If Music Is My Passion, You're My Muse [Anhane]

Her: From Past To Present

‘The Vivids; a true exposition, the label of two girls that joined together to beat a legend.’

It was cheesy when said the first few times, maybe even humorous depending on the person. Then again, An has never really considered herself serious when it came to those header notes anyways. Underlined in thick sharpie, emphasized with two hearts on both ends. Electric Blue and Baby Pink, specifically.

Her vision averts, she chews at her lip.

Today was another day of practice, which they’ve since stressed a lot less since achieving one of their first long-term goals. The next step was to finish a disaster of short-term goals they wrote together on two pieces of college-graded paper. To Complete and To Achieve are on separate quotations of the page, the sheet is written on from front to back.

Vivid BAD SQUAD have only found themselves at the first bar of the incredibly long ladder, and they were willing to keep climbing up until they started traveling throughout the air. Like the stars of the sky, like they’ve become their very own constellation. That’s what they’re reaching for, with both projectile aim and with a loose hand that tries to pull out of orbit everyday.

An hears light footsteps approaching her, yet she doesn’t acknowledge it until it's right in front of her. 

Previously white shoes, now stained with dirt at the soles and adorned with charms (made for crocs, An jokes that she’s an innovator for pitching the idea). It’s more clear who exactly it is once she kneels down, knee-socks that scrunch below the knees, uneven pigtails only hidden by a baseball hat over her head. Not to mention that unforgettable face, the pretty smile, everything.

“Hey, An-chan.” Kohane pulls herself up to the first stair, the one where An is sitting at, the one that leads to one of the stages. Below their feet, two water bottles are placed down, already in the phase of condensation. “You did good today.” She tells her, a voice soothing like the cold breeze that makes contact on over-adrenalized skin.

An shuffles briefly, putting the paper down on her lap. “Tomorrow, it’ll be better.” She says.

Everything is considered a work in progress when it comes to her goals. Even when perfected, she hesitates when it comes to placing that green checkmark, because ‘anything could be improved on’. Kohane knows this about her, she’s been there during the hesitation, she was witness to the uproar of the stage and the behind the scenes of the music.

Kohane tries to find the words to tell her, although it always ends up identical. Like she’s rewording the same question on a search engine. The answers are still affiliated.

“But you did good today.” She repeats, patting An’s back in counts of two and three, whether intentional or not.

An’s exhale is done shakily, like it does in every other practice. She’s still not used to it, not after all these years. Kohane offers her a bottle, she takes it and twists the cap too quickly, it chimes at each landing until it spins flat. “Thank you,” She speaks faintly. “You did great as well.”

Her heart skipped in unsynchronized beats, each one pounding against her chest. It falls into neutrality slowly, but eventually does.

Kohane pants out of breath too, because they’re both on the same train consistently, one that’s covered in advertisement posters and familiar melodies that fall on unforgotten ears. She glances down at the paper, then looks back up to Kohane.

An eventually settles on a clause: ‘We both did good today, but let’s do better tomorrow, together.’ 

Taking Kohane’s hand, she squeezes it with her very own.