Empty Applause

CHAPTER-5

I hated the quiet after a show.

The applause faded too fast, and what came after always felt heavier than it should have.

I had just stepped off the stage when Minori approached me.

“Hey,” Minori said brightly. “You were great up there.”

I smiled out of habit. “Thanks.”

Minori tilted her head. “You don’t look like you believe that.”

I sighed. “I felt my singing was a bit off. The whole performance just… annoyed me.”

Minori shrugged. “Most people didn’t notice.”

“I did,” I replied.

A few steps behind Minori, Issei stood quietly. It didn’t look like he planned to say anything.

But when I spoke again, my voice was softer.

“I don’t know why nights like this bother me so much.”

A voice spoke up behind Minori.

“Because you care.”

Both of us turned to look at him.

He hesitated. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I shrugged, brushing the moment off.

“Caring doesn’t really help when you’re the one on stage,” I said.

Minori opened her mouth, probably to argue, but Issei spoke first.

“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s worse when you stop caring.”

I blinked.

I hadn’t expected that. Not from someone standing a step behind, hands in his pockets like he was ready to disappear at any moment.

“…You’re surprisingly blunt,” I said.

He looked embarrassed. “Sorry.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s fine.”

I exhaled, the tension in my shoulders easing just a bit.

“Stopping would be easier,” I said. “But I don’t think I’d forgive myself.”

Issei nodded once. “Yeah.”

That was all he said, but it landed heavier than a longer speech would have.

Minori glanced between them again. “Okay, now I feel like a third wheel.”

I shot her a look. “You dragged him here.”

“I did,” Minori said proudly.

I turned back to him. “So… what did you think?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“That you shouldn’t quit,” he said. “Even on nights like this.”

I adjusted the strap of my guitar case.

“…I should get going,” I said.

Minori looked like she wanted to say something, but Kana was already stepping back.

“Thanks for coming,” I added, then paused. “I really appreciate the support.”

I didn’t wait for a response before heading toward the door.

Outside, the night air felt cooler than I expected. I walked for a bit before realizing I was still replaying his words, over and over, like a line I couldn’t get out of her head.

Easy for him to say.

I tightened her grip on the guitar case and kept walking.

I eventually made it back to her apartment.

I usually wiped my guitar’s strings the moment she got home.

Tonight, I didn’t.

I didn’t turn on the light.

I headed straight to the bed.

I laid down on the bed without changing, staring up at the ceiling.

The room was too quiet.

I closed my eyes, and the silence filled in the gaps my thoughts didn’t want to touch.

Five years ago, I would’ve been buzzing after a show like this. Even a bad one. I would’ve thought about every good or bad moment, already thinking about how to do it better next time.

Now all I felt... was tired.

I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket up to my shoulders.

That you shouldn’t quit.

I scoffed quietly.

He hadn’t seen the empty venues.
The ignored releases.
The numbers that never really moved.

I exhaled slowly.

“Still… he didn’t sound like he was pitying me.”

That part bothered me the most.

That thought lingered longer than I wanted it to.

Pity would’ve been easier to dismiss. I’d learned how to do that. A polite smile, a nod, moving on. But his words hadn’t sounded like that. They didn’t feel carefully chosen.

They felt… certain.

I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall. The city outside was quieter at this hour. No traffic, no voices. Just the low hum of something distant.

Five years.

Five years of playing small venues. Five years of telling myself the next release would matter more than the last. Five years of hearing almost, potential, keep going.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Don’t quit,” was easy advice when you weren’t the one counting.

I turned over again and pulled the blanket higher, trying to sleep. It took longer than usual.

Sleep eventually found me, but it wasn’t kind.

When I woke up, my body felt stiff and my head heavier than usual. Morning light slipped through the curtains, landing on the wall across from my bed. I watched it for a while, letting time pass.

Another day.

I sat up and reached for my phone, scrolling through notifications without really reading any of them. Messages from my label. A reminder about an upcoming meeting. Nothing urgent. Nothing exciting.

And then I got a message from none other than Minori.

Minori: Yo how you holding up?

Kana: I am doing fine as always

Minori: You didn’t look all that fine last night

Kana: Just tired you know haha

Minori: Well if you say so
Just always remember to smile and look after yourself
:D

Well I’ve always smiled... just a fake one at times...

I’ve come a long way from that 16 year old fragile and honest Kana. If you want to get anywhere in this industry, you have to please people… even at the expense of your feelings and thoughts. That’s the price you pay for a shot at success…

I lay back down, staring at the ceiling again. My mind wandered to a younger me, 16 years old, clutching a cheap guitar in a dimly lit bedroom, dreaming of a life that seemed impossibly far away.

Back then, every note mattered. Every mistake was a lesson. Every applause, real or imagined, felt like proof I could survive.

And now… five years later… the applauses felt kind of empty, the mistakes magnified in my own mind, and the proof was always just out of reach.

Every day it feels like I no longer want to hold that guitar or spend nights working on new music, because it hurts when I don’t see those results of all that hard work.

My phone buzzed and it was an email from my record label.

According to the email, they’ve got some important things to discuss with me and want to meet with them asap.

I chuckled, more bitter than amused. “Yeah, maybe they’ve finally decided I’m too slow, too quiet, too… whatever.”

I imagined the label execs huddled in a conference room, shaking their heads, writing the eulogy of my career.

And yet… even in that ridiculous, dark daydream, a tiny part of me hoped I’d be surprised.

Maybe it wasn’t all over.

END CHAPTER-5