Chapter Text
“Do you regret it?” Iori swirled her drink around, the ice cubes clinking against the sides of the glass. The bar was quiet, save for the soft jazz music of the pianist. Iori and Shiho were sitting at the bar, their bandmates sitting farther away in a booth. It was dim, just the kind of lighting Iori liked; it was a good way to chill her nerves after a show.
Shiho tapped a rhythm to the jazz music, deliberating as he stared into the depths of his glass.
“Do you want me to be kind or honest,” Shiho shot back in turn, gripping onto his own glass tightly.
Iori raised an eyebrow, expecting Shiho to understand that the answer to that question should be rather obvious by now, with how long Shiho has known her now.
Shiho simply raised an eyebrow in return, and Iori sighed, unwillingly having to say the obvious.
“Honest, preferably.”
Shiho swirled his drink, making Iori wait for his response. “Yeah. I do regret it.” Shiho took a swig from his drink, and Iori just watched him, waiting for him to say more.
The minutes passed. Iori listened to the chatter of their other bandmates, happy and oblivious to their bassist’s problems. Hell, Iori only noticed because she knew his sound. His sound lacked something, ever since that day five years ago.
The day he joined STANDOUT.
The moment he got back up on stage, she saw it. The disappointment, the hurt, and the fear.
The joy of being able to go pro.
Things were different back then, when Shiho was a sixteen year old who had a dream, and just left his friends (just like how you left Mio, Iori’s mind screamed), and not a miserable wreck of a twenty one year old who always had a wistful look in his eyes, a quiet “what if” plaguing his thoughts.
It occurred to Iori that Shiho still hadn’t elaborated.
“...Are you going to elaborate? About how you regret joining STANDOUT?”
“No.” He took a breath. “I don’t think I ever plan to.” The bell to the bar rang, and Shiho’s eyes wandered towards the door. His eyes widened, as if he glimpsed something that frightened him. “I’m going to take a smoke break in the back. Grab me if you need anything.” He chugged the rest of the alcohol, and set it on the bar with a loud slam.
Iori watched as he pulled his hood over his scruffy hair and ran towards the back door exit.
She simply sighed and shook her head. She looked at the bartender, and the bartender silently slid over another drink.
Iori raised the glass for a toast.
“Here’s to the regrets we all have.”
♭
Saki walked towards the bar alone, tired from a long day at university. Yes, she was planning to get hammered on a school night. Yes, she was aware that it was a terrible idea.
Well, she had her reasons. Or at least that’s what she told herself.
(She had heard rumors that STANDOUT were regulars at this bar, and that apparently could get autographs from them if they were drunk enough.
But that wasn’t what she was looking for.)
She walked up to the front of the bar, hand ghosting over the door handle. Something in the back of her mind told her that there was no going back once she opened the door.
Saki has always been a bit of a reckless soul, though.
She opened the door and stepped inside, feeling the chill of winter melt off her skin. She shivered a little bit, trying to shake off the remnants of the cold.
I should’ve asked Hona-chan for her jacket earlier…
The bell rang, and Saki’s eyes were drawn to the movement of an achingly familiar green hoodie, rushing towards the back of the bar. It was dark, but she saw the scruffy silver hair that could only belong to one person she knew all too well.
Her eyes wandered a little more, and saw STANDOUT’s lead singer. The lead singer just watched Shiho run out, and shook her head with a sigh, raising her glass for a toast.
Saki didn’t bother sticking around.
She gently pushed open the backdoor of the bar, shivering as she felt the chill of winter seep through her veins. There she found Shiho looking up at the stars, leaning on the railing, the cigarette in his hands burning its life away.
Saki sidled up right next to him, and raised her head to watch the stars too. Shiho’s eyes flicked to Saki, and he slowly moved to stub out the cigarette.
They stayed like that, looking up at the stars. Neither willing to pierce the thick silence, neither willing to take the first step.
Shiho decided to make the first move. Not a step, but something close to it. He turned to look at Saki, and took a deep breath.
“Why are you here,” he whispered, almost as if he thought Saki was a mere mirage.
Saki could’ve counted the heartbeats it took for her to respond.
Four.
“Isn’t it obvious, Shiho-chan?” Saki looked back at Shiho in turn, with a smile playing on her lips. The name tasted differently on her lips than the last time she said it.
After all, it’s been so long since she spoke with the owner.
Shiho just shook his head, and raised his head again to look back at the stars. Saki just watched him, basking in all of the changes he made since they last parted ways.
His hair was shorter. He smoked. He didn’t hold himself as confidently. There was a new melancholy in his eyes.
But there were so many things that were painfully the same.
There was the way his eyes retained that familiar sparkle when he looked up at the stars. His posture was still perfect. He still tapped out rhythms on the side of his leg when he got nervous.
Saki made sure to take in every single detail, new and old, just in case.
No, you will see him again, Saki, just believe you will. This is not going to be the last.
After watching his breath fog up in the air for a while longer, watching it drift up towards the sky, Shiho spoke.
“There’s only one reason that I can think of. But…” he trailed off, trying to grasp at the right word. “Why?”
Saki let the question ring, before it faded to silence, as all words do. She mirrored Shiho’s position, and leaned on the railing too, letting out a small wince as she felt how cold it was.
“I missed you.”
Shiho looked away.
“You could’ve at least tried to stay in contact with us.” Saki remembered the multiple times she texted Shiho, only to be left on read, or an “i’m busy at practice ttyl” with no follow up.
“I know.” Shiho fiddled with the dead cigarette in his hands.
“Y’know…” Saki lightly shoved Shiho in the side, “I decided to let you go, since it seemed like you’d be happier chasing your dream rather than us holding you back. But…” Saki gestured towards the stubbed out cigarette in Shiho’s hand, “you wouldn’t be doing this if you really were happy.”
Saki knew that those who smoked often did so for a reason. Saki knew what reason Shiho had. But she was going to hear it from him himself.
A sigh. “Saki, things aren’t the same as they were five years ago. I can’t just come back waltzing into your lives as if nothing happened.”
But you could, and we’d let you.
Saki hummed, thinking. Her gaze flickered to the cigarette stub, then back at him. All the while, Shiho kept his eyes on her, hanging on to her words.
“Shiho-chan, how often do you smoke anyways?” Saki pressed.
Shiho warily glanced at her. “How is this relevant—”
“Just answer the question.”
Another sigh. “...Not everyday. But still somewhat often. I only do it when…” his eyes turned towards the stars once more, “I only do it when I feel.. wrong. Like.. when I feel like I'm missing something .”
Saki wasn’t a genius by any means, but it didn’t take one to figure out what Shiho was missing.
“...Oh,” Saki breathed out.
Shiho let out a huff, shaking his head as he did so. “Oh, indeed.”
They stewed in the awkward silence, both avoiding the other’s gaze. The only sound that could be heard was their breaths, turning into fog in the winter air.
Saki spoke up. “We would’ve done it for you.”
“What do you mean?” Shiho inquisitively looked at Saki.
“We would’ve gone pro for you,” Saki whispered. “We would’ve done it all for you, because we would’ve enjoyed it too.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like,” Shiho bit out.
I do, I've been working with Kanade-chan to try and learn how to compose, just to try and catch up with you. Icchan does, she's been working with Mafuyu-kun to create lyrics that pierce your heart. Hona-chan has created schedules for us, just so we can try and run with you once more. We do understand.
Saki’s mind screamed for her to interject, but she decided to keep silent.
“It takes so much sacrifice if you want to have your music reach other people. It would’ve been too much, I know how much you wanted to enjoy your high school life.” His words became more and more hurried, almost as if he was trying to spit them out before he changed his mind.
“The most important part of my high school life was always going to be having you guys by my side.”
In that moment, something clicked in Shiho’s mind, and Saki registered regret filling his eyes.
They could’ve made the impossible become possible.
“But,” Saki sadly smiled, “you know how it went down.”
“...Yeah.” Shiho mirrored Saki’s smile. “I do.”
…
And that was all that needed to be said.
…
“Well, I think it’s about time I left. It was nice talking to you again.” Saki softly said. She shivered, and Shiho immediately took notice of that.
“Saki, you should’ve said that you were cold sooner. Here,” Shiho took off his hoodie, leaving nothing but a tank top underneath, “take my hoodie.”
“Shiho-chan,” Saki pushed away the hoodie, “you seriously don’t have to, besides, wouldn’t you get cold?”
“Just take the hoodie and put it on.”
Saki reluctantly took the green hoodie, and slipped it on, feeling the residual warmth from Shiho permeating her being.
“Thank you, Shiho-chan.” Her voice said his name with so much fondness, and maybe, things felt a bit more right. Saki beamed at Shiho, and Shiho couldn’t help but grin back at her in return.
“C’mon, let’s head inside now.” Shiho took Saki’s wrist (but not her hand, she noticed), and pulled her inside.
Iori waved at Shiho, and raised an eyebrow while gesturing towards Saki, who was wearing Shiho’s hoodie. Shiho just waved her off.
“Y’know, Shiho-chan, there’s always something that I wanted to do in high school but never did.” Saki gained a mischievous glint in her eyes, and Shiho wore that exasperated face that always came up when Saki was up to one of her antics.
“Fine. What is it?”
“It was something on my hundred things to do list, but I think it’s easier for me to demonstrate.” Saki quickly pecked Shiho on the corner of his lip, and when he looked back at her, her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “There. I think I can say that I’ve completed it now.”
“I— What— Okay.” Shiho was completely red, and he hid his face in his hand.
Saki giggled, and waved back at Shiho as she walked out.
“I’ll text you later! Our phone numbers are still the same!” Saki then left the bar, no longer feeling the chill of winter.
She knew that this could be the birth of something new.
…
“So, Shiho, who was that?” Iori asked Shiho, who was still looking longingly at the door.
“An old friend.” He opened up his phone, seeing a text from Shizuku, and knew that he had to leave soon.
He headed out towards the exit of the bar, but before he left, he looked back at Iori.
“She gave me a lot to think about.”