamed of this once or at every night.

Because she already knows all of this, but she can’t help but repeat it over and over in her mind, how meeting Kohane must’ve been the most perfect fate she was granted. Like the winds were always impactful for Kohane and it somehow ended with her crossing paths with her own, a gracious finale to an exposition.

“Thanks for coming out this late,” An catches of glimpse of Kohane, her pupils that grew upon realization, a reflection of herself within. “-It was a weird call, I bet. I’m grateful.”

For the first time in what feels like a century, they’re at last not surrounded by music or music-affiliated circumstances, only being met with the sounds of winds on a clear night. Music is what brought them together, music is what keeps them together– it’s times like these, too. 

“I didn’t find it weird.” Kohane began, her voice gentle on the winds, An would’ve missed it if she wasn’t paying close attention. “Remember that time I took you cloud gazing? It rained, also.”

“Hey, it could’ve been worse.”

Kohane shakes her head. “The point is, I don’t mind being here.”

An lifts her finger up, subtly, tracing unread constellations of the sky. Truthfully, she doesn’t know much about constellations, yet she indulges in each made meaning of the world, the universe hypothetically held at her fingertips.

Loud silence collided in her thoughts, her hair flying in glimmering blue, twinkles of star-designed clips reflect along silver railings. 

She’s at her most comfortable, her most relaxed state of mind; because Kohane is here. It wouldn’t have taken half a mind to figure that out, not even a miniscule time of thought, since she has such a strong tendency to call Kohane her snapshot of the galaxy. Also true: she stole that from when Kohane first told her that, when she put both of An’s hands into hers and called her ‘my own sample of the stars of the sky’.

Even if she wasn’t completely serious, An can’t help but clutch on her hoodie just remembering the scene like the back of her hand, the colors of her fingernails, the completely altered constellation of moles on Kohane’s hand.

Silence seeps back into the present tense.

“Hey, Kohane?” An is first to break it, her finger catches along the railing, flicking away scraped paint. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” 

“Stay by my side, will you now?” She asks, watching a piece of paint fly into the natural waves of wind, twirling at the gusts. She meets a gaze back with Kohane, whose eyes flickering between the stars and curious stares of Shiraishi An’s.

Kohane’s mouth opens, then it closes. Her tongue stays between her teeth, until it doesn’t. “Has my response ever changed?”

“No,” A smile grows on her face, undeniably. “Just figuring out how to break the silence.”

Her thoughts quickly fade, just for a moment, really.

—

She recalls the night after their event, her usual routine altered just a bit. 

“An-chan?” Kohane says first thing in the morning, her voice groggy and spoken through a yawn. “How long was I asleep for?”

When An meets eyes with her, she shuts her mouth. 

Watching Kohane’s cheeks puff up characteristically and how she balls up her hand into a fist to rub her eyes, affiliated. She, herself is struggling to stay at her feet, still sore from their event. Their seven or maybe nine songs they performed in one go, a night filled with sweaty palms and blasting speakers that ends with sunrise heartbeats and grogginess.

Her mind is still dazed, she thinks back to how she woke up. Kohane’s breath grazed her lips. Most of the blanket on An’s side. A tight hold of her that never released the entire time.

“I’m not sure.” An pours a cup of juice to the line, reaching the dish rack for another. “How did you sleep?”

“Not bad.” Kohane pouts her lips when she lies on the counter. “You?”

I slept differently than usual, An draws a long yawn. “Slept pretty good.” She replies, sliding a cup across the counter, it taps on Kohane’s wrist. “Orange juice. It’s good for your throat.”

Kohane raises a brow. “Is it really?” 

“No, not at all. But it’s juice.” An laughs, it’s hoarsed.

Kohane leans back on the chair, taking her first sip. “Thank you, An-chan.”

The countertop is colder than what An remembered. Pressing her arm onto it, she sips her juice and catches quick glimpses of the other girl. It’s only them in this house, echoing breaks of silence. An finds herself distracted in Kohane’s presence, she never usually catches Kohane until the day after an event– so this? Incredibly different from the regular.

She couldn’t find the words quick enough, settling for one word, weird. 

Their yawns are contagious, sunlight blares straight through thick glass sliding doors and three window frames in the corner, her vision focuses on her house. Towards the front door, there’s a mess of items along carpeted flooring. A heavy school bag, two pairs of shoes– one adorned with charms, the other a plain gray n’ white, and a pile of papers, lacking checkmarks, still.

“Are your mornings usually like this?” Kohane asks, curious. 

An holds the cup in both of her hands, the condensation running through her fingers, coating the counter. “No,” An replies. “I usually wake up late, and I listen to my playlist.” She glances at the furniture ahead of her, coated in linen and deep hues of yellow, the morning sun that captures half the world in its colors.

“Oh,” She pops her lips together. “Do you wanna go back to sleep?”

“No.” An repeats, because you’re awake right now, she doesn’t say. “I could still do the playlist, if you don’t mind, of course.”

“Go ahead.” Kohane smiles, her left dimple present when she does.

Statement; acquainted.

—

In that previous practice session, she still couldn’t get her bridge down.

“Try the bridge once more, take each lyric one step at a time.”

An doesn’t remember when it happened, but they’ve ended up on the floor of the practice room. LED lights shine tints of blue and purple over her skin, sitting in front of a stereo and catching Kohane chew on her pen again.

Ease collects within her, knowing that Kohane tolerated each mess up, that she was willing to bring her through them all. Words she sings in monotone pitches start to blend into one, guided through a chorus that revolves more into a collection of beats and melodies placed together at the roll of a dice and click of her keyboard past midnight.

She knows that the pressure isn’t on her now, but nowadays, it just can’t be helped.

Out of everyone, Kohane would understand this most. Hours and hours sitting in this room with trembling fingers and numb feet, driving their vocal cords beyond the limits in order to reach beyond the stars. Folding between pages of highlighted papers, it's a miracle she doesn’t have a paper cut or ink stains under her nails.

Her voice sings aloud, it’s so close to being perfect. It’s off, frustration is suffocating into her vocals.

Kohane tucks the pen behind her ear, leaning back against the wall. “Let’s take a minute. You don’t need to perfect it today.”

An’s breath is shallow, rough exhales in nonstop ones and twos until it’s unformulated. She’d wish things like this never happened. But that’d only mean her passion would be too easy, Kohane wouldn’t need to be here, competition wouldn’t be a concept.

She’ll try to perfect it that day, even if Kohane says otherwise. Because she wishes to stand by her side, even if that means hanging by a thread to ensure the strings align in her favor, like a guitar on the right pitch, like a siren that takes over the ocean. Like the partner that she tries so hard to be.

Statement; acquainted.

—

She inhales, opening her eyes once more, she’s back in the present.

A present tense where Kohane is beautiful as ever, her presence alone bringing a takeover that’s merely as strong as her voice. For once, she’s not surrounded by lyrics or near anyone else that could interrupt them at any given second.

They’re truly alone for the first time in forever, without a single beat, a tune of a flute, anything. It’s just the two basking in the natural light, counting stars because they didn’t bother to learn how to actually stargaze before coming here. It’s for a mutual reason, something too obvious to put into perspective. 

Kohane’s fragrance is something to melt into, the tropical scents of her shampoo, the floral accents of her perfume, whatever it may be.

When she turns to her again, her breath turns sharp.

“Do you want to read an astronomy book with me later?” Kohane asks.

An’s brows immediately furrow. “For?” 

“So when we come back, we’d actually know what we’re doing.” She replies, so monotony, An can’t tell if she’s being playful or dead serious. 

Not because it’s entirely out of the question for Kohane to pick up another inaccurately research based– pseudoscience book. But because she’s already considering that a next time will occur. An’s heart picks up in her chest, she could never figure out why. 

Maybe the constellations really did align for her this time, or Kohane just genuinely wanted to know what else to do other than stare at the crescent moon and dots on a cast of black with no other backing, either way.

“Yeah, yeah. We could.” An nods, her bangs getting caught in the drifting winds.

An finds herself back at that same word; weird. By now, it’s just become one of the many that explains how her heart pounds and her stomach swirls in circles, like when she forgot to warm up before an event or she swapped the sugar with salt in a brownie recipe. This was different though, it’s become so established, it’s an abnormal part of her normal.

Reliving each tense of being alongside Azusawa Kohane, each story connecting until it merges into one. More particularly, combining to the time they’ve spent on this balcony, taking their leave from the world, just for now.

The strings of her heart tug and tie into bittersweet ribbons, her lips dry as ever, a flaw that becomes flawless eventually.

Maybe..there’ll be a next time for this after all. An thinks, already picturing their next destination.

Somewhere decorated with white dots and natural tones of blue and white that reflect over their skin, alone once more, a short distance from her hold– anywhere in the world that’s willing to comply with such. 

As her partner, as her closest person; it’s a helpless, needy ideal that she wishes to take up her entire schedule with useless things. It could be selfish, filled with passion that drowns into hours of willingness to make her wrist and fly through clouds and inhale redefined oxygen, together. If Kohane doesn’t mind, then she’ll try not to think too deeply of it either.

To become one with the stars in the sky, so close to reach, she’s sure she’ll get there if Kohane continues to stand next to her. Charms and uneven pigtails and all.

-

Bonus: Beside You, My Muse

How was that for a show?” Kohane could hardly keep a straight face, her eyes, a bright brown under studio lighting. 

“Hey, that’s my line.” An draws the strings of her hoodie, an obvious grin wiped over her expression. “You haven’t performed better. It’s insane.” She says.

With the new school year and newer thrills, schedules only become more compact for practicing– as duos, squads, sometimes solo too. The pressure becomes amplified only by their own aspirations, the need to be an overachiever. Otherwise, it’d just be them in a room, filled with sounds of instruments and demo songs that’d never be released.

That’s alright though, An feels. She starts making poor excuses on how the weekend is too tied up, and she finds it deathly necessary to meet with Kohane earlier. Then they meet on the weekend too.

Kohane takes a deep breath, lifting the microphone to her lips. She stares ahead. “You tell me that everytime.” Her voice echoes throughout the room, a static evident in the speakers.

“Which is exactly what makes it insane!” An snaps her fingers, like she just cracked a global code.

—

“Another rainy night..” Kohane stares out the window. Wet trails slip to dark gray concrete, glass stained with streaks that return seconds later. “I’ll call you when I’m back, okay?”

An leans back against the wall, biting down on her lip. “Alright.” She pauses. “Stay safe.”

Kohane nods. She takes two steps back from the door, lifting her arms out, her fingers on the velcro of the umbrella (the one she finally remembered to bring). Then, the umbrella doesn’t open. It doesn’t at all. Because An’s fingers wrapped around Kohane’s own.

“Wait,” An stops, a projected voice stays temporarily. “I’ll take you home, I was the one who called you here, again.”

Kohane looks at her up and down. Jorts and a comic t-shirt. Her hoodie tossed on the ground. Pouring complete cats and dogs. I don’t think so, An imagines Kohane saying, she said nothing.

“Oh, and it’s bad luck to open umbrellas indoors, by the way.” She adds.

That was enough to convince Kohane (somehow), a choked giggle tuned into her ears just as stammers of rain only grew louder. An found the source, an open door, a Kohane at her sights. Let’s go– she speaks so faintly, An doesn’t even register that it was said out loud, she follows anyways.

Only once both of them stepped under the cafe’s canopy roof, Kohane pulled the velcro from her umbrella, looking up to An. As always, Kohane is snuggled up like she’s walking through a warm sunrise instead of a cold evening, she interlocks arms like it’s another stroll, hand in hand, with Shiraishi An.

An stares down as they walked, puddles that collect every three tiles, subtle streams that creep in the cracks of the pavement, the glistening of Kohane’s charms. 

One detail she notices: Kohane steps on every puddle that crosses her path, without failure. She presses her lips together, she can’t afford to laugh, not now. All because Kohane is so sweet and An wouldn’t have ever known that detail if it wasn’t for witnessing it first hand. Her shoes squeak too– all her steps make her seem like a bubbly cartoon character.

An is meanwhile directly beside her, wearing a face that she can’t fade away, she doesn’t try.

They’re in complete silence, too. Constant rain filling the void of what would’ve been nothing. Nonstop stammers fall onto the umbrella, deciphering natural rainfall from the intercepted was almost impossible in these conditions. 

Maybe, it’s too quiet. An isn’t used to it.

“Hey.” An murmurs, it’s unintelligible to Kohane. She waits a moment, then, she curls her thumb around Kohane’s. 

An slows down her steps. Kohane’s hums mellow down until it becomes one with the rain. “Hm?”

“If I take your hand right now, will you promise to not let go?” She asks, raising her voice just enough for Kohane to hear over the sounds already playing in her right ear, the outdoor ones in the other.

Naturally, Kohane’s brows furrow. Secondly, she smiles. “Find out when you take your next step, An-chan.”

She takes that answer, taking her next step. A song is in the chorus, playing on her left ear, a wire tangles under her necklace and traces to her pocket. Their fingers stay connected as they continue walking. Hypothetically, the stars continue to shine down on them.

Seeing Kohane through every aspect of their partnership; the sacrifices she made, the milestones they’re accomplished, a flash of what it could become in the future. 

Another day in the world; side by side with Kohane (even if unplanned, she’ll overdraft it on her schedule later), one more moment where they’re solidified partners again. An occasion where Kohane, once again, proves to be her muse.

—

Statement; acquainted, completed.