Photo of the Truth I Avoided

The city was soft tonight.

From the balcony of my apartment, the skyline blinked like a field of fireflies — distant, unreachable, almost too beautiful to be real.

And yet… I couldn’t get the words I said to him leave my head no matter how much I tried to.

“You take photos and think you see everything, but you don’t know what any of this feels like!”

“Why did I even say that?” A soft sigh escaped me.

Inside, the faint hum of the air purifier and the quiet tick of the clock were my only company.

I hadn’t eaten dinner.

The take-out bag the staff left for me sat untouched on the counter.

Every time I tried to lift my chopsticks, the scene replayed again and again: the booth, the glare of the recording lights, Hajime’s disappointment painted in his eyes.

He didn’t even sound angry. That’s what stung the most.

I pressed my fingers against my temples, closing my eyes.

What is even wrong with me?

Ever since Yozora Yoru showed up, I’ve been feeling unlike myself. And I knew it wasn’t her presence that rattled me so. We had worked together in the past before and although she was clearly trying to one up me, none of what she did really fazed me.

But… why this?

Why did it hurt so much, seeing her act so casual with Hajime-san?

He wasn’t even mine to begin with. He could talk and act however he wanted with anyone and yet…

It still hurt. Maybe because ever since he arrived everything has been so much more fun… alive, honest.

Every passing day I feel like I’m discovering new sides of myself I forgot existed.

But the thought of him sharing those moments with someone else too…

The pit in my stomach was all the proof I needed. This feeling was an ugly one.

One that, as an idol, I wasn’t supposed to have. Because I was supposed to be… perfect.

And there was no room for such a feeling.

When was even the last time I felt something for myself?

I couldn’t remember. But this profound sting in my chest… it was undoubtedly mine. And although I knew I wasn’t supposed to feel this way, it hurt even more.

Hajime is my friend. I never even had a friend before all this…

And yet I hurt him. I said words I can’t take back now.

I opened my eyes. On the table lay the lyric sheet for Parallel Lights.

Two lights running through the dark, never crossing, but never apart…

When we sang that line, I’d thought about him — just for a second.

His camera, always a little too honest. His words, always a little too kind.

Maybe that’s why it stung when he looked disappointed. Because he saw me. And I hated that I made that look turn away.

How could I fix this? What could I do? I didn’t know the first thing about friendships.

But I could… learn.

I opened my laptop and started typing.

“How to make up with friend”

Surprisingly there were many results. I started reading.

“Apologize”

“Talk it out”

“Communicate”

“Trust”

I sighed, leaning back on my chair.

The message was clear enough. I had to apologize. Make things right..

I wanted to tell him how weird it all feels and how much his presence calms me.

But how could I see him in a place where we could be just the two of us?

My eyes scanned the living room, as an idea sparked in my head.

Last time Hajime came over to fix my home camera setup. Right now it was working fine.

But… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a small malfunction.

But if I saw him again… would he even look at me the same?”

The thought alone made my chest tighten.

Still… I had to try.

XX

The camera sat on my desk like an accomplice.

Its tiny red indicator light blinked in the dark — steady, judgmental.

I knelt beside it, knees brushing against the edge of the carpet.

“Alright… just one quick adjustment,” I murmured, as if explaining it to the room rather than myself.

I tugged gently at the HDMI cable. It clicked loose. The monitor screen flickered.

“Oops,” I said softly. “What a tragedy.”

My voice came out too flat even for sarcasm.

For a second, guilt bubbled up. This is ridiculous. You’re an adult, Rin. You can just text him.

But then I remembered the look on Hajime’s face earlier — quiet disappointment wrapped in polite restraint — and that thought twisted somewhere deep in my chest.

“I’m just giving myself a reason to apologize properly,” I whispered, even as I pulled another cable halfway out of its port.

The monitor went black.

Perfect.

Gently, I folded my hands in my lap and sighed. “I should be arrested.”

A few minutes later, I stood by the window, phone in hand.

My thumbs hovered over Saya’s name. I typed, deleted, retyped — finally settling on something plain.

Rin: Hello, Saya-san. I think my home camera setup malfunctioned again. Could you ask Mikazuki-san if he’s available to check it?

I stared at the screen for a solid ten seconds before pressing send.

My pulse didn’t settle.

Then the overthinking started:

What if he’s asleep? What if he’s busy? What if he thinks I’m doing this on purpose—

Well… technically I was.

To distract myself, I went to get ready — tied my hair into a loose side ponytail, changed into a cozy knit top and skirt. Nothing fancy, but enough to look presentable in case he came over.

I even poured tea for two.

Minutes passed.

My phone buzzed.

Saya: I just checked. Don’t worry, Rin-san. I’ll send somebody to swing by and fix it tonight.

I blinked.

“Somebody?”

The knock came barely fifteen minutes later.

“Ah, Haj—”

My excitement was cut short.

When I opened the door, a tall man in overalls stood there holding a toolbox.

“Uh, good evening, Tsukishiro-san. I’m from Arclight Tech. Got a report of camera malfunction?”

My face froze. “…Ah. Yes. That.”

He smiled politely and stepped inside, setting down his bag.

I stood to the side, expression calm but my soul leaving my body.

He worked fast — unplug, replug, reboot.

“Seems like the HDMI wasn’t fully connected,” he said. “It happens a lot when cables loosen slightly.”

I forced a smile. “Ah… I see. So it was… loose.”

“Yep. All fixed now.”

He packed up, bowed, and left.

The door clicked shut.

The tea on the table had gone cold.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the freshly glowing monitor.

Then I whispered, “Unbelievable.”

My reflection in the screen looked half-defeated, half-determined.

What else was there to do? If Hajime didn’t appear himself then…

Night crept along the edges of the curtains, and the thought came suddenly, recklessly clear.

His address had been in the contact sheet for staff distribution, back when I double-checked the schedule. I hadn’t thought much of it then — until now.

I could go.

The words felt dangerous — thrilling.

I never just went anywhere. Not without a schedule, not without a driver, not without telling someone.

I could always talk to him tomorrow and yet…

Tomorrow wasn’t good enough.

“Fine. If fate won’t help me, I’ll help myself.”

I pulled on a loose beige hoodie, jeans, sneakers. A black mask. A cap that hid most of my hair.

In the mirror, the reflection staring back looked like any other college girl on a late grocery run.

Or at least that’s what the TV dramas said.

I hesitated by the door, hand hovering over the knob.

There were cameras by the main lobby — but there was a side exit for deliveries, rarely used at night.

Saya-san once told me not to go there alone. But Saya-san wasn’t the one who’d said something unforgivable today.

“Just for a few minutes,” I told the empty air.

Then I slipped out the side door, disappearing into the soft Tokyo night.