October 8, 2019
The relentless rhythm of "Bad Habit" pulsed in my veins, a constant reminder of the hours slipping away and my mounting dissatisfaction. The drums, the bassline – they'd seemed so full of promise when I started. Now, they sounded flat, lifeless.
The clock on my monitor blinked – 9 AM. Time had warped and stretched, leaving me bleary-eyed and frustrated. Worse, a familiar sense of self-doubt started to creep in.
I slumped back in my chair, staring at the waveform on the screen. Was this really the best I could do? Just a bland rehash of an old hit? It felt like a betrayal, both of the song and the promise I'd made to myself.
"Damn it!" I slammed my hands down on the keyboard, the discordant jangle shattering the quiet. I needed space, distance – anything to break this cycle of frustration.
Glancing around, I caught my reflection in the monitor. I barely recognized myself. Eyes bloodshot, hair disheveled – it wasn't just my appearance, but how I felt: raw and exposed. The carefully constructed mask I always wore was starting to crack. I couldn't let that happen.
I'd escaped one cage; I wasn't about to build another here. This apartment, this equipment, they were supposed to be about freedom, not another prison of a dream deferred.
A shower first, then. The hot water beating down on my aching muscles might jolt me out of this funk. A change of clothes, a fresh start. Then maybe a jog, some fresh air, a proper breakfast. Give my brain a break, let the music simmer on the back burner of my mind. There was time, I'd only been in this new world for five days now. I wasn't giving up, just... shifting tactics.
The cool morning air bit at my cheeks as I settled into a steady running rhythm. With each stride, the tension of the night before began to loosen. Up ahead, the park offered a brief stretch of green in the urban landscape, a temporary escape from the confines of my apartment.
The rhythm of "Bad Habit" still pulsed in my head, but the insistent beat now felt less like a taunt and more like a challenge. I'd been too close, too focused. A break had been the right call.
Lost in thought, legs pumping in time with the mental music, I nearly collided with another jogger rounding the corner. A surprised yelp escaped me as I swerved, narrowly avoiding a messy fall.
"Woah, sorry about that!" I called out, regaining my balance. And automatically putting on my slight smile. It was only then that I truly registered who my near-victim was.
My mysterious neighbor – The idol. Dressed down in running tights and a simple tee, hair hastily pulled into a messy braid with a hat on. Yet, she still radiated a kind of ethereal beauty.
For a moment, she just stared, clearly startled. Then a flicker of recognition crossed her face, followed by a quick, professional smile. "Oh, it's you! Well, that was a close one," she chuckled, her voice slightly breathless.
"Yeah, sorry about that." I chuckled, "I wasn't exactly paying attention."
"No worries," she replied, her smile widening slightly. "It happens." We stood there in the dappled sunlight, an unexpected moment of connection outside the confines of our apartment building.
"So," she tilted her head, her sunglasses partially hiding her eyes, "clearing your head?"
A laugh escaped me, a genuine one. "You could say that," I admitted. "Turns out all-nighters aren't always as productive as I thought."
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and for just an instant, the practiced idol persona seemed to slip. "Tell me about it," she sighed. Something about her tone, that shared flash of vulnerability, made it surprisingly easy to fall into step with her as we continued the jog.
"Speaking of clearing heads," Ai began, a sly hint in her voice, "I guess I owe you a little more of an explanation about our weariness. It's hard to be... mysterious, when I'm always on stage causing a ruckus."
My mind raced. She'd slipped, but how much? Play oblivious, or test the waters? "Yeah you're in B-Komachi, right?"
Ai's mouth dropped open slightly. "You knew!?" She exclaimed, "Are you just... not a fan of idols?" There was both surprise and a flicker of something else in her eyes – defensiveness, maybe even disappointment?
"I... haven't been fully invested," I admitted. "Never really had a reason to."
A strange silence fell between us for several strides. Then Ai let out a huff of laughter, and a smirk crossed her face. "Well then," she said, the familiar idol sparkle now back in full force, "I might just need to make you my fan."
"You really want your next-door neighbor to become your fan?" I teased. This was the kind of push-and-pull I understood, the game I knew how to play.
"Oh?" Ai tilted her head, her sunglasses a gleaming barrier against reading her true thoughts. "So you wouldn't want me to be your fan, then?"
"What do you mean?"
Ai's smirk widened. "Well, let's just say your apartment wasn't exactly quiet yesterday," she said, her voice lowered playfully. "All that equipment, that music... you have to be more than just a casual listener, right?"
My turn to feel caught off guard. How much had she heard? Did she suspect my past? A thousand scenarios ran through my head, followed by a wave of irritation. Damn it, so much for keeping an initial low profile.
"You know," I said, trying to sound casual, "all that noise could be annoying to a neighbor. How about I make it up to you? There's that little cafe down the block. Coffee's on me."
Ai's eyebrows lifted in surprise, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "Oh? Trying to bribe me into silence already?"
"More like bribing you into a proper breakfast," I countered with a grin. "All that running must have made you hungry, right?"
"Hmm..." She pretended to consider it. "Well, I suppose the only way for me to determine the extent of the soundproofing I'll need is to sample their food. For investigation purposes, of course."
The tension broke, replaced by shared laughter. "Lead the way, detective," I gestured towards the sidewalk. "Let's see if this cafe can survive your investigation."
The cafe came into view, a cozy corner place with mismatched chairs and tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was a welcome change from the faint scent of my own stale studio.
The interior was just as inviting – warm wood, faded floral wallpaper, and the low hum of friendly chatter. We found a small table tucked by the window, a splash of sunlight illuminating the chipped blue plates.
The waitress, a cheerful middle-aged woman with a flower-patterned apron, greeted us with a warm smile. "What can I get for you two this morning?"
Ai didn't even glance at the menu. "I'll have the pancakes, please. With extra syrup." She flashed a grin at me. "Got to fuel up after that run, right?"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll have the same, thanks." As the waitress bustled away, I leaned back in my chair, studying Ai. Without her sunglasses, her eyes were strikingly vibrant, a shade of purple that seemed to shift in the light.
"So," she propped her chin on her hand, "about that music..."
I felt my shoulders tense, but forced a casual shrug. "Just a hobby, really. Something to pass the time."
Ai's eyebrows lifted. "A hobby that requires that much equipment? Come on, Akira. I may be an idol, but I'm not clueless."
Her use of my name caught me off guard. It felt strangely intimate, coming from her. "It's... a passion project, I guess you could say. Something I've been working on for a while."
"A passion project," Ai repeated, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Now that sounds intriguing. Care to share more?"
I hesitated, the instinct to guard my secrets warring with the unexpected ease of talking to her. "It's a song," I said finally. "One that I've been trying to get just right. But it's been giving me some trouble."
Ai nodded, a look of understanding crossing her face. "I know that feeling all too well. Sometimes, the more you want something to be perfect, the harder it becomes."
Her words struck a chord, echoing my own frustrations. "Exactly," I said, leaning forward. "It's like the song is there, in my head, but every time I try to capture it, something's just... off."
The waitress returned with our pancakes, the stack of fluffy discs drowning in a pool of golden syrup. Ai's eyes widened with delight, and for a moment, the serious conversation was forgotten as we both dug in.
Between bites, Ai gestured with her fork. "You know, when I'm stuck on a particularly tricky bit of choreography, sometimes the best thing to do is to step away. Give myself space to breathe, to let my body and mind reset."
I paused, a piece of syrup-soaked pancake halfway to my mouth. "That's actually why I went for a run this morning. To clear my head."
Ai grinned. "And look where that got you. Breakfast with an idol. Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something."
I laughed, shaking my head. "What, that I should nearly run over idols more often?"
She rolled her eyes, but her smile was playful. "No, silly. Sometimes, the best breakthroughs come when you least expect them. When you open yourself up to new experiences, new perspectives."
I considered her words, absently drawing patterns in the syrup with my fork. "You might be onto something there," I admitted. "I've been so focused on getting this song perfect, I've barely left my apartment. Maybe what I need is a change of scenery, some fresh inspiration."
Ai's eyes lit up. "Well, if it's inspiration you're looking for, I might just have an idea." She leaned in conspiratorially. "How would you like front row tickets to see a B-Komachi concert?"
"Is this just a ploy to make me your fan?"
Ai shrugged, but there was a hint of mischief in her smile. "Consider it repayment for the pancakes."
I sat back. A chance to see Ai in her element, to witness the workings of the idol world... it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.
"Alright, you've got a deal," I said, extending my hand across the table. "Pancakes for a front row seat."
Ai's hand was warm as she shook mine, her grip firm. "Careful," she teased, "you might just end up becoming a fan after all."
I grinned, feeling a spark of excitement that had nothing to do with the coffee. "We'll see about that, detective. We'll see."
As we finished our breakfast, the conversation flowed easily, jumping from music to our favorite spots in the city to the quirks of apartment living. It was strange, how comfortable it felt, sitting here with Ai. Like I'd known her for far longer than a few chance encounters. Like we were two sides of the same coin.
When the bill came, I insisted on paying, waving off Ai's protests. "Hey, a deal's a deal," I said, handing the waitress my card.
Ai shook her head, but her smile was genuine. "Alright, but next time, breakfast is on me."
The promise of a next time hung in the air between us as we stepped out of the cafe, the morning sun now high in the sky. Ai glanced at her watch, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "I should probably head back," she said. "Got a busy day ahead."
I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Yeah, me too. Got a song to wrestle into submission."
Ai laughed, the sound bright and carefree. "Well, don't forget our deal. I'll text you the details for when."
"I won't," I promised. "And Ai... thanks. For the talk, and for the offer. It means a lot."
She smiled, a softer, more genuine curve of her lips. "Anytime, Akira. That's what neighbors are for, right?"
With a final wave, she turned and jogged away, her figure quickly disappearing around the corner. I stood there for a moment, marveling at the unexpected turn my day had taken.
As I made my way back to my apartment, my mind was buzzing with new ideas, fresh perspectives. The frustration of the night before seemed distant now, replaced by a renewed sense of possibility.
Maybe Ai was right. Maybe the key to breaking through my creative block wasn't more hours hunched over my keyboard, but opening myself up to new experiences. And what could be more eye-opening than a glimpse into the world of idols?
I grinned to myself as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. The day was still young, and suddenly, it felt full of promise. I had a song to make, and a performance to look forward to.
And it all started with a chance collision on a morning jog.