Photo of an Ordinary Evening

“I… guess I have to wait a bit.” I sighed, defeated by nature.

I turned to Rin staring at me,

"If you don’t mind that is.”

“Of course not! I’m the reason you’re not at home in the first place.”

“Well I wouldn’t be at home exactly…”

I would be drinking with dumb and dumber.

“Oh?” She raised her brows, “Did you have plans you had to cancel because of this?”

Now I feel guilty for making her believe that! Look at that face!

“Nah, it’s nothing. It was just a stroll after class.”

“You had… class?” Rin leaned forward, eyes wide.

Now she seemed intrigued. Like really intrigued…

“Yeah, at college. Today was a snoozefest, though…”

“Wow…” She echoed, almost as if I had told her a confidential national secret.

“Really it’s nothing.”

Rin smiled, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Would you like something to drink while you wait? Maybe you can tell me more about… college?”

Her cheeks tinted a little.

“You really wanna hear?” I raised a brow.

She was already in the kitchen making coffee.

“I guess she does…” I murmured.

Rin handed me a mug of coffee and sat across from me, legs tucked politely under the table. The rain kept its rhythm against the window.

“So,” she started, hands wrapped around her cup, “what’s… college like?”

I blinked. “You make it sound like a fantasy novel.”

“It might as well be,” she said with a tiny laugh. “I’ve never even seen one in person.”

I leaned back. “Well, it’s mostly… boring.”

“Boring?”

“Yeah. You wake up too early, go to a lecture you barely understand, spend half the class pretending to take notes while actually drawing, and then eat food so bad it makes you question your will to live.”

Rin giggled behind her hand. “That bad?”

“Last week they served something called ‘Mystery Curry’. It was both the mystery and the crime.”

Her laughter was soft but genuine, like she couldn’t believe people actually lived like that.

“So… nobody tells you where to go or what to do?”

“Not unless you mess up bad enough to get noticed.”

“That sounds… free.”

“It’s chaos,” I corrected. “But yeah, kind of nice chaos.”

She smiled faintly, eyes unfocused for a moment. “You have friends there, right?”

“Yeah. Two of them. One’s loud enough to start an earthquake, the other’s the designated adult.”

“I’d like to meet them someday,” she said quietly.

“You sure? They’d probably ask for an autograph before you could utter a word.”

She laughed again — but this time, it trailed off softer. Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the rain blurred the city lights into watercolor streaks.

“I always wondered what it was like…” she murmured. “To have days like that. Just… being somewhere. Doing nothing special.”

I hesitated, unsure if I was supposed to say something comforting.

“You’re not missing much,” I said finally. “Most people there are trying to escape real life, not live it.”

“Still,” she said, smiling faintly, “it sounds nice. Boring sounds… nice sometimes.”

Those words made me pause for a second. For a moment there she looked… awfully lonely.

Seeing idols on TV, smiling and performing on stage… you can’t really imagine they’d make a face like that. How much time it takes for rehearsals, interviews, training…

It makes sense it’d get lonely.

I took a quiet sip of my coffee, thinking for a second.

“…Wanna see something from class?”

Her head tilted slightly. “From your… photography course?”

“Yeah.” I unzipped my bag and pulled out my notebook — half lecture notes, half doodles. Smudged pencil, messy arrows, a few amateur drawings of lighting rigs, and one unfortunate stick figure I think was supposed to be my professor.

Rin’s eyes widened a little, like I’d just produced a spellbook. “You really take all these notes by hand?”

“Mostly. Helps me focus.”

She leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Can you… teach me something from it?”

I blinked. “You… want me to teach you?”

She nodded, hands clasped neatly in her lap, that same quiet excitement I’d seen when kids watched fireworks for the first time.

Tutoring Rin Tsukishiro… never thought that’d be possible. Yet here we are.

I scratched the back of my head. “Alright, sure. But don’t expect a diploma afterward.”

Flipping through the pages, I found one labeled ‘Lighting Theory 101’.

“Okay, this one’s easy. It’s about how light hits the subject. Basically, you want balance… not too harsh, not too dim.”

Rin listened, chin resting lightly on her hand. “So like… performing on stage?”

“Exactly,” I said, a small grin tugging at my lips. “Except instead of blinding fans with spotlights, I’m trying not to make you look like a ghost.”

She laughed softly, and I swore it made the rain sound lighter somehow.

“So…” she pointed at one of my doodles, “this part… what’s this big circle supposed to be?”

“That?” I looked down and sighed. “That’s… technically a lighting diagram. But fine, yes, it looks like a… dumpling.”

Must have been hungry during that class.

Rin giggled, eyes bright. “It’s a cute dumpling.”

I rolled my eyes. “And this line here is where I’d place the reflector, to bounce light naturally. It makes people look softer, warmer.”

Her expression softened. “Softer… warmer…” she repeated quietly.

For a moment, her gaze drifted back to the window again, as if she were watching some distant version of herself out there, under stage lights she couldn’t escape.

Then she turned back to me with that small, gentle smile. “You really love this, don’t you?”

“Photography?” I asked. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

She nodded, her tone a whisper. “I can tell.”

I looked down at the page again, suddenly self-conscious about how messy it was. Coffee stains, crooked handwriting, and all.

“You sure you’re learning anything?”

Rin straightened a little, eyes determined. “Of course! I just learned what a dumpling reflector is!”

I laughed quietly. “You know what? I think you need more credits to graduate.”

Her cheeks puffed slightly, pretending to pout. “But I’m a good student!”

“Sure, sure,” I smirked, closing the notebook. “Best one I’ve had all semester.”

Her laughter returned, small but real. Then, as it faded, she spoke again — softer this time.

“I wish I could take a class like that… even just once.”

“Hey,” I said, shrugging, “if I ever teach one, you’ll get a front-row seat.”

She smiled at that — not the bright, dazzling one she wore for cameras, but something quiet. Grateful.

And for a second, it almost felt like the storm outside didn’t matter at all.

Then… it came… a soft rumble.

I clutched my stomach by instinct but… it wasn’t mine that made that noise.

“…”

You could practically see the steam flying off Rin’s ears like a kettle about to launch into the stratosphere.

Somehow that was really endearing to see. The perfect idol defeated by a simple stomach complaint.

“Hungry?”

She nodded, wordless.

“What do you normally eat anyway?”

She cleared her throat, managing to regain some semblance of her composure.

“I get my meals delivered 3 times a day but…”

She looked out the window, to the storm still brewing.

“Yeah unless they’re delivering fresh-caught Tokyo fish on a boat… I doubt they’re coming.”

I could see she looked slightly disappointed. I mean, I would be too if I were hungry and told to wait for nature to stop showering the whole city.

That’s why I got up from my seat and walked to the kitchen. I stood in front of the fridge.

“May I?” I asked.

“Uh…” Rin followed me, “Sure.”

I opened the fridge—

—and immediately forgot how to breathe.

It was a tragedy in three acts.

Top shelf: one lonely lemon, a half-open pudding cup, and a water bottle that looked like it had been there since the previous government administration.

Middle shelf: two eggs, an unidentifiable plastic container that might’ve been chicken in another lifetime, and a small jar of honey doing its best impression of concrete.

Bottom shelf: soy sauce. Just soy sauce.

I crouched a little, scanning the drawers.

Nothing.

Except rice in the pantry. And soy sauce. And eggs.

I guess the rumors were true. Idols really have the survival instincts of a potato.

I closed the fridge slowly. “You… do realize this thing isn’t just decoration, right?”

“I uh…” She looked away, embarrassed, “don’t use it much.”

Couldn’t have guessed.

I cracked open the fridge again, collecting the eggs, rice, and soy sauce.

Rin blinked, clearly trying to process what was happening.

“…Mikazuki-san, what are you doing?”

I grinned, setting the ingredients on the counter.

“Cooking,” I said simply. “Because someone’s gotta make sure you don’t starve between concerts.”