I met Megumi in my first year at Raito Kiss, the previous magazine I worked at. We both madly loved the world of punk rock and everything its music stood for. Even though punk inevitably reminded me of Makoto, I was thankful to the music that helped me get a good friend.

The two of us became inseparable and we even decided to leave the magazine together to return to my city, Tokyo. 

I had always told her everything, so when I realized that I would have to keep the fact that a rock star lived with me, a tabloid journalist, a secret, I felt overwhelmed. 

Upon discovering that she knew the band and all her interest in it, the fear grew to the point of avoiding talking about my hours outside of work. But everything had changed, Miyazaki would be with me not only at home, but also at work.

After we finished talking and setting a deadline to turn in my work, we decided to go eat in the cafeteria. Megumi, with the excuse of discussing the design of my article, joined us.

While I ate a sandwich, hot and squashed, Megumi sat next to Miyazaki trying to capture all his scents in her nostrils.

 "Miyazaki, your first official album is coming out at the end of this month, right?" asked her. 

 "Yep, I'm very excited and grateful for this great opportunity!"

 "How was your rise to fame? A few months ago Mystical Key was just a street group, wasn't it?"

While Megumi was interrogating Miyazaki, I tried to escape from the conversation, from the room, from everything. I felt just like the meat in my sandwich, squashed between two burning buns.

 Miyazaki, chuckling, leaned back in his seat, "well… The story is a bit long, but it could be summed up in that I was lucky when our agent discovered us at the Music Island bar".

Oh, I got burned.

"Ayumi, wasn't that your aunt's bar?" Megumi asked me abruptly. 

And I, puzzled, asked "Huh? What are you talking about?" 

"Daydreaming, like always" annoyed, Megumi slapped in front of my nose, "Music Island! wasn't that the name of your aunt's bar?"

I finally fell into their conversation. With fear I turned my eyes towards Miyazaki looking for support, but the only thing I found was a mischievous smile on his face. He made me sick. 

"Yes… That's its name, it's in Shibuya, 10 minutes from the station" I answered. 

"That's incredible!" Megumi exclaimed excitedly. "Mystical Key played at your bar!"

"It's not mine..." I murmured in an almost deaf tone.

"I'm not the best artist who has performed there, though," Miyazaki stated. 

Confused, I looked at him. Deep in his eyes, I thought I had just seen them glow. Just a little, a glimpse of a so-called genuine smile. 

"A few years ago, when one of my best friends had a breakup I took him to that bar, just because it was the closest in the area".

The intrigue pushed me to continue listening.

"When I saw the poster for open mic night, I thought it’d be a great idea to sing, to forget all the sorrows...". In silence, his eyes fell on my fingers, which were still holding the hot sandwich, "but we didn't sing that night". 

"What?" Megumi asked, "why?"

Slowly his gaze went up. I felt analyzed by every part he stopped to observe, my elbows, my shoulders, my neck, my lips. My eyes. 

But the color on his face was unknown, his smile was not familiar, the gentleness that emanated from his face seemed to carry melancholy. It was a sad, but warm smile. "That night a person sang, she was very good, so much so that it was scary to go up and spoil the atmosphere. That's why we just listened to her carefully". 

I hated those moments when he showed me an expression I had never seen before. And I hated them even more when the expression wasn't cruel. ç

Megumi, beaten, rested her cheek on one of her hands and scratched her head, "then, when did you sing for the first time?"

Miyazaki, returning to his usual sly expression, looked at Megumi. “The last night I listened to her play".

I felt a lump in my throat, but swallowed, and took a bite of my sandwich.

“Eeeeeeeh?” Megumi blurted out, disappointed.

I didn't quite understand  to whom his words were directed towards and, bewildered, I preferred to keep silent. 

"That's another story" Miyazaki nodded, leaning on the table with his elbows, "after all, this is only the beginning"

"Yeah, your future is even brighter than now!" Megumi said.

His expression became distorted to the point of dissipating his smile in the air, along with the sound of Megumi's laughter.

The night would be long.

☻☻☻

When my shift ended, around 6 PM, Miyazaki and I headed towards Aunt Sumire's bar where Miyoko, Reina, Minato and my aunt's best friend, Mai, were waiting.

For a month I had avoided going to the bar at night with the intention of not running into Miyazaki, but there was no point in hiding it anymore. I needed to tell my friends.

As soon as they saw us enter together at sunset, they bombarded us with questions at the bar, utterly astonished. 

My aunt Sumire was the one in charge of explaining everything to them. 

"So you live together..." Miyoko muttered, perplexed.

"Shh" I covered my mouth with one of my fingers. "This is a secret, only you can know about it".

"You, my manager and the band," Miyazaki clarified.

Minato, however, seemed to be enjoying that picture and, laughing, put his arm around my shoulders. “But isn’t it amazing?! Who would believe that when you return to the Tokyo that broke your heart you would have a new roommate? and not just anyone! A punk-rock star!

A voice within my soul babbled My aunt's name. Sumire knew it. 

The three of us, Miyazaki, my aunt and I, look at each other. We had been mere victims of her games.

Nevertheless, all that happiness soon disappeared when Reina finally spoke. “Guys" with phone in hand, "I just received a message. Makoto is coming tonight". 

A shiver ran through my entire body. They all looked at me. Their eyes, full of concern, made me feel small before the world that emerged in front of me. The world which was trapped in a glass of iced tea, with its ice half-melted.

"You sure are despicable". 

No, it wasn't going to melt. Reality had to do its thing and give me a little courage. Miyazaki had to do it.

"Excuse me?" Offended, I looked at him.

Crossing his arms, he leaned back, resting his back against the bar, "you are still afraid of him, and  keep letting yourself be influenced by his feelings, that's so gross". 

But that person in front of me wasn't him. He was nobody.

"You don't know how much I suffered," I reproached him.

"You sure? Maybe your problem is not knowing how to face problems. You hurt yourself all by yourself". 

It stung, every word he said felt worse than the burn of alcohol down my salt-covered throat. 

"Why don't you try to give a change of perspective to those negative feelings of yours? If you do, you may be able to understand how relative they are, and start walking forward with a big smile".  All of us, stunned, remained silent. And his gaze grew harsh again. "Crying and laughing sound the same" he concluded. 

There was one rule aside, the most important in the contract. The rule that Miyazaki decided to put as the first, highlighted, written with a bold type letter.

《1.Falling in love is strictly prohibited》

And in that same moment I promised myself that I would never break it. No matter what, no matter when, and no matter why.

"Y-you don't know anything!" I exclaimed. 

Nevertheless, even if I did say that, deep down, I knew that it wasn't true. I was just angry and didn't want to listen to him anymore. Hence, I got up, ready to leave.

His sincere words hurt more than imagining Makoto, and as I walked toward the door I wondered if seeing him would be three times as painful.

See his dark brunette hair, his deep gaze, his tender lips. Hearing his voice say my name. I wondered what it would feel like to see Makoto.

"Makoto…" It didn't take me long to find out, because the person who had just slammed the door upon entering was my first and only love.

His hair had changed, slicked and combed. Suited, with a briefcase, like an adult. He had changed.

"Ayumi?" but his voice had not. 

I wanted to laugh while crying or cry while laughing.

The relativity of sound