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Airi looked all too proud when she returned to the dorms.
One not as well-versed in her Airi-isms might not have been able to tell, but it jumped out at Haruka right away: the way she bit the corner of her lip in excitement, the shiny look on her face, how her fingers tightened around the straps of her backpack when a manager walked by.
“What is it?” Haruka asked her when she approached, eager already by proximity.
(She’d returned from school an hour earlier than Airi and waited for her the whole time, realizing with a start that she briefly had nothing to do. She scrolled through her phone, the Instagram page of her old group, even replied to four unread messages from Minori wrapped in exclamation marks and LINE stickers. Boredom was hard to come along as a trainee, and excitement harder still.)
“Nothing. I mean.” Airi shook her head, then took Haruka’s hand and dragged her in the direction of the bathrooms, which meant not here.
The bathrooms were a strange, otherworldly place in the otherwise very much public dorms. Anyone who entered to do something illicit always ran the risk of being walked in on, but with that carried an unspoken rule of not snitching if you were the one doing the walking in. In a place like where they were, that was the best Haruka was going to get.
Airi knew it too. She was the one who told Haruka that in the first place, when she was still coming to know the new company and the ins and outs of the dorms. A year older and the only other person who was able to keep up with her during dance practice, she apparently decided to take Haruka under her wing and show her around. Her room, the elevator, the best places to do homework, the best places to watch the sunset, the best places to take a breather.
Once she even started going on about who was a bore to make out with and who would tell — “because even trainees have to let off steam sometimes” — before Haruka leaned in and kissed Airi herself.
(Something Airi probably shouldn’t know is that in all her years of being a trainee under her new company, she was still the only person Haruka kissed.)
Haruka often wondered if it was pity, or if maybe Airi was trying to figure Haruka out: why the star of ASRUN had suffered such a massive self-inflicted fall from grace. She never found the courage to ask, and then months had passed and there wasn’t any space between them for those kinds of doubts anymore.
***
The first time Airi snuck into the bathroom with Haruka, she slid her smuggled phone out from under her shirt to watch a live performance of her favorite idol group. Haruka watched the reverence shining in her sixteen year old eyes and thought about how ASRUN might have been able to perform on a stage like that if they continued the way they were headed.
(In other words, it never would have happened. Their fuse was burning and burning quick. Mai was a mess and everyone was looking away from it but Haruka, and the one time she averted her eyes she crashed.)
Haruka tried to mention her previous group, then, though indirectly. To test the waters.
“The bathrooms my old company moved us into weren’t like this,” she said offhandedly. Before she could get too tripped up on how she said us and Airi’s silence, she continued, “They were mostly single-occupancy, and they had those fancy hand dryers. The ones that blow air on you.”
It was an insignificant, tiny detail — certainly not enough to make Haruka regret leaving the group; there were other places for such regrets — but when she turned to look at Airi, she had a strange expression on her face. Like she didn’t know what to say for once. Momoi Airi, speechless.
Later, when they walked back to their dorm rooms, Airi mumbled, “I just don’t understand how you could give all that up.”
She looked embarrassed right after, like mentioning ASRUN was something that was supposed to be off the table. Haruka was secretly glad at least one person didn’t feel the need to walk on eggshells around her.
She didn’t know how to tell Airi that. So she let the words expand between them until Airi clicked open her door a few minutes later and said, hurriedly and still ashamed, Goodnight.
***
“Look,” Airi said, after she made it into the bathroom, checked the stalls, and locked the door of the most spacious one behind them. She pulled out from her bag a few parcels of candy and even a beer can, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Cheers.”
“Airi. You didn’t.”
“‘Course I did. I told you I’d find a way to celebrate your birthday with you, right?” Her bright countenance suddenly sputtered out, if just for a moment. Haruka knew, as her eyes darted around, that she was taking in where they were in all its dirty-floored, graffitied imperfection.
VIVIDS 4EVER, read the wall, among other things. Haruka took it all in: two stars with T.T. and T.S. written in bold marker on the centers, a phone number, pocket-knife hearts for lovers without trees. She thought it was charming. Airi grimaced.
“It’s not ideal, but… I thought it wouldn’t be right to let your birthday pass without doing anything.” Then Airi turned all smiles again, with an edge of something teasing. “Should I sing Happy Birthday for you?”
Haruka laughed. “It’s okay. Save your voice for when you need it.”
“Smart.”
With a loud ripping sound, Airi tore open a package of pop rock candy and put some in her mouth. Haruka could hear the faint sound of them from where she sat a few inches away. When Airi leaned her head back and opened her mouth, her tongue was already beginning to turn blue.
“Let me have some.” Airi pointed to her mouth and raised her eyebrows in suggestion, and Haruka groaned. “You are so gross.”
“Okay, okay.” Airi laughed and passed Haruka her pop rocks, but not before pressing a searing kiss to her mouth. It was short, and after Airi looked a bit flushed and rather stiffly said, “Happy birthday, Haruka.”
Haruka, off guard by her sudden awkwardness, muttered, “Thanks,” after a brief pause. She tried to work out what exactly that was, but Airi looked even more embarrassed now, and it was so strong that it pushed out any other emotion from her face.
A beat. Haruka sighed, felt the pop rocks fizzle against her tongue like tiny stars going out. “What’s wrong?”
She watched Airi quietly for a few moments, unsure of what more to say, before Airi sighed and came right out with it herself.
“Ugh, I didn’t wanna bring this up, but… You know I can’t keep anything from you.” Airi half-smiled. It looked rueful. Like ripping off a band-aid: “I overheard the dance instructors talking the other day. The company’s planning to debut you by the end of the year.”
The words dropped into Haruka’s stomach like something tangible. There was a current of excitement there, but also a twist of dread at the thin line of Airi’s mouth. “What? And what about you?”
(I don't know if I can do this without you, she wanted to say, but figured Airi already knew.)
“What about me?” Airi said after a moment. Anger was at the forefront of her face now, but not quite anger at Haruka. Anger at the higher ups, maybe. Or herself. “You’re. You know. You’re Haruka Kiritani. I’m just…”
Before Haruka could rush to reassure Airi that she was an incredible idol, that they would debut at each other’s sides — the stuff of midnight sleepovers and tears — Airi continued. “Anyway, it’s your birthday. I shouldn’t be saying depressing stuff like this.” She held out a bag of gummy bears, like an offering. Drop it.
Haruka accepted the gummy bears for Airi’s sake more than hers. She tried to strike all thoughts of debuting and ASRUN from her mind, focusing instead on the here and now, the sound of Airi pulling the tab on the beer can and taking a long sip.
Airi passed the can to Haruka after a few seconds and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. She sighed, then inhaled sharply, as if she were preparing herself for something. After a moment she said, “We’re getting older, you know.”
Haruka finally opened her mouth to say something. It came out half a whisper and almost contrite. “Of course. Of course I know.”
She washed down her words with a swig of beer and tried not to make a face. It was bitter all the way down. Cheap beer was always like that and tended to cling to her throat. She wondered why she was even bothering with it. We’re getting older.
“How is it?” Airi asked, as if she hadn’t had some for herself already. As if she didn’t know the answer. Something strangely hopeful was strung in that question.
“It’s nice,” Haruka said after a while, not because she meant it but because it was what Airi wanted to hear. She thought about the scrawled-on stars on the stall and the pop-candy stars suspended on her tongue and what she was willing to give for them.