The Man Behind the Miracle

Friday was almost the same as Thursday. 
     But Miya noticed that Mukashi was keeping his distance more than usual. Where he usually got off the tour bus with her and helped guide her to where she needed to go, that day he simply told her what she needed to do and stayed out of the public's view. She did her best to keep smiling, and her passion didn't dwindle much, but she wondered if she'd done something wrong.
     The fear that he'd found out about her plan to send and receive letters stabbed at her heart. At lunch, while she was eating, she spoke up anxiously. 
     "M-Mukashi, did I... do something wrong?" She asked nervously.
     "No." He replied instantly, and she was taken aback by his speed.
     She awkwardly finished her lunch, and as the tour bus went to their next location, she thought about speaking again, but then realized what was happening.
     Mukashi had noticed her improved mood, and so he wasn't going to be as close as he had been previously. After all, he'd only been close because he'd needed to be for her own safety. Now that she was 'doing better' he didn't need to be as close.
     She wanted to know what would happen if she put herself in danger again, but the thought was stopped by her conscience. 
     It would be wrong of her to stress Mukashi like that. She chastised herself for having such a manipulative and cruel thought. It was wrong of her to be so selfish. 
     For the rest of the day, her thoughts spiraled. Every time she started trying to think about something else, she would remember how she'd wanted to manipulate her manager, and her thoughts would darken. 
     At the end of the day, as she walked towards her bedroom and Mukashi trailed behind her, her negative thoughts grew louder and louder. 
     Then she heard the distant rattle of the janitor's cart.
     Her eyes widened and the thoughts disappeared. She glanced over her shoulder towards Mukashi. She realized that if he was in her bedroom with her, he would see her write a letter and place it under her pillow. She began trying to think of an excuse, but as she stepped into her bedroom, Mukashi stayed outside of it.
     "M-Mukashi?" She asked hesitantly, noticing his stopped position at the threshold.
     He looked just as composed as he always did.
     "Your mental state has improved to the point that it seems you will be able to sleep without my presence." He sounded calm.
     Miya felt two things at once: she was relieved that Mukashi wouldn't see her writing her letters, and she was disappointed that he wouldn't be in her room. 
     She looked at Mukashi, and she knew that it was unfair of her to impose feelings on him, but she still wanted him to care. 
     Even if it meant that she wouldn't be able to write any letters, a small part of her was clinging on to a distant dream that hoped that he would, maybe, choose to stay.
     "Mukashi..." She looked up at him, and her bangs parted, revealing her amber eyes. "Would you... please come in anyway?"
     Mukashi inhaled slowly. He knew that he should say 'no' or an equivalent of it, but he thought about how she would react if he outright refused her offer. He would simply press until she gave up on the proposition of her own choice.
     "Why would you want me to?" He asked calmly.
     Miya was surprised that he'd asked her that.
     She shut her eyes and kept her position of looking up towards him. Mukashi was confused by this, but then Miya started speaking softly.
     "I just... like having you around." She admitted quietly.
     Miya heard Mukashi exhale sharply, and she opened her eyes. She realized with a shock that Mukashi's expression had changed.
     His eyes were wide. 
     Him and Nishiyama had been talking after school as they walked back home. The conversation's details hadn't been important. 
     But then Nishiyama had said something Mukashi had never heard before.
     "Thanks for talking with me Sun-Kun."
     He'd been thinking a lot that day about their conversations.
     "Why do you talk with me, Nishiyama-San?
     She'd laughed a little bit.
     "I like having you around!"
     Mukashi was frozen. 
     Miya began to worry; she realized that she'd been too casual with her manager; the unfairness of what she'd said dawned on her. She'd been too impulsive. She should have just let him leave and gone to write her letter.
     "W-wait, Mukashi, I apologize for saying that." She bowed deeply. "It was wrong of me to say that. I'll just... I-I'll go to my bedroom now." 
     Mukashi snapped back to reality just in time to see Miya opening the door to her bedroom. 
     She enjoyed having him around.
     He wanted to be around her.
     All he had to do was say something to stop her.
     Miya waited at the door, hoping that he'd say something to stop her.
     His eyes softened, and for a moment, it was like there was a young, eight-year old boy looking up at Miya, with gray eyes wide open in eager contemplation and wonder, as if he couldn't understand what was happening.
     The boy grew up.
     "Good night, Miya." Mukashi said coldly.
     He walked away.
     She watched him go. She hoped that he wouldn't leave. She silently cried that he'd stay. She wished that he would care. 
     He didn't. 
     All he felt was cold.
     Miya stayed in the open doorway until Mukashi was long out of sight. Saltwater fell on the floor. She ran into her room and shut the door behind her, and she grabbed her signature blue pen from her bedside table, then went to the bathroom and tore open a box of tissue paper that was in there. She unfolded the box until the plain cardboard side was completely exposed to her, then she took her pen and began writing on the cardboard furiously. 
     Her handwriting was messy and cramped. 
     Saltwater hit her pillow. Makeup mixed with the concoction that was hiding her face and marred her appearance. Her breathing was stilted and jagged, but she wasn't sobbing. Miya felt something she hadn't felt in a very, very long time.
     She felt angry.
     She'd been completely and utterly foolish to think that he'd care; she already knew that, and yet she'd still done exactly what she knew wouldn't work, and when it ended exactly how she knew it would, she was stupid enough to cry about it. She let her anger pour out through her pen and onto the cardboard. She wrote until there wasn't any space left for her words. She flipped the cardboard over, then, on the back, she wrote the address of the Southwell siblings. Once that was done, she threw her pen back into the bedside table, then went towards her bathroom. She washed the mess off of her face and showered as quickly as she could, then forced her way into bed, eager to end the day.
     She couldn't stop crying.
     He was just her manager. She'd known that from the start. From the day they'd first met each other, he'd always been her manager. 
     And he was nothing more to her.
    He was nothing more.
    He was nothing.
    Mukashi wandered through the halls of Zygeist Media pointlessly.
    He was Miya's manager. 
    Tomorrow, she would record another music video. The day after that, there would be a fan meet-up. After that, there would be a solid week of practice and rehearsal for another music video. Once that was done, she would do a media promotion for a makeup brand. She was the star; the idol; the miracle.
     He was just her manager. 
     The spotlight wasn't for him. Her affection wasn't for him. No one's was. He was just there because no one else was. What he did wasn't special. He was Mukashi Il-Sun; lesser brother of the Il-Sun family; lesser manager of Zygeist Media. 
    Unworthy of anyone's time.
    He couldn't be selfish.
    He was just her manager.
    Mukashi stood in front of the elevator. He stepped onto it because he didn't know what else to do. His job was all he had. 
     Because no one cared about the man behind the miracle.
     He breathed deeply as a feeling of cold swallowed him up, and as it did, he felt his heart slow. His emotions slowly lessened. His thoughts stopped dead in their tracks.
     He wouldn't pity himself; that would be inefficient. Instead, he would keep doing what he was supposed to do. He would take each day one at a time. He would continue to manage Miya from a distance, and when the man who'd taken the photographs was found, he would return to a more hands-on approach of management. 
     He would be efficient, professional, punctual, humble, and practical. There was no point in trying to be anything that wasn't necessary. 
     Mukashi glanced at his schedule.
     He needed to be ready for tomorrow.