I was rehearsing in the same empty classroom I always used for practice.
But it didn't feel the same anymore.
Not since I met him.
Not since he stopped outside the door and listened to me sing.
Not since I turned down his offer to collaborate.
And especially not since he dropped that diss track.
My voice wavered, and I stopped mid-note, staring at my reflection in the dark window.
What am I even supposed to feel?
Angry?
Embarrassed?
Hurt?
Do I deserve it?
The question wouldn't leave me alone, crawling around in the back of my head no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
Was I too harsh?
I told myself I was just being honest. Professional. That's how this industry works, right? But the way I said it… the way I looked down on him without even realizing it…
My chest tightened.
Still—some of the things he said were disgusting.
I don't flash my panties on stage. And I never— What does he even mean by "the producer is feeling me"?!
My face burned just thinking about it.
Ugh. Stupid. Perverted. Shiba-kun…
I imagined slapping him. Pinning him down. Slapping him again just to wipe that smug tone out of his voice.
…But even as the thought crossed my mind, it faded just as quickly.
Because no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I knew the truth.
I had pushed him there.
And that realization hurt more than any lyric ever could.
I heard the news.
Shiba-kun had been offered a deal. A real one. From a label.
For a moment, my chest felt light.
Despite everything, I wanted to be happy for him. I really did. I'd seen how serious he was about music—how much it meant to him, how desperately he clung to it like it was the only thing keeping him afloat.
I wanted to smile.
But the feeling wouldn't settle.
If I couldn't be angry at him…
And I couldn't be happy for him either…
Then what was I supposed to feel?
Ugh. Shiba-kun, you idio—
"What are you doing?"
My heart jumped straight into my throat.
I spun around.
He was standing there.
Shiba-kun.
And—oh no.
I realized too late that I'd been slapping my own cheeks, trying to shake my thoughts away. He'd seen all of it.
Every second.
Every stupid, embarrassing second.
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
I coughed lightly, forcing my posture straight, scrambling to pull my idol voice back together.
"Sh-Shiba-kun?" I said, a little too loud. "What are you doing here?!?"
Why did it come out like that?!
I could feel my face burning, my heart racing, my thoughts spiraling all over again.
"I mean… this classroom's on the way to the entrance," he said with a shrug, eyes blank as ever. "Hard not to hear an idol girl squeaking and slapping her own cheeks."
Mou…!
That's your fault I'm like this…!
I bit the inside of my cheek, turning my face away before he could see how red I'd gotten. My head was a mess—too many thoughts crashing into each other at once.
The diss.
The deal.
The way he looked at me now, like nothing I did could really shake him.
Say you're sorry.
No—be mad.
No—congratulate him.
No—yell at him for that stupid song.
Why was this so hard?
I clenched my fists, then relaxed them, then clenched them again.
"…You didn't have to go that far," I muttered, barely loud enough to count as a complaint. "You know people actually listen to you now."
Why did that sound like concern?
I hated that it did.
"Do I really gotta explain why I did what I did? I mean… it's not even the criticism. But the way you said it—way to rub salt in my wounds and expect me to stay quiet," he chuckled drily.
The words hit me like a slap.
Okay… I get it. I do go overboard sometimes.
It's not that the fame got to my head, but… the stronger I seem, the harder it is for people to look down on me.
Or so I thought. This guy… he literally made a whole diss track because of a little criticism I gave?
I let out a frustrated sigh.
"Well… at least you got a record deal out of this," I said, just trying to say something, anything.
"I turned it down," he said flatly.
Wait. What?
"I just wanted to send you a message," he shrugged, like nothing bothered him.
"Climbing the industry on your back would be humiliating, at this point."
Send me a message?
And what's that about climbing the industry on my back? You wanted to.
Hypocrite. Don't pretend you didn't. You wanted to do a song with me to gain traction, didn't you?
"Nah. Not really. I was just captivated by your voice…" he said, as if he'd read my thoughts.
"And I'm a loner, so I thought—good way to befriend a beautiful girl I have something in common with."
W-What? How did you—Did I say it out loud?
Nooo… this is too embarrassing…
And yet…
No. I can't believe you just wanted to be friends with me.
Even as I thought that, my chest tightened with an emotion I couldn't quite name.
I wanted to say something. Anything. But nothing came out.
"Oh. If you'll excuse me. This is my first day at my new part-time job. Don't wanna be late," he said casually, raising a hand in greeting before disappearing.
"W-Wait!" I called after him.
He stopped.
"What?"
That's what I'm asking. What? Why did I even go after him?
Ugh… say something, Aika… anything…
"Umm… g-good luck, Shiba-kun…"
It came out weaker than I intended.
He muttered a thanks and walked away.
And there I stood, watching his back grow distant down the empty corridor, not knowing what to feel.