The days began to blur together—training, practice, meals, sleep. Haru was always sore, always tired, but something in his chest stayed lit, a little fire that wouldn't go out. Even when he flubbed a step or cracked a note, he reminded himself: he was here. He'd made it.
One evening, after another long day of dance drills, Haru wandered back to the practice building. The rest of his group had gone ahead to dinner, but he'd forgotten his water bottle. The halls were dim, most of the lights already turned off. His shoes squeaked faintly on the polished floors.
The vocal room was unlocked, so he pushed the door open, flicked on a lamp, and crossed the space to grab his bottle—when something caught his eye.
A folder, carelessly left on the piano.
It wasn't unusual for staff to leave music sheets behind, but this one had a sticker on it, pale and peeling. A stylized shooting star. Something about it tugged at Haru's memory.
He knew that symbol.
It had been the emblem of Starlight Dreams, printed on their debut merchandise.
He opened the folder before he could think twice.
Inside were handwritten vocal notes, harmonies marked out in clean, looping script. A name was scrawled in the corner of the page: Takeshita Aoki.
Haru's breath caught.
He'd known Aoki was part Starlight Dreams. That wasn't a secret—at least not to fans who followed the industry years ago. But this was tangible. Personal evidence to show that perhaps Aoki hadn't just moved on. That part of him was still tethered to that time.
Haru's fingers hovered over the page, then gently traced one of the harmony lines. It wasn't just notes. There were side scribbles—small reminders like "breathe here". Little human details. The kind of things you write when you're not just performing, but feeling the music.
He closed the folder quietly and placed it back on the piano.
"Having fun?"
The voice came from the doorway. Haru froze.
Aoki stood there, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. His tone wasn't harsh—but it wasn't soft, either.
"I—I forgot my bottle," Haru said, lifting it like proof. "I wasn't trying to pry."
Aoki stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He glanced at the piano, then at Haru. "You opened it."
"I saw the sticker. I recognised it," Haru admitted. "I know you were in Starlight Dreams. I was a fan back then, I just… I didn't expect to see the logo again."
Aoki didn't speak for a long moment. Then he walked over and sat at the piano bench, fingers lightly resting on the closed folder.
"Most of the trainees here don't remember Starlight Dreams." he said. "We weren't around for long."
"But you were popular," Haru said. "You had fans. A lot of them."
Aoki gave a short, dry laugh. "Fans don't protect you when your world collapses. They just move on to the next bright thing."
The words landed heavier than Haru expected.
Aoki looked down at his hands. "Being an idol is like burning. You shine, you glow—but you don't get to choose how long the flame lasts. Or what it costs."
There was something in his voice—something raw.
"What did it cost you?" Haru asked quietly.
Aoki turned his head, met Haru's eyes. For once, he didn't look guarded. Just tired.
"My voice," he said. "My health. People I trusted." He tapped the folder.
Haru was silent while Aoki gave him a look—half thinking, half amused changing the subject "You will mess up at some point. That's not a maybe."
Haru laughed, the tension easing. "Probably more than once."
"But," Aoki added, "you're stubborn. And honest. I hope you can stay that way."
A small silence settled between them.
Then, without really thinking about it, Haru asked, "Did you ever want to come back?"
Aoki's gaze drifted to the folder. His voice was almost a whisper.
"Every day."
***
Haru went to Ryu and Ren's dorm after, Ren sitting cross-legged on the sofa, surrounded by sheets of scribbled choreography notes and empty snack wrappers. His ears twitched when he saw Haru walk in.
"Where'd you disappear to? I thought you had been kidnapped "
"Sorry," Haru said, slipping off his shoes. "I stayed back to practice. Then I ran into Aoki."
Ren grinned. "Ooh. Another secret meeting with the Ice Prince?"
"It wasn't like that," Haru said quickly, ears reddening. "We just… talked."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Talked?"
"About… Starlight Dreams. His past. Why he left." Haru sank into the cusions. "It was different this time. He was actually open. Kind of."
Ren's smile faded a little. "So the rumors were true?"
"Some of them, maybe. But it's more complicated," Haru said. "He didn't just quit. He was pushed out. Burned out. And he's still carrying it."
Ren nodded slowly. "This industry really does chew people up."
"I think he wants to protect us," Haru added. "In his own way."
There was a pause.
"You like him, don't you?" Ren asked, voice gentle.
Haru looked down at his hands. "I don't know. Maybe. It's not like… crush stuff. It's more like… I want to understand him. I want him to trust me."
Ren grinned. "That's worse."
Haru groaned and buried his face in a cusion. "Don't tease me. I'm too tired."
Ren laughed softly and tossed a balled-up snack wrapper toward Haru. "Sleep, you dramatic fluffball."
"Not dramatic," Haru said with a yawn. "Just emotionally enriched."
Ren raised a brow. "Go emotionally enrich your sleep schedule. We've got practice at sunrise."
Haru chuckled and stood up, stretching. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going."