That hallway on the first floor had, within her three years spent on Karasuno's grounds, become something of Sora's own personal haven. A place where her music filled up the walls and danced on the air like cherry blossom petals, brushing against the cheeks of those that passed by as if it were the hands of a lover that so tenderly touched their skin. Students and teachers always fell into similar reverence whenever they passed through the hallway, abandoning their thoughts and voices in favour of hearing her play and allowing the gentle notes she created to fill up their hearts, for the faster songs to settle heavy on their tongues like molten gold. She was a world-builder, capable of spinning entire universes under the touch of her fingers; an urban legend that was whispered about beneath the waves of her harmonies, hushed words of supernovas and dying stars that sang of unworldly beauties in their final moments.

Her fingers moved seamlessly in their journey across the piano keys, their transition from one note to the next appearing so elegant even with the quick tempo of the piece. Her face was set in the perfect picture of composure, the underlying hums of exhaustion and hunger hidden away by her concentration as she pushed herself into practicing for the upcoming competition. She'd spent the better half of the previous night similarly in the confines of her home, sat with her back straight and hands outstretched to brush against the keys until her body had grown stiff and her mind hazy with neglected dreams. Over the course of two weeks, the time she dedicated to practice had become something of a constant battle, one in which she tirelessly fought with herself to pour her feelings into her music, fill the notes with what she so frequently left unsaid that her audience would be left defenceless against the barrage of it. Over and over, she repeated to herself that she needed overwhelm them, wrap their very breaths between her fingers and pull them from their lungs; leave behind nothing but an empty void waiting to be filled up by the torrent of her emotions. For them to truly understand her; the need grew into something so incessant that the only thing she could think of was the unexplainable craving to carve herself into their hearts and wrap herself around them like a vine, leaving behind such a strong and impactful memory in the wake of her storm that they would see her face whenever they heard a piano play.

She was left breathless by the end of the song, and yet even as each gasp for air was dragged between her parted lips, her red eyes continued to burn against the white music score sat neatly on the sheet holder. It wasn't enough yet, her feelings weren't getting across the way she wanted them to. The room still felt too cold, too empty, too desperate and yearning for the sentiments she kept locked away behind cherry lips. Frustration bubbled on the edge of her exhaustion, leaving her to feel drained and near ready to collapse against the grand piano as angry tears threatened to leave star trails across her brown skin. All her effort — her blood, sweat and tears, the countless nights she forced herself to stay awake, pouring out over black and white keys until her stomach cramped in hunger and her vision turned white — and she was still unable to give her heart to the piece. The very thought caused the golden blood running through her veins to burn hot across her body and collect on the back of her tongue, so that she could focus on nothing but the unrelenting bitterness of her inability. So that it would remind her of everything she lacked and tear her apart by the seams, until she was absolutely destroyed and what remained of her star-filled galaxy was left to scatter across dark plains and disappear beneath black holes. It would break her apart, scream at her until her spirit caved in and left Sora Ishida as nothing but an empty shell.

A familiar face appeared in the doorway, and it was as if she relearned how to breathe in the light of caramel brown eyes. His face was painted into the same concerned frown he'd worn that morning, when he saw her emerge from her front door with red lines beneath her eyes and across her nose. And yet, even in his picture of worry and tender care, he appeared unto her as beautifully as he'd always been; the sight of him there with her was enough to still her aching heart and wash her fears away beneath a gentle summer rain.

"Did you eat yet?"

Guilt consuming her under the weight of Asahi's question, she was left unable to answer as she watched his expression turn from worried to exasperated, his feelings being so effortlessly translated in the heavy sigh he let out. With silent, lumbering steps, he crossed the distance between them with two bento boxes in his hands. He held one out to her wordlessly, his eyes telling of a particularly quiet sternness that was so often absent in his relaxed expressions; she felt as if she were a child being scolded by her senior as she helplessly received the box from his hands, followed after him as he moved to sit beneath the open window, away from the piano.

"I promise I was going to get something from the vending machines before class started again," she tried to appease him, gingerly taking the spot next to him and gazing down at the lid of the box he gave to her. She felt an appreciative smile grow on her lips and was unable to fight back the swelling of her heart for the cute drawing of Totoro, the large cat depicted over the baby blue colours. A doubtful hum came from the boy next to her as she popped the lid to reveal a very delicate arrangement of rice and curried shrimps, broccoli, and carrots.

"You speak as if anything from the vending machine can keep you alive," Asahi said, his words light in his sarcasm as he gently unwrapped his own box, a simple wooden thing with small flowers covering the sides. The smell of the delicious food quickly surrounded them like a warm blanket, familiar in its flavour and, as if to prove his words, caused her stomach to rumble its ascent. She felt her skin grow warm in shame, a resigned smile taking its place across her lips as Asahi's gentle laugh danced on the wind. It was the sound of hushed waters passing through a spring meadow, filled with secrets and promises told to each other beneath the watchful stars, and she wanted more than anything to capture every second of it inside a glass bottle, one that she'd hold close to her heart in every waking moment.

"Mom's basically badgering me to make sure you're eating, too," he admitted to her after swallowing a mouthful of his lunch just as Sora began chewing on hers; she'd nearly missed his words on the high of the delicious flavours on her tongue, feeling herself instantly relax as she absorbed the taste of the curry-covered rice. Heavens, it had been too long since she'd eaten a proper home-cooked meal, considering that both her and her father had been eating store-bought bentos for the past two weeks while her mother left on her travels. Because of her absence, the two had only barely given much thought to properly sustaining themselves on real food, something they wouldn't have been able to get away with had her mother been at home with them. As Asahi continued speaking on nodes of astonishment and a look of betrayal, she relished in another taste of her rice and curried shrimps. "She rarely ever makes lunch for me anymore, but she made sure to do this for you because she felt like you and your dad wouldn't be eating well in Olivia-san's absence — it's like she forgets who her real child is sometimes, honestly."

A laugh rang through from her lips at his expense, recognizing the words for their playful nature. "Well," she hummed, the last of her chuckles tumbling from her mouth like butterflies, "I'll be sure to come over and tell Mitsuba-san thank you for taking such good care of me."

Asahi abandoned his faux-frown for his regular, sweet smile, tilting his head to the side in the softness he always bore with him. "She'd like that — she's really excited to come see you perform again, you know?" At the mention of her upcoming competition, Sora felt her throat lock and tighten around her next breath and her smile drew just a bit tighter, and it was as if the merciless waves that thrashed around in her chest before his arrival were coming back to pull her under.

Sensing her growing turmoil, Asahi's lips turned down and his concerned frown returned to his face; Sora felt so guilty, watching the peaceful expression he bore fade away into undeserved worry, all because she wasn't able to keep her feelings in check. He shouldn't have to worry about her, she silently scolded herself, especially now that he was beginning to get back into volleyball. She should be the one to take away whatever was on his mind, not add extra things for him to worry about when he didn't need to.

Before she could try and brush away his concerns, she watched his hands lower with his bento and chopsticks until they were rested between his crossed legs and turned his head to fully face her. "Is that what has you so torn up these days?" Ah, had he been able to read her feelings all that time? The guilty feeling worsened, knowing that he'd been watching her eat away at herself for so long when he should have been concentrating on his volleyball practices.

She drew a smile across her lips in hopes that it would ease his worries off her, did her best to reassure him that she was alright. The words "Don't worry about me, it's only competition nerves," fell from her lips and she prayed desperately that he would take them as she gave them, that he wouldn't think to try and see through them. And yet, she knew Asahi, and she knew that he could read her like an open book, that he could trace every single constellation that scattered across her caramel skin and connect them to show everything she tried to keep masked beneath her passive smile. She saw now, in the way his coffee brown hues searched the expansive, barren lands of her red eyes, that it was futile to hide anything from him; he was picking apart each and every negative emotion that plagued her dreams, and would lay them out between the both of them so that they were no longer concealed.

"You've been working yourself a lot these past days," he muttered as the lines on his forehead deepened in quiet distress for her and her well-being. It made her wish, for his sake at least, that she would have been more careful. "I know you want to do well but you have to take care of yourself too, you know?"

She sighed again, the sound heavy and relenting to the feeling of weakness that crept across her spine like insects. How was she supposed to tell the boy in front of her about what was plaguing her? How could she look at him and tell him sorry that he had to put up with such a boring person for so long? A girl of placid expressions and smiles that never told enough of the happiness she felt whenever she was with him, how could she say sorry for being so plain and apathetic? She tried and tried, but the words wouldn't come out of her throat. Like a cruel joke, the words of her classmates echoed in her mind, "Really, Ishida-san, you're too bland! It's so hard to tell what you're really thinking!" And though their words were said in a harmless remark, Sora couldn't help the way that she'd begun to consider them for their weight, dwelling on them for longer than she should have until they began to fester in her mind like an open wound. As bad as she felt for having been the most boring, uninteresting, friend, as cold and lifeless as icy wastelands, she was selfish and didn't want to let go of the boy who warmed her dead heart with his joy and smiles.

And so, this selfish girl forced her lips to move with a prayer at the back of her throat, that no matter what, she would still be able to latch on to the boy that made her happy. "I have to keep playing, Asahi." The smile on her lips burned like acid, the doubts and worries that plagued her in the latest hours of the night threatened to choke her with tendons of shadows until she would collapse and fall away. But she kept going, pushed past their restraints so that if anything, at least he would be able to understand her when no one else would. "If I don't play, then how else will they understand me?"

And there it was. The look that was able to wash away each pain of her heart and fill it up with a never ending well of acceptance for everything she was. Asahi's smile was so gentle and tender, warm under the afternoon sun where the smell of curried shrimps and chalk dust surrounded them between four walls. In that moment, her entire universe shrunk, compassed itself to fit between the seconds that passed them by like fine gold dust and red rose petals. In the place where her music fell silent and her heart ached for the familiar burn of unexpressed feelings, she felt herself instead embraced by everything that he was, drank up the sunlight that stretched across lavender fields and green grass meadows. Her universe became the hallway on the first floor where students and teachers let their hearts sing on her keys; the piano room that had seen her crack and fall apart and build herself together again; her universe became him.

She felt her heart melt into a puddle when Asahi's hands cupped her cheeks and lifted her head so that she could meet his gaze once more, so that she could see the endless patience in the smile he bore. He had always been a tender boy with a heart of glass, a little pessimistic and an abstract sense of humour that drew shameless laughter from the depths of her belly. He was a grounding anchor that kept her tethered among harsh waves, a beacon of light in the darkest moments of her life. And with his hands holding her the way they did, he was guiding her out of that darkness to bring her back to him, letting words of comfort and promises of safety dance on the wind and wrap around her heart.

His thumbs rubbed slow, easy circles across her skin and he held his eyes locked with hers, drowning her in pools of caramel and warm coffee. "Isn't it more important," his voice came in on a low whisper, one that tickled her ears and caused her heart to flutter, "for you to understand yourself more?"

And suddenly, the universe fell quiet. Everything except for them had suddenly stopped moving, becoming trapped in a vortex of stagnant time flow that left her alone with him. The chalk dust and sakura petals had all become still, and all that remained was his warm smile and the feeling of his palms against her skin. His soft words echoed in their small space with an impact great enough to shatter and recreate the foundations she'd built up in her chest; she could do nothing to fight against it, let herself become swallowed up by him so that he could mould her as he wished. Until she became everything he would want; he only needed to command her and she would act.

"If you're able to understand yourself, won't everything turn out alright" He said, "and if it'll make you feel better, I understand you perfectly fine."

He was right. Was there any real need for the world to understand her? What would their validation and acceptance bring her save for transparency in places where she preferred obscurity? Just as quickly as her worries had overtaken her, they seemed to dissipate like stardust, crumbling between Asahi's fingers and leaving back a bright and genuine smile. She lifted her hands to hold on to his, felt the warmth that met against her cold skin and let it fill her up to the brim. "It makes me feel much better," she told him, grinning back as his lips stretched farther across his face, "it means the world to me."

As a musician, Sora Ishida could create entire worlds beneath the tips of her fingers, could tell legends in the sounds of the melodies she played. And yet, she decided that there was no world more beautiful than the one where Asahi Azumane remained in her life.

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tea time!

i was kinda stewing over this chapter because i kept changing the story line for it :weary: like i started with one idea, drove around with three others, then came up with the final one that i didn't even write because i wrote this one smh

-unedited