He scrolled down his emails, mindlessly reading the subject names of each one. 'Festival Organization', 'Live Event', things related to either of those two topics popped up most frequently. Rather, they were the only subject they were about. He groaned, leaning into his palm. He couldn't get that frustrated from it, though— he was BAD DOG after all. A singer.

     As he moved the cursor upwards, he noticed an older one— about a month old— sitting at the bottom, beneath all the ones about festivities and useless shows that no one would attend. 'Long time no see, li'l bro!' was it's subject line, typed in an unnecessarily fancy and mostly unreadable font.

     'Hey!
How've you been, Shinonome? I tried texting you before, turns out you had your phone number changed. I couldn't find your current number online either, so sorry if you see this late! I'm coming back to Shibuya in a month. Exactly a month, actually. I don't remember the airport name, but it's that one that got built recently. Hoping to see you there, if you see this in time.
     Mizuki'

     His eyes widened as he stared at the message, darting back and forth between the date and their name, as if he thought he was hallucinating. Two days from now, Mizuki was coming back. Mizuki was coming to Shibuya. The mouse hovered over the reply button shakily, the only thought circulating inside of his mind being about what he should do.

     He felt uncharacteristically timid, hesitant, to talk to her for the first time in years. Years that felt like decades, centuries. Would they even want to talk to him?

     No.

     They would.

     They told him they were returning for a reason.

     They would've just forgotten about him if they didn't. Quit being so pessimistic.

     He sighed, closing the tab as he glanced at the top of the screen. The digital clock read 12:06 A.M, the realization of how long he had been outside for and reading those unimportant texts shocking the exhaustion into him, carrying his body into his bed.

     Two days.

     Two days.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
     He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he approached the airport, picking at the deepest parts of them. The loud chatting of surrounding people and the roaring of airplane engines filtered into his ears, everything else becoming something akin to white noise.

     It was loud, surprisingly busy for an average Tuesday afternoon. He stepped inside the building, his feet landing on the rubber ground. He felt out of place in there, as if he were a microphone left in the midst of tangled up speaker wires. His eyes darted across the building, looking out for any signs of pink; he wanted to leave with them as fast as possible.

     Finding none of that color, he drove himself deeper into the airport, swiftly moving away from any strangers as he approached a bench. He sat down, self-consciously shifting around until he found a position he deemed to be adequate.

     He drummed his fingers against his thigh, images circling and flashing into his head for no apparent reason. Frames of different shades of blue— light and pale, cyan, and something only a few shades lighter than navy blue— blurred throughout his mind, resembling certain people he couldn't name at that second. Other hues of browns and pinks were present, as well, however were almost entirely covered by the opposing color. He could visualize the colors swirling, blinking, turning into images and memories he had attempted to block out long ago. The pictures, though, were only momentary, disappearing just as quickly as he had from everyone's lives.

     "Li'l bro!" He jerked his head upwards, olive eyes briefly scanning the building before landing upon the pink-haired person. Mizuki.

     They ran towards him, nearly knocking over anyone who happened to be within her pathway. The bags they were dragging behind them made short echoing sounds as they bumped into cracks, before she toppled onto the bench, tightly wrapping her arms around him.

     "It's been so long! I didn't know if you'd see my email, hehe," she giggled, still not releasing their hold on the ginger. "How's Ena been?" She asked as he awkwardly hugged her back, his body tense.

     He didn't know how to act.

     "She's been fine," he frowned, something in him dropping at the immediate mention of his sister. "How come you didn't mention her in your email?" He bit his lip nervously, his hand still thumping against his leg.
     "I didn't know if you wanted to hear her name immediately," they shrugged. "Besides, I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet her again yet. I don't know if she's changed, or if she cares. You know what I mean?" He looked at her, saying nothing. They sat there in a tense silence.
     "Yeah." The words escaped his mouth with a sense of relief, a fine tone composed of understanding and realization. "Yeah," he repeated.

     They both sat there, bathing in a newfound sense of relaxation, before Mizuki spoke up again.

     "So! Can we go to you-know-where? I'd like to catch up."
     "Hah? Where?" He cocked his head to the side.
     "You know where! The place where I was third wheeling!" She exclaimed, gesturing little people talking.
     "Dude, you invited Toya and I," he groaned, glaring at her with feigned annoyance.
     "I didn't mention Toya," they teased in response, covering their mouth as they giggled. "But seriously, can we go?"
     "Oh. Right. Sure." His brows burrowed at the joke, his mind wandering elsewhere for a brief moment. Why did he have to think of Toya first?

     That wasn't relevant at that moment, though.

     No. Mizuki was here, one of his childhood friends.

     That should be more important, the center of his thoughts.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
     His eyes darted away from Mizuki and the waitress, thoughts about how their conversation would go circling throughout his mind, his body. There was nothing particularly noteworthy to look at, nothing to pretend like he was paying attention to, other than two elders, seated far behind the two.

     He didn't feel tense, though.

     It didn't feel like he was holding everything in, as if he were walking on a tightrope as he had been with An and Toya, his former partner and his first love. Nothing was on the line, not his reputation or his sanity, only temporary feelings that he was sure could be resolved through other means.

     That thought, though, that he could be comfortable, that he could converse normally, only led him to more and more questions. Why? Why did he feel like he had to be on eggshells around Toya? Why couldn't he just act like himself?

     Why did it all feel more normal online?

     The words felt as if they were clogging his head, like a mixture of notes and sounds that sounded more like opposing items clashing amidst what otherwise should have been a beautiful melody. Messy. Almost like a single word- a single note- could cause everything to come crashing down. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

     "Oi! Akito! Don't come zoning out on me!" The pink-haired clapped in front of his face, dragging him out of his spiraling thoughts. "What's up?"
     "What?"
     "What've you been up to?" She clarified, the upper part of her beige dress loosely hanging off of her. "I've heard you got big, right?"
     He narrowed his eyes briefly, olive eyes attempting to read over their expression before responding with a mere, "yeah."
     "That's not a great answer, ya' know. I'm sure you would've answered with much more before," she teased, yet it only left Akito with a sort of emptiness.

     Emptiness that, by now, should've faded. It should've just been a phase. Nothing more. Complete, utter nausea.

     Yet, within the midst of that cold, was a hint of warmth. The faintest spark of familiarity, of comfort, a presence that he had almost entirely forgotten. Still overwhelmed by the cold, he shuddered it off, attempting to do the same with the attempt at banter.

     "That sounds more like Toya," he said, immediately mentally scratching at his face for mentioning him again.
     "Oh? Does it now, li'l bro? Maybe your behaviors rubbed off on each other," they laughed, straightening their back.
     "And I guess they went away for both of us too, then," he murmured, lightly shrugging.
     "Mm? What was that?"
     "Nothin'."

     The two sat there in silence, nothing worming its way into it. Neither felt the need to say anything, to move or to think. It was only blissful silence, ignoring the loudness of the nearby kitchen and aforementioned couple behind them.

     The ginger's eyes darted upwards as he heard the other's clothes rustle, noticing how they looked down at him with a sort of curiosity and guilt, nostalgia.

     "Ya' know, I wish I could've stayed here." They crossed their arms, leaning forwards into themselves. "Instead of moving to America."
     "How come?" He asked, not bothering to fix his slouched over posture.
     "Well, for starters," they began, gently shoving her purse into her lap, "I haven't spoken to Kanade or Mafuyu in almost half a year. Neither have I with Toya, but I guess he cut me off a bit earlier than that." Akito could feel his chest tightening as they finished.
     "He cut you off?" He sounded unconvinced, tilting his head to the side.
     "Yeah. I think he took your leave the worst? I mean, not to say he went back to his old habits, no. No, he didn't do that. He just stopped talking to Tenma and I, said something along the lines of 'I wanna be able to move on'," they explained, an apprehensive smile resting on their lips. "I don't blame him. I was kind of an asshole because of Ena's leave."
     "Hm," he hummed, unsure of what to say; the words felt as if they were caught up in his throat.
     "Yeah. I wish I reached out to him before, though. I'm not sure how he's been doing—"
     "He's been fine," Akito interrupted abruptly, his tone suddenly more condescending than gentle, afraid.
     "Good to know," Mizuki chuckled nervously. "But I don't I gotta elaborate any further. I guess it's just part of growing up, right?"
     "Sure," he shrugged. "I get wanting to reach out." He paused momentarily as the waitress cautiously walked over.

     Her hands tightly gripped the platter in front of her, carrying the coffee and tea the two ordered. She swiftly put it on their table, uneasiness apparent on her face for whatever reason. It was momentary, though, as she briskly walked away, not giving them a moment to thank you.

     It left Akito with the same form of tension. The type that wanted to tear him apart, the sort that had always succeeded at that.

     Wait.

     No.

     No.

     "Continue?" Mizuki gestured towards Akito, placing her hands around the cup.
     "Yeah. Sorry," he nodded, breathing in momentarily.

     This isn't supposed to be stressful.

     None of this should have been.

     "I don't know how to interact with Toya anymore, despite wanting to," he spoke, watching his reflection cast onto the light yellows of the tea. "I s'pose it's just apart of not being able to do much anymore."
     "Huh. Well, you did leave a few days after kissing him—"
     "Shut it," he hissed immediately.
     "Whoops, sorry, sorry. God, I could not imagine talking to Ena after all this time; what would we even talk about?" She sighed hazily, downing a sip of the drink. "Hearing you and Toya have awkward interactions sounds so, surreal, you know."
     "Having awkward interactions with singing is also unreal," he muttered under his breath, quietly laughing at himself. Not out of humor, but out of how god awfully pathetic he felt. He took a small sip of the tea, the heat burning the tip of his tongue, despite having been cooled by the outside ingredients.

     An abrupt silence took over. He glanced upwards, realizing the other's pink eyes, typically so vibrant, staring at him so dully.

     "Singing?"
     "Oh, shit, ignore that comment," he cursed, his chest tightening to a near painful extent. "It's not important."
     "Singing's been... eh? You've found it difficult?" She asked, her brows furrowed. "As in, the passion for it faded?"
     "S'pose so," he sounded desperate, in some way, desperate for something, something that neither his childhood friend nor him could provide, find. "It's just been more difficult is all," he said defensively, his voice unintentionally raised.

     He, in the back of his mind, expected them to laugh at him, to tease him for it.

     He expected to regret mentioning it, to swear he'd never let it tumble past his lips again, that he didn't mean it.

     He was BAD DOG.

     He couldn't give up, could he?

     He wanted to feel pride in it. He wanted to seek out motivation to continue this life, to go on as BAD DOG. Desperately, he would be willing to scratch and dig for it.

     He was BAD DOG for a reason, wasn't he?

     Yet, that name still seemed to leave a bitter taste stuck to his tongue, choking him as his throat closed around it. Captivating and encaging, he wasn't sure if he was ever bound to escape. That name hurt his ears, his chest, he couldn't figure out why he suddenly wanted to seek that same stinging out.

     "I'm gonna head out now."
     "Hm?! Wait, Akito, I don't think now's a great time," they reached out, yet not grabbing his shoulder.
     "My number's (###)###-###, bye," he waved, quickly rushing out of the store, leaving Mizuki standing there and the bells by the door jingling.

     That god-awful name.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
     That oak scent drifted throughout the house, reminding him of his purpose for doing this, for defying his own passions and interests. He wondered if this was selfish, to reach out to someone in this fashion, but he only shook his head in response; this wasn't the time for doubt.

     He coughed into his forearm as he prepared the background music on his phone, his throat straining and his body becoming heavier and heavier. This wasn't for him.

     It would never be for him.
     This entire act, this entire practice was all for him.
•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
WORD COUNT: 2365
what on earth happened. my motivation skyrocketed today