Chapter Text
The first sign that something is wrong is the silence.
Not the comfortable kind.
Not the kind Mizuki likes when she’s curled up backstage beside Ena, shoulder pressed against shoulder while the venue slowly empties. This silence is sharp. Heavy. The Nightcord at 25 group chat hasn't moved in twenty-three minutes. Twenty-three minutes. For a group chat that usually has Ena arguing with Mafuyu, Kanade apologizing for existing, and Mizuki sending stickers every five seconds, that is deeply concerning. Mizuki stares at her phone from across the dressing room.
"...Weird."
Her own reflection stares back from the mirror. Perfect makeup. Perfect smile. Perfect idol. It all feels fake today.
She reaches for the phone. The moment she unlocks it, notifications explode across the screen. Messages. Mentions. Tags. Thousands of them. Mizuki blinks.
"...Huh?"
Another notification appears.
And another.
And another.
Twitter.
Instagram.
Bubble.
Weverse.
Tiktok.
Fan forums.
News sites.
Her stomach drops. Slowly, carefully, she taps the first trending topic. “MizuEna”. The screen loads.
And then the world stops. A blurry photograph fills the display. A café. Sunlight through the windows. Two girls sitting together. One leaning forward. The other frozen. Familiar faces. Ena. Herself.
The next photo is worse.
Far worse.
The sidewalk in front of the dorms.
Ena's hand gripping the front of Mizuki's jacket.
Mizuki's eyes shut.
The space between them disappearing.
The kiss.
The headline underneath reads:
NIGHTCORD IDOLS SECRETLY DATING? SHOCKING CAFE DATE AND KISS CAUGHT ON CAMERA BY PAPARAZZI
Mizuki forgets how to breathe.
"No..."
Her voice comes out tiny. The article continues beneath. Speculations, analyses, timelines, screenshots. Old interviews. Fan theories. Every interaction they have ever had dissected like evidence in a criminal case more than ever before. A buzzing sound fills her ears.
No.
No no no no no.
The dressing room door bursts open. Ena storms inside.
"Mizuki!"
Mizuki looks up. Ena looks equally horrified. Her phone is clenched so tightly in one hand that her knuckles have gone white. For a second neither of them speak.
"You saw it?"
Silence.
"Yeah," Ena says weakly.
The room feels smaller. The air feels thinner. Mizuki looks back at the article. The photographs. That moment. The confession. Two days ago.
Only two days ago.
The memory is still warm. Still precious. Still only theirs. Or it was. Now millions of strangers have it. Millions. Ena drops into the chair beside her. For once she doesn't look angry. Just overwhelmed.
"...I can't believe this."
Mizuki laughs. The sound cracks halfway through.
"I can."
Ena glances over. Mizuki forces a smile.
"We're… idols." The word tastes bitter. "Someone was bound to catch us eventually."
"But not like this."
"No."
Not like this. Not the confession. Not the moment Ena had finally looked her in the eye and said she loved her. Not the moment Mizuki had realized every impossible dream she’d buried was suddenly real. That was supposed to belong to them. Only them.
Her phone vibrates again.
And again.
And again.
Messages flood in.
Some supportive.
Some curious.
Some invasive.
Some cruel.
Mizuki stops reading after the fifth comment questioning whether the relationship is real. After the tenth comment accusing her of using Ena for publicity. After the twentieth comment speculating about her identity. She locks the screen.
Ena notices. Her expression darkens immediately.
"Are people saying dumb shit to you again?"
Mizuki smiles automatically. The practiced idol smile.
"It's the internet."
"Mizuki.” Ena looks like she wants to say more, but hesitates. The smile slips. Just a little. Mizuki looks away.
"...Yeah." Silence settles between them. Then a hand touches hers. Warm. Mizuki stares. Ena is looking straight ahead. Refusing to meet her eyes. Clearly embarrassed. Clearly terrified. But her hand remains exactly where it is.
"I don't care what they're saying." The words are quiet.
Mizuki feels her chest tighten.
"Ena..."
"I… I know we’ve only been dating for two days. But, Mizuki…"
Now she looks at her. Her cheeks are pink. Her voice is shaking.
"I spent years caring what everyone thought."
Mizuki says nothing.
"I spent years comparing myself to everyone."
Ena squeezes her hand.
"But with you… I feel comfortable. I feel happy, and I feel fulfilled."
Another squeeze.
"I love you, Mizuki.” The words hit harder than they should. “I don’t care what others think about you, or what they’ll think of me by extension.”
She stares into Mizuki’s eyes passionately. She looks so nervous at that moment, like she’s worried about Mizuki’s response.
…
Oh.
She’s worried about Mizuki’s response.
“I love you too, Ena.” She smiles brightly at Ena. She feels like she might cry, and from the looks of it, Ena isn’t doing any better. They slowly close the gap between them. The gentle touch of Ena’s lips, chapped but so soft… it might drive Mizuki crazy. She moves her hands up, into Ena’s hair…
Then the dressing room door opens again. Kanade freezes in the doorway, as Mafuyu stands behind her. The four of them stare at each other. A long pause follows.
Then Kanade quietly says,
"...Are we interrupting something?"
"YES."
"NO."
Ena and Mizuki answer simultaneously. Mafuyu sighs.
"Good. You're both still functioning."
Mizuki raises an eyebrow.
"Barely."
Kanade enters first. Mafuyu follows. The moment the door closes, Mafuyu immediately locks it. Ena notices.
"Why did you lock it?"
"Because there are reporters downstairs."
Silence.
"...What?"
"There are reporters downstairs."
Mizuki groans. Kanade looks exhausted.
"The agency is trying to manage things."
"Manage things?" Ena repeats.
"They've been trending for six hours."
"Six hours?"
Kanade nods.
"Number one."
Mizuki drops her forehead onto the table. "I hate everything."
Mafuyu actually looks sympathetic. Which is somehow terrifying.
"They want a statement." She says.
"Already?"
"Already."
Ena groans. Kanade hesitates, then carefully places her own phone on the table. The screen displays another article. Another headline. Another photograph. This one isn't of Ena and Mizuki. It's of Mafuyu and Kanade. Standing together outside a recording studio. Kanade standing on the tips of her feet and pulling Mafuyu’s head down to kiss it.
“Oh shit.” Slips out naturally.
Kanade smiles tiredly.
“Oh shit indeed.”
“That’s… a really shitty situation.” Ena adds.
“Why is everyone shitting? Are you guys suddenly lactose intolerant?” Mafuyu says, clearly not enjoying the process of saying a bad joke, but taking one for the team to relieve the tension.
It works.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Because no matter how chaotic things become, Nightcord remains Nightcord.
Messy.
Complicated.
Ridiculous.
Always supporting each other.
Outside, reporters wait.
Outside, fans argue.
Outside, strangers dissect every detail of their lives.
But in here, in this room…
Ena's hand finds theirs again.
And this time neither of them let go.
Eventually the laughter fades.
Reality returns.
The headlines remain.
The articles remain.
The cameras remain.
The world still knows.
But whatever happens next, they'll face it together.