Our Ordinary Lives

Chapter 13 - A Regretful Idol

Ai POV

I shouldn't have looked.

The room felt suffocating, a tangible heaviness pressing down on me as I sat alone in its dimly lit corners. The only source of illumination came from the soft glow of my computer screen, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. It had been hours, yet I remained curled up, my fingers clutched tightly around my legs, as if trying to hide myself from the darkness surrounding me. Every now and then, the screen would flicker to life, bathing me in its pale light as new messages popped up. Each notification was a reminder of the world beyond ANHS. Each new message reminded me of the world I had left behind.

The floor was littered with torn posters and markers, while the walls were covered with diagrams and photos of myself. All windows were shut, and my bed was a mess. The kitchen was full of half eaten food and opened cans. After the morning, eating had been getting harder for me, even when I tried to enjoy the food I was always reminded of flashing cameras and shouting fans.

For the first time in months, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, gazing at my reflection with a mix of fear and anxiety. The same eyes that had once critiqued every angle and expression during my preparations for performances now turned their discerning gaze upon me. Did I look different? Had my appearance changed in a way that would invite even more criticism if I did return?

A faint flicker of uncertainty danced in my eyes as I assessed myself. Did I grow too slim? Did I gain weight? The questions echoed in my mind, each one a testament to the relentless scrutiny that had become an intrinsic part of my existence. It was a world where every physical aspect was dissected and judged, where even the slightest perceived flaw could become fuel for endless discussions and criticisms. I couldn't have more of that. I already had experienced enough.

I was so naive to think that making friends with people like Airi and Kiyotaka would have changed me. I was so stupid to even think of joining the study group. I could never open up to anyone again. Doing so with Kiyotaka, even though it was ever so slight, was a mistake. Hiding behind the mask is always for the best.

My gaze shifted to my bloodshot eyes, a telltale sign of the emotional turmoil I had experienced that morning. The tears shed in solitude, the weight of hurtful comments, and the strain of grappling with self-doubt had taken their toll. I had pushed myself to the brink, both mentally and emotionally, all in an effort to meet the impossible standards that had been imposed upon me.

I can't believe that I'm in the state that I'm in right now. I said I wouldn't care about my career here. I looked online because of what Kiyotaka said, I wanted to try and understand them.

Burying my head into my knees, I let out a small, muffled sob. The action only served to further dishevel my already tangled hair, a visual representation of the chaos within. The feeble light that had been seeping through the curtains had now been swallowed by the encroaching darkness of the room. Time seemed to blur, its passing unnoticed in the midst of my emotional turmoil.

Stupid Ai. Why did you have to open that app? Why. Why. Why.

It had all started earlier that day in the morning, when I decided to go online, eager to gauge the public's reaction to my decision. The words that Kiyotaka had said to me made sense, and I thought that doing so would help me be a better idol and maybe even a person. How stupid I was. While ANHS students were strictly prohibited from engaging with the outside world, we were granted limited access to certain social media platforms. Of course the information was heavily filtered in order for the school to control the flow of information, but that didn't reall matter to me. I wanted to know what people thought about me. While I couldn't directly participate in conversations, I could at least read what people were saying about me and try to interact with them through taking their feedback and changing.