You’ve been on tour for the last six or so months after the release of your most recent album. Tonight, you’re performing your last show in your hometown, Yokohama City.

Dazai and Chuuya knew you were on tour. It was a little impossible to miss, considering your face seems to be plastered everywhere on the internet, every magazine. The second your voice plays on the radio it’s switched off.

You, Chuuya and Dazai have been broken up for about a year and a half. Chuuya and Dazai were in a musical duo, but amicably split at eighteen to work on solo projects. It was at an award’s show that you all initially met each other. At the time, being in the public eye was new to you, but not to them.

Still, your breakup was a classic story. With the paparazzi breathing down your necks, ready to misconstrue any one move, it became harder to function in your relationship. Chuuya and Dazai remained close after the breakup and even though you distanced yourself, it still hurt. After some petty tweets in the first month after the breakup, you were all banned by your PR managers from talking about each other.

Dazai had the grand—terrible, according to Chuuya—to attend your last show.

“Chuuya doesn’t understand that we’re just being nice and supporting our ex.” Dazai had declared. He’s in a mood to stir the pot and convinces Chuuya that nobody, especially you, would even know that they were there; and so VIP tickets were purchased.

Chuuya can blame Dazai and be irritated all he likes, but he knows deep down that he does want to see you. He knows that Dazai’s trouble-inducing actions are really just a reflection that he misses you, too—and this is all they can really do about it.

So, here they are, up in a VIP booth within the stadium. They’re going into this with zero preparation, neither of them listened to your album. They avoided it like the plague where they could, secretly scared wondering if you had written about them, the relationship. Now, they wait as the openers play their set.