The week began with exhaustion.
Not the physical kind that settled in your muscles, but the quieter kind — the slow-drip ache that made everything heavier. Elliot felt it in his arms when he reached for his school bag. In his legs as he dragged them toward Sakuramine High. In the space behind his eyes, where sleep should've lived but didn't.
He hadn't gotten a full night's rest in days.
He blamed Ami.
More specifically: he blamed her inability to distinguish between hard work and self-destruction.
⸻
Monday night had been choreography.
Tuesday was vocals.
Wednesday was lighting.
Thursday — somehow — was all three, and then an argument with the venue manager when they tried to bump Ami down to an earlier slot.
Elliot had stood there, watching her argue like her life depended on it, cheeks flushed, eyes sharp, voice unwavering.
And maybe it did.
Maybe that was the terrifying part.
⸻
By Friday, school felt like an afterthought.
He sat at his desk, not really hearing the lecture, chin in his hand, Mizuki glancing over at him every few minutes like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.
She passed him a note. In tiny pink ink:
"You okay?"
He stared at it. Folded it once. Didn't answer.
She didn't pass another one.
⸻
That night, rehearsal ran late.
The gym was dimly lit, just the old fluorescents humming from above. Ami paced across the floor, going through the same routine for the fourth time — footwork sharp, breath shallow, face blank.
Elliot sat against the wall, arms crossed, watching her.
She missed a step. Then another.
Her ankle wobbled.
She cursed — loudly — and kicked over her speaker.
"Enough," Elliot said, standing.
"I'm fine," she snapped.
"You're not."
"I said I'm fine!"
She turned to him, eyes burning, sweat sticking her bangs to her forehead.
"You don't get it," she said, breath hitching. "If I mess up this performance, I'm done. They'll cut me off. Nana's waiting for me to fail. The organizer wants numbers. I'm not cute enough. Not marketable enough. I need this."
He didn't respond right away.
Then: "Not if you kill yourself doing it."
Her voice broke.
"I don't care."
That stopped him.
Ami turned away, hands on her knees, trying to hide the shake in her shoulders.
"Everyone leaves, Elliot. They always do. I make one mistake and they vanish. You think I'm scared of the crowd? I'm scared of being forgettable."
He walked over.
Sat down beside her.
"You're exhausting," he muttered.
She let out a laugh that almost sounded like a sob. "Takes one to know one."
⸻
Later that night, he helped pack up the props while Ami re-braided her hair in silence.
They didn't speak again until they left the gym.
At the gate, under the flickering streetlight, she said: "You're not just my manager anymore."
He frowned. "What does that mean?"
She looked at him — really looked at him — for a long time.
Then shook her head. "Nothing. Forget I said it."
She walked off.
He didn't follow.
⸻
Saturday morning, Elliot was running on four hours of sleep and three cups of vending machine coffee.
Mizuki stopped him outside class.
"Elliot," she said gently, "Can I ask you something?"
He looked at her. Tired. Distant.
"You've been… somewhere else lately. You don't reply. You're not eating lunch. Did I do something?"
"No," he said quickly. "It's not you."
"Then what is it?"
He hesitated.
Then snapped — not loud, not cruel, but tired.
"You don't get it. You're not part of this."
Her expression faltered.
"Oh," she said. Just that.
She stepped back.
And this time, when she left, he was the one who watched her go.
⸻
The school rooftop, after lunch, was empty except for Reika.
She sat on the ledge with a lollipop between her teeth, skirt wrinkled, jacket slung behind her like a cape. She didn't turn when Elliot arrived. Just flicked ash from an invisible cigarette.
"You look like death," she said casually.
"Feel like it."
She finally looked at him. "You skipping sleep for Yuzuki again?"
He didn't answer.
"That girl's chewing through you," Reika said. "You know that, right?"
"She's not—"
"She is. Maybe not on purpose. Maybe not even knowingly. But you're holding her world together and letting your own fall apart."
He sat down beside her, silent.
Reika leaned back, stretching her arms over her head.
"I don't do drama," she added. "But if you break? I'm not going to help clean it up. Just so we're clear."
He nodded. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
She paused. Then said, "But if she bails on you, I'll beat her up."
Elliot cracked a small, bitter smile.
"I'm serious," Reika added. "I've got brass knuckles."
⸻
That night, he got a message.
📲 Ami: "Gig's tomorrow. 7pm. Don't be late."
📲 Ami: "They're expecting a real show. No mistakes. This is it."
📲 Ami: "And… thanks. For not leaving."
Elliot stared at the messages.
Then, finally, replied:
"I'll be there."