Niji {Mahiro×Reader}

Chapter 12- Trail

The circus show was the next day. I pulled on a light jacket and headed out after a bag of chips as brunch, the backpack over my shoulders containing my rehearsal items and personal belongings. The tent which the show would be held in was set up, though the stage had not been set and the seats were not pushed in yet.

I trudged along the muddy path, to where the trapeze artists tents were. I was first to reach, so I nabbed a tent spot that would've been more convenient for me, deliberately throwing my bag onto the unstable floor made of wood planks. The typical was there- make up table, mirror, some food, a closet. There would be no need for a changing room, the walls of the tentage were rather opaque already.

I changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants, turning on the fan, then took out my phone. I flicked through several message, scrolled through social media, then proceeded on to stage checks.

Along the way, the manager handed me a bottle of water, forcing me to drink up before I was let into the performance tent. He demanded I "pull myself back together", before moving on to the other cast members. Several others had asked if I was alright, and I dismissed their questions with an "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. "

Rehearsal was right before dinner, which passed quickly. I was given several compliments on my skills, but simultaneously given a talk on my lack of emotion. As if the audience would care.

I grabbed whatever was left for dinner, taking a few spoons of whatever was on my plate before turning in for the night. As I drifted off to sleep. I remember hearing a notification go off, and that was the last thing I noticed before drifting off to sleep.

[Mahiro's POV]

Another day. Eyes blink open to the quiet of the hotel room, just the air conditioner's soft buzzing. I slowly rose from my bed, then dragged myself to the bathroom to wash up. At around 7am, I dragged my luggage out to the lobby, checking out with the rest band and the crew. We were to be travelling all the way to Hokkaido for the next live, which was rather far away.

The plane ride was pretty quiet, to say the least. The draft for the song to our new single "Tamaki no hashina kigagotoshi" was out, so I was busied myself to memorize the lyrics and tune. Once that was down, I looked through the set lists and rewatched the furi videos for the songs. I kept myself as occupied as I could for the entire flight. I had to, to keep a certain someone off my mind.

Whether it was focusing on cloud formations outside the window, to rewatching the previous BPR channel videos on the personal computer. Anything. Anything at all.

The flight seemed to last an eternity. We got off the flight in time for dinner at the next hotel. After that and exploring the city for a short while, everyone proceeded back to the hotel. Though the rest of the Kiryu members chose to stay up to visit the arcade, I decided to head back to the hotel room instead.

The silence and isolation in the elevator caused Mitsuki's words from the previous night to echo in my head.

[Y/N] wasn't eating well, wasn't hydrating herself, wasn't up to the weather.

And that worried me. Very much so. I thought she would've just felt betrayed, probably, then gotten over it- had I really done so much?

The guilt began eating me up inside, yet I reasoned with myself that it was ultimately the best decision for both of us. It was a raging war inside me, with both sides refusing to give in.

I staggered out the elevator- thank goodness no one was around- and somehow found my way to the room. I swung the door open, then slammed it shut, before collapsing onto the carpet, shaking. I took a few deep breaths to stabilize my accelerating heart rate and to calm myself down.

Pulling myself back onto my feet, I managed to carry myself to the bed, sitting down, then reached out a still-shivering hand to my phone, unsteadily typing out a message to check if she was alright.

Hey

Mahiro here.

I hope you're doing fine.

Take care.

I'm sorry.

My finger had subconsciously slid over to send the message, then numbly turned off the phone, setting it aside, on the pillow.

I was doubtful. How would she react? How would I be able to respond? Would she reply?

Perhaps thinking too much can lead to exhaustion as well. I carried those thoughts with me to the shower, which didn't make me anymore refreshed as it should have done, bit rather made me slightly more tired. These thoughts seemed to float around me, refusing to release me from their shackles, as I began to fall asleep.

One day. One day I would have to face the consequences of my actions.