Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room was a hodgepodge of musical equipment, the scent of old guitar strings lingering in the air. A single, flickering bulb cast a warm yellow glow, illuminating the band's makeshift stage in the otherwise dim garage. Misaki, her eyes glued to the synth's keys, played a solemn melody, her fingers moving with a precision that spoke of years of practice. Her long, dark hair fell in a curtain around her face, shielding her from the outside world, or perhaps, from her own bandmates.

Kokoro, the lead singer, bobbed her head to the rhythm, her voice a stark contrast to the somber tune Misaki laid out. Her words, filled with hope and light, danced through the garage, painting a picture of a world Misaki didn't believe in. Her ragged blonde hair flew in time with her movements, a beacon of cheer in the sea of shadows and doubt.

Misaki's frustration grew with each note. She abruptly stopped playing, her hands hovering above the synth, frozen in a silent protest. "What's the point of all this?" she snapped, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "We're not going anywhere with these sugary lyrics and happy melodies."

Kokoro's eyes widened, the smile slipping from her lips. She stared at Misaki, confused. "What do you mean? I thought we were all on the same page."

Misaki scoffed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You think playing in a garage band is going to get us anywhere? That's just a fairy tale for people who can't face reality."

Hagumi, the orange-haired bassist, gently laid her instrument aside and approached Misaki, her soft eyes filled with concern. "Hey, we're just doing what we love," she said soothingly, "let's not fight about it."

But Misaki scoffed at Hagumi's words, her gaze unwavering. "You can't just ignore the fact that we're going nowhere fast with this," she shot back, her voice edged with a desperation that surprised even herself. "We need to get real or we're never going to make it."

Kaoru, the guitarist with a deep purple ponytail, stepped in, her voice firm yet measured. "I disagree, Misaki," she said, her hands still gripping the neck of her electric guitar. "We're practicing for the school festival next week, remember? It's not just for fun, it's for the exposure. It's a chance to show people what we can do."

Misaki rolled her eyes, the cynicism in her voice thick. "Exposure? What's that going to get us? A pat on the back and a gold star?" She crossed her arms over her chest, the sound of her drummer, Kanon, ceasing her rhythm echoing in the silence. "I joined this band because I thought we had potential, but lately, it's just been the same old, same old."

Kokoro took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing with passion. "These songs mean something to me," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor of hurt in her eyes. "They're about hope and love. They're about fighting through the bad times." She paused, looking around the room at her bandmates. "Isn't that what we're all about? Misaki, why can't you see that our music can make a difference?"

Misaki's anger grew, her eyes flashing. "Make a difference?" she spat. "We're just a little high school band playing in a garage! We're not going to change the world with our music." She slammed her hand down on the synth, the harsh sound echoing through the small space. "How can you be so delusional?!"

But before anyone could respond, a sudden snare pierced the tension-filled silence. It was Kanon, the drummer dressed in light blue, who had been quietly sitting in the corner, her sticks resting on the snare. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears, her lower lip trembling. "I can't take this anymore..." The words were barely a whisper.

Misaki's heart sank as she looked at Kanon, her own anger dissipating in the face of the younger girl's pain. She knew she had gone too far. "Kanon, I'm sorry," she began, her voice softer than she had intended. "I didn't mean to..."

But Kanon didn't let her finish. "No, you're right, Misaki," she interrupted, her voice cracking. "You're always right." She stood up, her small frame seeming to shrink even further in the face of Misaki's towering presence. "You're the one who's always pushing us to be better, who's always looking for the next big thing..."

Her words tumbled out in a rush, a dam of pent-up frustration breaking open. "But what about what we feel? What about the joy we find in playing together?" She gestured around the garage, her eyes pleading. "This isn't just about being famous or making it big. It's about creating something that means something to us!"

Misaki took a step back, the weight of Kanon's words hitting her like a slap. She had never seen her so upset, so vocal. The room felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken feelings. "You're always so focused on success," Kanon continued, her voice gaining strength, "but what's the point if we're not happy doing it?"

Kanon's complaints grew into a barrage, each word a bullet ricocheting around the garage. "You never let us try new things, you're always criticizing, and you don't even bother to listen to what we have to say!" The drummer's eyes searched Misaki's, looking for some sign of understanding, some hint that her words were getting through. But Misaki averted her gaze, ashamed of herself.

The room was still, the echoes of Kanon's accusations lingering like the aftermath of a storm. Hagumi and Kaoru shared a look, the same realization dawning on both of them. They had felt the same way before, though they had never spoken up about it. Finally, Hagumi spoke up, her voice tentative but firm. "Maybe we should take a break," she suggested. "We're all feeling pretty heated right now."

Misaki nodded curtly, her eyes still on the floor. As the band members began to pack up their instruments, Kokoro stood in the middle of the garage, her heart racing. The happiest band in the world? The phrase she had once whispered to herself during their first practice felt like a distant memory now, a shattered dream amidst the wreckage of their argument. She had tried so hard to keep their spirits high, to be the glue that held them together, but it was clear that her approach had only pushed them apart.

With a heavy sigh, she gripped her microphone, feeling the cool metal on her hand. The weight of the moment bore down on her, the reality of their situation sinking in. Kokoro had always seen the band as a beacon of happiness, a way to spread joy through their music. But now, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been chasing a pipe dream.

No... Kokoro thought, I can't give up. Not now!

Forcing a smile onto her face, she turned to her bandmates. "Okay, let's just cool off," she said, her voice a forced cheer. "We've got a week to practice for the festival. We can work it out." Inside, her heart felt like it was being wrung dry, but she couldn't let them see her pain.

Hagumi and Kaoru exchanged glances, then nodded, picking up their gear and heading for the door. Misaki watched them go, her eyes lingering on Kanon, who hadn't moved from her spot, the drums silent behind her. "What the hell did I do..." she began, her voice cracking.

But before she could say more, Kokoro stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Let's talk," she said, her voice filled with a determination that had been missing from their music lately. Misaki nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

They found themselves sitting on the cold concrete floor of the garage, surrounded by their silent instruments. The only sound was their own breathing, shallow and uneven in the wake of the fight.

Misaki opened her mouth to apologize, the words feeling thick and foreign on her tongue. But before she could get them out, Kokoro spoke up, her voice filled with a newfound resolve. "I've been thinking," she said, her eyes shining with an idea. "Maybe we need to change things up."

Misaki's heart skipped a beat. Was it possible? Had she finally gotten through to her? "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously, her cynicism momentarily forgotten.

Kokoro took a deep breath, her eyes shining with excitement. "What if we invite another band to play at our school festival gig? It could be like a collaboration, a chance to show that we're not just about one style or sound. Maybe it'll give us a fresh perspective."

Kanon's eyes lit up, a smile spreading across her face. "That's a great idea, Kokoro!" she exclaimed, the tension in the room dissipating like a forgotten chord. The idea of playing with another band, of mixing their music with someone else's, seemed to resonate with the drummer in a way that nothing else had. It was a chance to break free from the stifling confines of their garage, to explore the vast landscape of music beyond their four walls.

Misaki, however, remained skeptical, one eyebrow arched. "Yeah, but who?" she questioned, her voice still edged with doubt. "I don't know anyone who we can invite at such a short notice."

Kokoro's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I've got connections," she said, her voice filled with a confidence that seemed to light up the garage. "Remember when I told you about my cousin, the one in the indie band?"

Misaki nodded, her curiosity piqued. "Yeah, the one that's always playing at those underground venues?"

"Exactly!" Kokoro's voice was filled with excitement. "He's got a great band that can do improv, and they've got a sound that's totally different from ours. It'll be like throwing a surprise party for our music, and who knows? Maybe it'll bring us closer together."

Misaki studied Kokoro's hopeful expression, the fire in her eyes, and for a brief moment, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time: hope. It was a dangerous emotion, one she had long ago learned to keep at bay, but with Kokoro's infectious enthusiasm, it was hard to resist. And then there was Kanon, whose smile was slowly returning, whose eyes held the same spark that had first drawn her to the drummer's talent.

"Fine," Misaki said finally, her voice gruff but not unkind. "We'll invite them. But I still have my doubts."

Kokoro's smile grew wider, and she nodded, her eyes never leaving Misaki's. She knew that was the best she was going to get from her, and she was more than willing to take it. "Okay," she said, standing up and brushing off her skirt, "let's make it happen."

Misaki watched as Kokoro practically floated out of the garage, her heart feeling a bit lighter than it had in a while. She turned to Kanon, who was still looking at her drum kit, lost in thought. "I guess we should tell Hagumi and Kaoru," she said, breaking the silence.

Kanon turned to Misaki, her eyes glistening. "Thank you," she murmured. "For listening."

Misaki nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I'm sorry," she said, the words coming out awkwardly. "I was just thinking of myself, and-"

"Don't," Kanon interrupted, her voice firm. "We're all in this together. We just need to find a balance, that's all."

Misaki nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. They had to find a way to blend their individual styles and visions without tearing the band apart. As she texted Hagumi and Kaoru about the new development, the weight of their decision settled heavily on her shoulders. The festival was a big deal, and inviting another band was a bold move. But if it brought them closer together, made their music better, it was worth a shot.