He didn't sleep that night.
Not really. Not in a way that meant anything. His body had gone still at some point, sure, but his mind stayed spinning — rolling every word, every stare, every whispered theory behind his back into a loop so loud it drowned everything else out.
By morning, he felt weightless.
Not rested. Just… disconnected.
He walked to school in a fog. Avoided looking at the flyer again — the one taped to the outside of the convenience store.
Avoided the stares. The whispers. The way students from other classes passed him in the hall and said things like:
"It's him."
"The manager."
"I heard he kissed her first."
"No, he's dating both of them. It's a whole thing."
And through it all — Mizuki didn't look at him.
And Ami didn't show up to class at all.
By lunchtime, he'd made a decision.
⸻
The gym was empty except for one speaker, a tangled mess of cords, and Ami Yuzuki standing dead center in the middle of the floor, going through a routine that looked more like punishment than performance. Her hair was pulled back, messy. Her hoodie hung half-zipped over a half-finished outfit. Her mouth moved without sound.
She didn't notice him at first. Just moved. Sharper than usual. Angrier.
He stood near the door, arms crossed, watching her burn herself into the floorboards.
Finally, she spotted him in the mirror. Stopped moving. Didn't say anything.
Then:
"Didn't think you'd come."
He didn't respond. Just stepped forward, pulled something out of his bag, and dropped it on the bench beside her.
A poster.
HER poster.
The one taped all over town.
Her face. Her body. Her name in neon pink.
And below it:
"Featuring: Elliot Graves – Manager."
Ami looked down at it. Then up at him.
He didn't speak with fire. Or drama.
His voice was low. Measured.
"Why the hell is my name on this?"
She blinked. "It's… it's part of the promo. The venue wanted something more. Something human. The footage went viral. They asked who you were and I just—"
He cut her off. "You just what?"
Her voice faltered.
"I told them the truth."
"That I'm your manager," he said, jaw tight. "Publicly. Without asking. Without warning."
"It wasn't like that," she said, stepping toward him. "It just happened—"
"No. It didn't just happen, Ami. You let it happen. You made it happen."
His voice rose — not yelling, but finally cracking open after days of keeping it in.
"You've been dragging me into your spotlight since the first night I saw you in this gym. First as your secret. Then your crutch. Now I'm your marketing."
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
"I didn't sign up for this," he said. "I never agreed to be part of your brand."
Ami looked down. Her fingers clenched around the edge of her hoodie.
Her voice dropped.
"I know."
She took a breath — shaky — then looked up. Eyes softer now. No defense. No sarcasm.
"I was scared."
Elliot blinked. "What?"
She spoke slowly, like each word hurt.
"After the last gig… when the crowd screamed, when you saved it — I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. Like I was real. Like I wasn't just surviving. I wanted to keep that feeling. I thought if I put your name next to mine… you'd stay."
She looked at him then. Really looked.
"Everyone always leaves, Elliot. They get tired. They get bored. They find someone louder, shinier, less… cracked."
She stepped forward again, voice barely above a whisper.
"But you didn't. You stayed. And I got selfish. I thought if I kept you close — if I tied you to this — then maybe I'd matter enough to you to not be left behind."
The room fell quiet.
He stared at her. Hurt still sitting in his chest like a stone.
"You know what the worst part is?" he said. "You didn't even need to do all that."
She looked confused.
"If you'd just asked me…" He exhaled. "I would've said yes."
Ami froze.
"I would've helped. I would've stood next to you. I would've gone on that stage, carried every bag, fixed every mic. But you didn't ask."
"You took."
Tears welled up in her eyes. She bit her lip and nodded once, eyes burning into the floor.
"I'm sorry."
It was the first time she'd said it and meant it.
He nodded.
"Don't do it again."
And with that, he turned and walked out.
She didn't follow.
⸻
The walk home was quiet. The streets were calmer than his mind.
Everything buzzed — low and constant — like white noise that wouldn't fade.
By the time he got home, the sky had dimmed.
He dropped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto his bed.
Phone buzzed.
He ignored it.
Buzzed again.
He groaned, rolled over, picked it up.
Mizuki.
He stared at the name.
Then answered.
"…Hey."
There was a small pause on the other end.
Then:
"Hey."
Her voice was quiet. Not distant — just… tired.
They didn't say anything for a few seconds.
Then she broke the silence.
"She kissed you."
"…Yeah."
"Do you love her?"
He sat up slowly. Rubbed his face.
"I don't know."
Mizuki exhaled. Not a sigh. Just air leaving carefully.
"It's okay. You don't have to explain. I just… I wanted to hear your voice."
He smiled faintly, leaning his head back against the wall.
"She did it out of adrenaline. Fear. The moment. It wasn't planned."
"Still counts."
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?"
He thought about that.
Then answered honestly.
"No."
She didn't say anything else for a while. Then:
"When you are… come find me."
The call ended.
He lowered the phone to his lap. Closed his eyes.
It buzzed again.
Ami.
He almost didn't pick up.
Then did.
"…You really want to do this now?"
She sounded… small.
"I'm sorry, Elliot. For all of it. The name, the promo, the pressure. I wasn't thinking. I was scared. But you didn't deserve that. And you don't owe me anything."
Silence.
"Just… don't disappear, okay? Not completely. You're the only thing that feels real when the lights turn off."
He closed his eyes.
Let the silence sit for a moment.
"You should've asked."
Then he ended the call.