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“I’m still mad at you,” Haruka mutters curtly, her voice petering out as she steps away from where she put down the phone. Touma hears a distant clatter through the speaker; the image of her dropping her purse unceremoniously onto a table comes to mind. It’s uncharacteristic of her.
He wonders if that’s what she felt about him when he saw her twelve hours ago.
His fist slammed into the table. “Who is he?!” he roared. She didn’t even get a sentence in before he pushed past her and towards her closed bedroom door.
“Wait! It’s not what you—”
The door revealed a man wearing blue-and-white cap rising from her bed. Touma saw red and his arm immediately swung.
Considering that he got his girlfriend, who has the patience of a saint, angry at him, he’s still in deep shit. He wants to say, “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” but knows that will just dig his grave deeper. Touma bites his tongue and nods. Obviously Haruka can’t see it.
“Doesn’t have to be a long call tonight,” he offers. “Just… wanted to know that you made it safely.”
Her voice returns with a huff. “Why wouldn’t I have made it safely? You don’t trust my staff now?”
“Touma, STOP!”
Haruka shoved him mid-swing and his fist connected to her wall. The man in the cap was more horrified at the wall damage than the potential damage to his face, had the hit connected. Still irrational, Touma pulled back to strike again, when another man in the same cap walked in with a cardboard box labeled, ‘books.’
She’s at the retorting phase now. Yet, the edge of softness in her voice suggests that while she’s annoyed at him, she’s aware of his care and is still touched by it. Touma tries to see past the irate tone and grasps at this sliver of favor.
“Glad to hear you checked into the hotel.”
“Yep,” Haruka says. She pauses, as if contemplating whether or not to be compassionate in the heat of their argument, and goes for it. “Thanks for paying for it.” Pulls back a bit. “It’s the least you could do.” She softens when he lets slip a wince. “Are you rooming with the boys?”
“Not this time, I’m with our manager. He’s in the shower right now.” And good thing too, because Hokuto had already reprimanded him for his earlier actions and Shouta mocked him endlessly. He knows what he did wrong, and frankly, he’s heard enough. He feels a headache coming. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hectic.”
“Concert day.” Haruka sighs. “Well, I shouldn’t be keeping you. You need to rest to make it through tomorrow.”
Even in her anger, she still cares about him. He wished he was even half that compassionate during his tempers; maybe that would have prevented this whole mess from happening.
“Sleep well,” Touma murmurs into the phone. A beat, then he added hastily, “Love you.”
He cringes. The slight pause on her end tells him that she’s pursing her lips with a frown, as she usually does when something isn’t sitting right with her.
“Good night,” she says quietly.
Click.
A heavy sigh leaves his lips. Don’t go to bed angry, he’s been told, by her no less, and yet here they are. Hypocrite, a flare of anger comes up in his chest, but Touma quickly snuffs it; he was the one who started it, he shouldn’t expect her to end it.
“What is wrong with you!?” she screamed. “Your anger has gotten out of control! I told you I was moving into the new apartment this morning!”
“You could’ve called me for help!” He’s in the wrong but his pride was hurt, and he masked it with fury. “You were alone with them!”
“What are you talking about?! You have a flight to catch in three hours!”
“They could’ve hurt you!”
“ You’re the dangerous one here!” Haruka touched the hole in the wall, appalled. He’s keenly aware of the pain radiating from his knuckles. Touma was about to retort that she cared more about the hole than his injury, when he recalled that when she pulled him back from the moving company workers, she inspected his scratches before letting go. Shame reddened his face.
He stormed toward her door. “I was only trying to protect you!”
Haruka whirled around, eyes blazing, and shoved him outside. “Protect me? You were validating your jealousy! I’m tired of you, it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you ‘I love you’, you never believe me!”
The memory makes him cringe at his declaration of love once more. Knowing Haruka, since she didn’t actually say she was breaking up with him, she’s still technically his girlfriend. Hopefully. But their relationship is undoubtedly strained, if not completely tarnished for his terrible accusation.
Now, it feels like the woman that he wanted to protect and cherish is leaving him.
~~~~~
Touma has never felt so uneasy before a concert in his life. Not even when he was dealing with a mild stomach bug during trainee tryouts all those years ago. Aside from the bandages on his knuckles, the emotional aftermath of yesterday’s fight still lingers in his heart, and he’s unable to focus on any of the songs for tonight.
“Just…” His manager struggles to find the right words to comfort him after dismissing everyone from the sound check. “...do your best.”
Hokuto and Shouta give him worried looks before heading backstage. Touma wishes the light beams would burn him up so he wouldn’t have to perform. He just wants to go home.
But even if he returns, Haruka wouldn’t be there.
Hours fly past and soon he’s walking in the dark onto center stage with his guitar. Screaming cheers increase when the lights flash on, the beams reflecting off of his guitar and into the sea of fans. Hands rise to catch them, hoping for a chance to grab his attention. Touma finds himself scanning the shadowy audience for a familiar face and nearly misses his cue.
As if she’d come after yesterday, he thinks to himself, fingers playing purely out of muscle memory. She probably gave her ticket away. For free. Still, unlike him, Haruka is not cruel.
“TO-U-MA! HO-KU-TO! SHO-U-TA!”
“WE LOVE YOU, TOUMAAAAA!!”
Ironic, isn’t it? Even with all the love his fans pour onto him— hundreds times more than a single girl— none of it fills his heart. There’s a gaping hole where Haruka’s love goes, a puncture wound the size of his fist. And she has the emotional maturity to not be jealous of his fans. Why can’t he be the same? They’re in the same line of work, for goodness sake. Touma tries to concentrate on the music in his earpiece, strumming along with the electric guitar.
Somehow, a beam of light hits the glossy surface of his guitar and shines on a face. He looks up immediately and catches Haruka’s blue eyes. She’s in the crowd, waving a green light stick, but she’s not screaming.
She doesn’t have to to declare her love for him. Her just being there is more than enough. The fawning girls around her scream and scream, chanting their affection for him. And yet, while Haruka doesn’t shout with them, her pure smile, upturned eyes, and clapping hands that form a heart, are much louder than the auditorium combined.
"I love you more," he says into the mic, and the fans shriek in joy. Haruka's smile falters.
He really has taken her love for granted.