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keith_ltd2022-01-16 09:17 pm
runawayballista) wrote in keith_ltd2022-01-16 09:17 pm
Live at the Mile High Club! Chapter 11
Fandom: BanG Dream!, Scum Villain
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: Mobei Jun seems preoccupied, and the whole band is feeling the tension—but the one who really feels singled out is Luo Binghe.
Notes: PIDW band special chapter ✨ time for luo binghe's friendship arc!
End notes
AO3 mirror
Mobei Jun was even more silent than usual during dinner, seeming to be distracted by her phone for most of the evening. If she noticed that Sha Hualing had her order swapped out for something completely different, she didn’t show it. Her face was as expressive as a stone wall as usual, but there was something extra distant about it lately, especially tonight. Six Balls and Luo Binghe both tried to draw her into the conversation—there was a movie Meiyin was suggesting they all go see together, since they hardly ever hung out aside from band business—but Mobei Jun only briefly acknowledged the attempts before falling back into distraction with her phone again. After a few attempts, Luo Binghe gave up in a huff and decided to ignore her in retaliation, even half-turning away from her as Meiyin listed off the premise for a romantic dramedy to a Sha Hualing who was pretending to look disinterested, but perked up as soon as Meiyin mentioned the anime series it was a tie-in for.
Six Balls, dauntless, frowned a little and prodded Mobei Jun’s leg with the toe of her sneaker. Mobei Jun didn’t react at all, her brow slightly furrowed as she scrolled through her phone. It was true that Six Balls would never press Mobei Jun to talk about anything she really didn’t want to share, but…she was really distracted lately. And that lady, Linguang Jun—definitely a relative, but definitely not Mobei Jun’s mom. She never talked about her parents. Maybe she didn’t have any. Maybe Linguang Jun was her legal guardian? Linguang Jun really seemed like the bossy type. Whatever their relationship was, they obviously didn’t get along.
Yeah, yeah, she wouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t stop her imagination from wondering. Six Balls had never given deep thought to Mobei Jun’s home life, but having been inside that huge, empty house with its fancy toilets and unnecessary number of staircases, she was getting really curious. That, and…Mobei Jun didn’t seem the happy kind of distracted. If Mobei Jun was struggling with something, even if she couldn’t or didn’t want to talk about it, the band would still be there for her to lean on. She had to know that. But she always just took care of stuff without talking to them about it—the studio reservations and paying for them too, covering dinner, going after Luo Binghe whenever her mood swung like a pendulum…Six Balls was pretty sure Mobei Jun had also bought Luo Binghe a new guitar after she’d broken her last one. Mobei Jun always acted like an adult, even when they were playing onstage.
In the end, Six Balls didn’t know what to say, so she just stuffed a pack of Hi-Chews into Mobei Jun’s bag on their way out of Hell’s Bells. Mobei Jun acknowledged it with a nod, and she and Luo Binghe parted from the rest of the group to head in the opposite direction.
If Luo Binghe had wanted to go back to the group home, she would’ve done so without saying anything; she only walked to the station with Mobei Jun if she planned on staying at her borrowed room. She didn’t have to ask. Mobei Jun left it a standing offer for that reason. She wouldn’t pretend she could imagine what it was like for Luo Binghe to grow up the way she did, but she certainly wasn’t going to make it any more humiliating for her.
But Luo Binghe still seemed to be in a mood after dinner and didn’t speak at all on the walk to the station. She sneaked furtive sidelong glances whenever she thought Mobei Jun wasn’t paying attention, waiting for the silence to break. Mobei Jun was perfectly comfortable with silence, and at any rate, she was only ankle-deep in research and still wading deeper.
The train platform was empty, blocks of late afternoon sunlight burning brightly on the concrete. Mobei Jun stood in the shade to avoid the glare, but Luo Binghe stood in the sun, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The only sounds that passed on the wind were the distant rattling of trains and the chattering of birds overhead.
At first, Luo Binghe stared resolutely straight ahead, her brow furrowed and her expression dark. But finally she turned her towards Mobei Jun and burst out, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Mobei Jun looked up. Luo Binghe’s face seemed to glow in the setting sunlight, though her expression was dark, her eyes burning. Mobei Jun tilted her head slightly, her pale hair falling over her shoulder.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re keeping something from us. I know it. I can tell.” Luo Binghe started to take a step towards her, but rocked back on her heels, narrowing her eyes instead. “What did Linguang Jun say to you after we left?”
Mobei Jun was silent for a moment. She glanced down at her phone, then pocketed it. “I’ve never pried into your life, Binghe.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widened as though she had been slapped.
“It has to do with the band, doesn’t it?”
When Mobei Jun didn’t answer immediately, Luo Binghe pointed accusingly at her.
“That’s not fair! Who was it who told me you’re not the only member of this band? Well, you’re not the only member of this band, either! You can’t just go ahead and decide you’ll take care of everything all the time without saying a thing to anyone else! Why should fixing that stuff be all up to you? Why do you get to decide?”
Her voice was trembling by the end of it, echoing across the platform. Mobei Jun glanced across the empty train tracks. She could hear their train approaching in the distance.
“Linguang Jun knows you’ve been staying at the house.”
“So?” Luo Binghe retorted immediately, but then, in a fractionally smaller voice: “What’s she going to do about it?”
“Nothing, most likely. She probably just wanted to hold it over my head and see how I’d react. She was only waiting to get me alone.”
It wasn’t the answer Luo Binghe had been expecting. She was still searching for a response when their train rattled to the platform. Mobei Jun reached out to push Luo Binghe’s outstretched hand down with her own.
“Let’s go home. We still have homework to finish for tomorrow.”
Luo Binghe’s mouth tightened, and she looked like she might put up some resistance for a moment, but she dropped her hand as the doors opened. She didn’t look happy, but she wasn’t sparking with anger anymore, either. Mobei Jun was used to the cycle of Luo Binghe sulking by now, and didn’t mind when Luo Binghe went directly to her room once they arrived at Mobei Jun’s house, content in the knowledge that Linguang Jun generally kept away from this wing of the house and that Luo Binghe would pass through the kitchen on her way and make herself something to eat. Mobei Jun would be able to focus on her homework for the rest of the night.
And when she had finished her homework, she had her new personal assignment: finding out what Linguang Jun was really up to. Mobei Jun knew there had to be a bigger play here, and if she dove deep enough, she was sure to uncover something.
Her phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from Meiyin.
Mobei Jun didn’t particularly want to lie to her friends. But she couldn’t tell the truth—she had told Shang Qinghua she wouldn’t, and much more importantly, it would only make them worry. There wasn’t really anything the rest of the band could do about it—Mobei Jun still wasn’t sure what she could do about it—and Luo Binghe would inevitably become fixated on it. They needed to be able to focus on their music; at least Luo Binghe’s current obsession was keeping her on that track. Mobei Jun was still doing her research anyway.
She woke up in the dark, still at her desk. She’d fallen asleep at her laptop, something she hadn’t done since she was in middle school—she must have stayed up too late working on her extracurricular research. It was a little past 1am. Well, she hadn’t slept too long, then.
She finally shed her school uniform in favor of pajamas, neatly hanging her cardigan over the back of her chair, and slipped on her house shoes. She could have simply gone to the master bathroom for a glass of water, but her legs and back were stiff from having been glued in her chair for hours. She elected for the longer walk to the kitchen instead.
Mobei Jun lingered in the kitchen with her glass of ice water in the open silence. She had plenty of quiet in her bedroom, of course, and it wasn’t cramped by any means, but it was still closed off. In here, the silence sprawled comfortably. No shadows of clicking footsteps intruded. Mobei Jun let out one long, slow breath.
Only a few more years before she was legally an adult. Linguang Jun would never intrude on her silence again after that.
She finished her glass of water, refilled it, and walked back to her room. She paused halfway at a junction of darkened corridors, lit only faintly by softly glowing nightlights at fixed intervals, like fireflies arranged on the wall in a perfectly spaced parade. She could hear faint noises coming from the direction of Luo Binghe’s room, just down that hallway. She stood there for a long moment, glass of water in hand, before she turned and walked towards Luo Binghe’s room.
Her house shoes were soundless on the carpet, and as she approached, she could make out the acoustic scratchings of Luo Binghe’s electric guitar. That in itself wasn’t unusual. She always kept her guitar at Mobei Jun’s house—she had never said anything on the subject, but Mobei Jun suspected she was worried something might happen to it at the group home. As she drew nearer, she could hear Luo Binghe, too, muttering to herself through tears and hiccuping sobs.
Mobei Jun stood outside her door for a few long moments, just listening, as the condensation on her glass seeped through her fingers. She knocked once before opening the door.
“Binghe,” she said quietly. Luo Binghe, hunched over on the floor by the bed, jerked with a start and hurriedly wiped her eyes on her sleeve before turning to face Mobei Jun. It didn’t do her any good; her eyes were still red-rimmed, her cheeks sticky with half-dried tears.
Luo Binghe looked away almost immediately, her expression shuttering with the tiniest of sniffles. She picked up her notebook from the floor, staring down at it instead of Mobei Jun.
“Up kind of late, aren’t you?”
“It seems I’m not the only one.” Mobei Jun stayed patiently by the door. “Working on the new song?”
“Well, I have to get it in where I can,” Luo Binghe muttered darkly. “Seeing as you guys have been rehearsing without me.”
Mobei Jun frowned, set the glass of water down at the side table by the door, and crossed her arms. “We’re not excluding you. I told you, it’s so we can focus on refining the music while you work on the lyrics.”
“Or maybe it’s because you guys are working on your own song.” It came out hushed, almost a growl. “Maybe you’re just trying to keep me out of the way so I don’t find out.”
Mobei Jun’s brows drew down. “We’re doing no such thing.”
“You said we should write it together,” Luo Binghe said, her voice rising, and in an instant she was on her feet, one foot braced on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flashed in the dim light. “That that’s how we would show our growth as a band. But we’re not writing it together! There’s nothing together about it! So what kind of growth are you trying to show, anyway? Is it just that you’re outgrowing me?” She threw her notebook down onto the bed in frustration. “Is it that you don’t need me anymore?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mobei Jun moved into the room in two, measured steps. “We’re doing this for you.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel like it!” Luo Binghe’s hands curled tightly into fists, white at the knuckles. “It feels like you’re trying to get me out of the way so you can pass me right by. Like I’m going to get stuck watching you all walk away.”
“You were right about one thing,” Mobei Jun said. She reached out to pick up the notebook from the bed. Luo Binghe’s breath stopped. “And so was I. I’m not the only member of this band, and neither are you. We’re all part of this band. We wouldn’t be Proud Immortal Demon Way without you. Don’t mistake devotion for desertion. We won’t leave you behind.”
“But how do I know?” Luo Binghe’s voice cracked in anguish. There were tears standing in her eyes, ones she couldn’t hide. They made her eyes gleam all the brighter in the darkened room. “How do I know you won’t?”
“You just have to trust us.” Mobei Jun said. She held out the notebook to Luo Binghe like an olive branch. “You should get some sleep. We’ll need you at rehearsal tomorrow.”
Luo Binghe took the notebook after a moment, casting a diffident look at Mobei Jun before nodding slowly. It didn’t seem as though Mobei Jun had completely assuaged her uncertainty, but perhaps she’d settle down now that they’d talked about it. Mobei Jun closed the door behind her when she left, leaving the glass of water behind.
“Will you read my love line, Meiyin-senpai? Please? I need to know today’s horoscope was wrong!”
Himari all but begged Meiyin, who was carefully applying a coat of varnish to her nails. Meiyin laughed.
“If you don’t believe in horoscopes, then why do you read them?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe in them,” Himari said earnestly. “It’s just that I think this new columnist doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and she totally has the wrong idea about Scorpios! Especially when it comes to romance!”
“So why come to me?” Meiyin’s mouth quirked into a smile. “If you don’t like what you hear, won’t you just decide I don’t know what I’m talking about, either?”
“Of course not!” Himari grinned. “Everyone knows your fortunes always come true. That’s why I’ve been telling the band they totally need to come with me sometime! Don’t you think it’d be neat to have our fortunes told right before a concert?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You all seem pretty confident.” Meiyin finished the last nail on Himari’s hand and gently set it down. “What if something I said made you all nervous about the show? Some prophecies are self-fulfilling. Sometimes knowing the future only gets in the way of it happening.”
She capped the bottle with a thoughtful look, though, smiling to herself. “But I wonder if Ran would let me read her love line.”
“Whaaat?” Himari’s voice wound into a wail. “Ran’s?! Meiyin-senpai, what about me?”
Meiyin carefully turned over Himari’s hand and traced a finger over her palm. She raised an eyebrow. “You know, your love line doesn’t change in just a couple of months.”
“Meiyin-senpai, are you teasing me?”
With another laugh, Meiyin released her hand. “Not at all. All I’m saying is that my reading now isn’t any different than the last time. You’re sure you haven’t met anyone by that description?”
“Tall and handsome but with a soft side, a warm smile and a fearless, outgoing demeanor, with a zest for life and a voice that carries…” Himari threw back her head in despair. “No, I haven’t met any boys like that at all! Can’t you give me a little more to go off? Like, say, hair color?”
Meiyin gave her a mysterious little smile. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Besides, when did I ever say anything about a boy?”
Himari blinked. “Huh?”
The bell chimed as the door swung open. Luo Binghe strode in, full of purpose, and made a beeline for Meiyin.
“Binghe,” Meiyin said, surprised. “We don’t have practice today, do we? My little sister asked to use the basement tonight for a séance and I already told her she could…”
“No, I—” Luo Binghe glanced at Himari and her expression shuttered. “…Just have a favor to ask.”
“Ooh, are you going to ask Meiyin-senpai to tell your fortune too?” Himari clapped her hands. “She’s really good! But I bet you know that, she probably does that stuff for you all the time!”
Luo Binghe’s expression didn’t change, but her ears went a little red. “Not all the time.”
Meiyin captured Himari’s hands and nudged her towards the UV lamp. “Let those dry before you smudge them. Binghe, why don’t you sit down? I’ll bring some tea out.”
Luo Binghe didn’t object, just took the seat next to Himari. They had really only met those two times, Afterglow’s audition and the subsequent live show, and neither had really been social experiences between the two bands, except between Himari and Meiyin. They’d clearly been neighborhood friends for some time. Judging by the way Himari waved and called out as one of Meiyin’s sisters passed, she was probably friends with the whole clan. It was jarring, realizing that Meiyin had a neighborhood friend who passed through here all the time, and Luo Binghe hadn’t known a thing about her before Afterglow showed up for that audition.
“It’s Luo Binghe, right? The singer?”
Luo Binghe looked up. Just a second ago Himari had been chatting with Meiyin’s sister, but now her attention was on Luo Binghe, who just nodded. Himari beamed. She seemed to be immune to the intimidating aura that put most people off.
“It’s so nice to see you again! It’s too bad we didn’t really get to hang out much after the show, right? We should all try and get together sometime for karaoke or something, you know, like a double band date!”
Luo Binghe, who thought that might be the perfect opportunity to corner Ran and interrogate her about her wardrobe, nodded thoughtfully.
“If we can all get our schedules to align,” Meiyin said as she emerged with a tray, “I think that would be a time. I’d love to get to know your band better, Himari. I think Sha Hualing and Six Balls have a favorite spot they could recommend. Your nails will be done in a few minutes, Himari, so don’t wiggle them around.”
In a slightly rueful tone, Himari said to Luo Binghe, “Since I play the bass, I can’t get real manicures, they’d get messed up pretty much right away, but Meiyin-senpai has this great strengthening polish! Ran and Moca never seem to have any trouble, but my nails break at the drop of a hat. I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve it.” She sighed. “You play guitar too, right? Don’t you just hate it when you break a nail playing?”
“It’s never happened,” Luo Binghe said distantly. “I play with a pick.”
“Ahh, you’re so lucky! I tried playing with a pick at first, but it just doesn’t sound right.”
Meiyin smiled as she poured tea. “Our Mobei Jun says the same thing, but she won’t let me do a thing about her calluses.”
“Maybe that’s her secret! I was really impressed by her performance. She was just so cool onstage! Do you think she’d have any tips to offer me?”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Ahaha…that’s the thing, she’s kinda scary, so I was hoping you could ask her for me…? Hey, how did you guys form a band, anyway? I never got around to asking.” Himari glanced between the both of them. “You all go to different schools, right?”
“Well, Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe both go to the same school, and Sha Hualing and Six Balls are classmates, but for the most part, yes.” Meiyin piled a few rice cakes on a small plate and pushed it and the tea toward Luo Binghe, who received it without complaint. “We met because we all practiced at the Mile High Club. Actually, now that I think about it, it was the current owner who was responsible for introducing all of us.”
Luo Binghe’s mouth flattened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, just sipped her tea. Himari, unable to clap her hands, wiggled in her seat.
“No way! Meeting at a live house…that’s so cool! So you all played instruments before, then?”
“Mm. I think I was the newest to it, come to think of it. I’m not sure when Mobei Jun picked up the bass, but I know Sha Hualing and Six Balls have been doing their jam sessions for a while now. Luo Binghe, when did you start playing the guitar?”
Luo Binghe’s eyes flicked downwards. “Middle school. Second year.”
“Hey, that’s when I started playing, too!” Himari said brightly. “Most of us did, actually. That was when we formed Afterglow!”
“Goodness, it really was that long ago, wasn’t it? No wonder you all play like such pros.”
Himari puffed up a little with pride. “Well, we’ve worked pretty hard for it! But at the start, it wasn’t about getting good. We just wanted a way to stick together.”
Luo Binghe, who had pulled out her phone to check Peerless Cucumber’s blog in apparent disinterest, looked over. “Stick together?”
“Yeah! Well, we’d always been in the same class ever since elementary school, but in our second year of middle school, Ran got placed in a different class from the rest of us. We were all really sad, but it was extra hard on her, she even started skipping classes, and wouldn’t even tell us what was going on at first…”
Luo Binghe looked away, staring down at her phone again instead. If Himari noticed, she didn’t show it.
“But Ran’s never been good at just saying how she feels, you know? She always has to write it instead. She really has to work up to talking to us about her feelings. And being in different classes, it got harder and harder for us to spend time together the way we used to…I think she started to feel like she was really cut off from us. That’s when Tsugu said we should start a band.” Himari pulled her hands away from the UV lamp, examining her glossy nails. “Tsugu used to play piano and Tomoe’s always done taiko drumming, and Ran had her poetry, but…other than that, we didn’t really know anything about making music. We just decided that’s what we’d do, and we’d figure it out along the way. And you know what? We totally did! Obviously we like making music or we wouldn’t still be doing it, but…the reason we love music is because it’s what keeps us together.”
Luo Binghe’s hand was tight around her phone. She didn’t say anything, but her breathing had gone slightly shallow. Himari’s phone buzzed on the table, and she picked it up carefully.
“Aah, I’m so sorry, I’ve gotta run! I’m supposed to meet Tsugu at the station, umm, five minutes ago!” She got to her feet and swept up her bag, waving over her shoulder. “Thanks again, Meiyin-senpai!”
The bell chimed as the door swung closed after her. Meiyin stood up, collected the tray, and inclined her head towards Luo Binghe.
“Why don’t we go upstairs? Then we can talk about whatever you like.”
Luo Binghe followed her up the stairs in silence, but as soon as they were in Meiyin’s room, she said, “I want you to tell my fortune.”
Meiyin set the tray down on her desk while Luo Binghe sat at the edge of her bed. “Let me guess. You want me to read your love line, too? I’ll tell you the same thing I told Himari: it’s going to be the same thing as last time. Honestly, you girls…”
Luo Binghe thrust out a hand as soon as Meiyin turned around and, registering Luo Binghe’s unnerving look of intent, started slightly. Certainly she had seemed uneasy while Himari was in carefree storytelling mode, but this expression…
“I don’t want you to read my love line.” Something desperate flickered in her eyes, and Meiyin took Luo Binghe’s hand in hers. Luo Binghe closed her other hand around one of Meiyin’s wrists. “I just want to know one thing.”
“Let go, Binghe,” she said, pulling away. Luo Binghe let go at once and sucked in a breath, as though waiting for some backlash to follow. Instead, Meiyin took her hand once again, but her eyes were focused on Luo Binghe’s face, soft with concern. “What is it?”
Luo Binghe’s gaze faltered and dropped. “I just want to know…if I’ll end up alone.”
Meiyin’s lips parted, and she let out a sigh. “Oh, Binghe. You don’t need me to tell your fortune for that.” She curled her hands around Luo Binghe’s outstretched one. “What’s this about? Did you and Mobei Jun have a fight?”
Luo Binghe bit the inside of her cheek, staring at their hands. “There’s something up with her that she’s not telling me about. I know there is. And I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell me. And…”
The words caught in her throat. They were somehow harder to say to Meiyin.
“And you’ve all been practicing without me, and spending all this time without me. Mobei Jun only bails on us when I’m there, doesn’t she?”
Meiyin’s brow creased. “Binghe, that’s not true. It’s just one extra rehearsal a week, and—I don’t know what’s going on with Mobei Jun either, but no one is avoiding you. We’re just—”
“Working on our new song, right,” Luo Binghe said bitterly, and she couldn’t stop the words now, tumbling out in between short breaths. “Can we even call it our song anymore? You don’t even need me to write the music.”
Meiyin stroked her thumb over the back of Luo Binghe’s hand. “Of course it’s our song. Binghe, we aren’t going anywhere. You’re not going to end up alone.”
“That’s what Mobei Jun said. I don’t think you’re lying to me. I don’t think she was lying to me, either. So—so why does it feel like everyone’s pulling away?” Luo Binghe pulled her hand out of Meiyin’s grip, pressing both hands to her temples. “Why does it feel so much like I’m the only one left out?”
There were tears standing in her eyes now. To someone else, it might have seemed like Luo Binghe was just being dramatic, but to Meiyin, Luo Binghe was a complicated person who struggled to make sense of the world around her. She was only hurting, that was all.
“You just have to trust us,” Meiyin said, but she’d barely finished speaking when Luo Binghe let out a sound half scoff, half sob.
“Mobei Jun said that, too. But how do I do that? How do I trust anyone when I can’t ever tell what anyone is thinking?” Luo Binghe’s shoulders hunched, and she spoke through her teeth, through tears. “That Himari…she said that when their friend stopped being able to communicate with them, it was hard for all of them…it changed things. But we don’t have that problem, do we? Nothing changes when we stop talking to each other, does it?”
Something in Meiyin’s heart wrenched. She moved in closer to Luo Binghe, an arm going around her shoulders. Luo Binghe rambled on even as Meiyin cupped a hand around her head and titled it against her shoulder.
“I know that we decided to form Proud Immortal Demon Way because we all wanted a place we could escape to, away from the rest of our lives. It was nice that we didn’t have to talk about the things we didn’t want to talk about, that we never tried to force each other to. But…don’t you think we overdid it? We don’t even know important things about each other like when we started playing our instruments or why…”
Fat, messy tears were dripping down Luo Binghe’s face, but Meiyin held her shoulders steady. Luo Binghe curled her hands in her lap, her nails biting into her palms.
“It’s not like I don’t have things I really don’t want to talk to anyone else about. Of course I do. But the fact that no one ever asks at all…”
She descended into hiccuped sobs, and Meiyin held her tight.
“I’m sorry you feel so alone,” she said gently. “And I think you’re right. At first, I found that distance comforting, but…it’s a little bit too much of a gap, isn’t it? Of course we have fun when we’re together, and we all really love our music, but…”
Luo Binghe wiped her face on her sleeve, but tears filled her eyes again almost immediately. She couldn’t seem to stop them coming.
“Himari said that Afterglow became a band to protect their friendship, but what are we protecting?”
She finally looked up and met Meiyin’s eyes for the first time, and there was no anger on her face, only plain fear.
“What if music is the only thing keeping us together? What if we don’t mean anything to each other without our music?”
Meiyin bit her lip, and for a moment all she could do was pull Luo Binghe into a tight hug. Luo Binghe didn’t resist or try to writhe away, only pressed her forehead to Meiyin’s shoulder with a muffled cry. Meiyin patted the back of her head, combing her fingers through Luo Binghe’s tangled ponytail.
“I can’t speak for anyone else,” she said softly, “and I don’t know what’s going on with Mobei Jun, either. But you don’t have to worry about the two of us. Maybe we came together because of music, but even if Proud Immortal Demon Way broke up tomorrow, you and I would still be friends. You mean so much more to me than just our music, Binghe. You all do.”
Luo Binghe was still crying, still struggling, but she had her arms around Meiyin’s waist in a grip so tight that it almost made it hard to breathe. Meiyin closed her eyes.
“I think it’s time we started opening up to each other more. It might be uncomfortable sometimes, even painful, but…that’s a mark of growth too. Going on like this, hardly knowing anything about each other even after all these months…that’s really no way to carry ourselves as a band, is it?”
Luo Binghe sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut. Her tears were staining through Meiyin’s blouse.
“It’s not,” she said, her voice muffled against Meiyin’s shoulder. “But I don’t know how to make Mobei Jun understand that. She doesn’t think there’s a problem. Neither do the others. I’m…” She hesitated, unable to bear the bitter taste of the word. “I’m afraid if I try to make her, she’ll just leave.”
“I don’t think she’ll leave so easily. She’s almost as stubborn as you, you know.” Meiyin smiled faintly. “But she’s difficult to read. And Sha Hualing and Six Balls…they’ve known each other longer than any of us. They have their own little world between them. But I don’t think they’d leave just like that, either. There might be a little distance between us, but they’re still our friends.”
Meiyin pulled back a little and dabbed gently at the corners of Luo Binghe’s eyes with her sleeve. Luo Binghe’s gazed dropped, her cheeks red, but Meiyin only smoothed her hair away from her face.
“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. “We’ll find a way to talk to them. It will be alright, Binghe. No one is going to end up alone.” She glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a small hum. “But for now, why don’t you stay here tonight? You know my mother won’t mind. She loves it when we have extra company, no matter what my school says about sleepovers. You can borrow some pajamas—mine might be a little short on you, but I know one of my sisters has something that will fit.”
Her only other options were going back to Mobei Jun’s or the group home. Both felt too lonely to bear right now. Luo Binghe nodded, letting Meiyin prop her back up to a sitting position, and accepted the lace-edged handkerchief held out to her.
“Let’s take it one step at a time. We’ll get through this weekend’s show, and then we’ll find a way to work things out. Mobei Jun might not want to share everything still, but she’ll at least know she can.” Meiyin picked up a brush off her dresser and patted the back of Luo Binghe’s head. “But for now, why don’t you let me brush out these tangles before you go to sleep? And if you like, I can give you a coat of that nail-strengthening polish Himari’s wearing.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Luo Binghe said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Meiyin’s warmth was comforting, but sometimes she was so giving that Luo Binghe didn’t quite know how to take it all in. “Just letting me sleep here is fine…”
“Ah, but this is how I relax,” Meiyin said, smiling, and she was already loosening Luo Binghe’s hair tie. “So you’d be the one doing me a favor. Besides, how often do we spend time together, just the two of us? Let’s make the most of it.”
End notes: that paragraph of poppin'party trope meta from chapter 9 turned out to be accidental foreshadowing. welcome to the realm of bang dream band drama
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: Mobei Jun seems preoccupied, and the whole band is feeling the tension—but the one who really feels singled out is Luo Binghe.
Notes: PIDW band special chapter ✨ time for luo binghe's friendship arc!
End notes
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Mobei Jun was even more silent than usual during dinner, seeming to be distracted by her phone for most of the evening. If she noticed that Sha Hualing had her order swapped out for something completely different, she didn’t show it. Her face was as expressive as a stone wall as usual, but there was something extra distant about it lately, especially tonight. Six Balls and Luo Binghe both tried to draw her into the conversation—there was a movie Meiyin was suggesting they all go see together, since they hardly ever hung out aside from band business—but Mobei Jun only briefly acknowledged the attempts before falling back into distraction with her phone again. After a few attempts, Luo Binghe gave up in a huff and decided to ignore her in retaliation, even half-turning away from her as Meiyin listed off the premise for a romantic dramedy to a Sha Hualing who was pretending to look disinterested, but perked up as soon as Meiyin mentioned the anime series it was a tie-in for.
Six Balls, dauntless, frowned a little and prodded Mobei Jun’s leg with the toe of her sneaker. Mobei Jun didn’t react at all, her brow slightly furrowed as she scrolled through her phone. It was true that Six Balls would never press Mobei Jun to talk about anything she really didn’t want to share, but…she was really distracted lately. And that lady, Linguang Jun—definitely a relative, but definitely not Mobei Jun’s mom. She never talked about her parents. Maybe she didn’t have any. Maybe Linguang Jun was her legal guardian? Linguang Jun really seemed like the bossy type. Whatever their relationship was, they obviously didn’t get along.
Yeah, yeah, she wouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t stop her imagination from wondering. Six Balls had never given deep thought to Mobei Jun’s home life, but having been inside that huge, empty house with its fancy toilets and unnecessary number of staircases, she was getting really curious. That, and…Mobei Jun didn’t seem the happy kind of distracted. If Mobei Jun was struggling with something, even if she couldn’t or didn’t want to talk about it, the band would still be there for her to lean on. She had to know that. But she always just took care of stuff without talking to them about it—the studio reservations and paying for them too, covering dinner, going after Luo Binghe whenever her mood swung like a pendulum…Six Balls was pretty sure Mobei Jun had also bought Luo Binghe a new guitar after she’d broken her last one. Mobei Jun always acted like an adult, even when they were playing onstage.
In the end, Six Balls didn’t know what to say, so she just stuffed a pack of Hi-Chews into Mobei Jun’s bag on their way out of Hell’s Bells. Mobei Jun acknowledged it with a nod, and she and Luo Binghe parted from the rest of the group to head in the opposite direction.
If Luo Binghe had wanted to go back to the group home, she would’ve done so without saying anything; she only walked to the station with Mobei Jun if she planned on staying at her borrowed room. She didn’t have to ask. Mobei Jun left it a standing offer for that reason. She wouldn’t pretend she could imagine what it was like for Luo Binghe to grow up the way she did, but she certainly wasn’t going to make it any more humiliating for her.
But Luo Binghe still seemed to be in a mood after dinner and didn’t speak at all on the walk to the station. She sneaked furtive sidelong glances whenever she thought Mobei Jun wasn’t paying attention, waiting for the silence to break. Mobei Jun was perfectly comfortable with silence, and at any rate, she was only ankle-deep in research and still wading deeper.
The train platform was empty, blocks of late afternoon sunlight burning brightly on the concrete. Mobei Jun stood in the shade to avoid the glare, but Luo Binghe stood in the sun, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The only sounds that passed on the wind were the distant rattling of trains and the chattering of birds overhead.
At first, Luo Binghe stared resolutely straight ahead, her brow furrowed and her expression dark. But finally she turned her towards Mobei Jun and burst out, “What aren’t you telling me?”
Mobei Jun looked up. Luo Binghe’s face seemed to glow in the setting sunlight, though her expression was dark, her eyes burning. Mobei Jun tilted her head slightly, her pale hair falling over her shoulder.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re keeping something from us. I know it. I can tell.” Luo Binghe started to take a step towards her, but rocked back on her heels, narrowing her eyes instead. “What did Linguang Jun say to you after we left?”
Mobei Jun was silent for a moment. She glanced down at her phone, then pocketed it. “I’ve never pried into your life, Binghe.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widened as though she had been slapped.
“It has to do with the band, doesn’t it?”
When Mobei Jun didn’t answer immediately, Luo Binghe pointed accusingly at her.
“That’s not fair! Who was it who told me you’re not the only member of this band? Well, you’re not the only member of this band, either! You can’t just go ahead and decide you’ll take care of everything all the time without saying a thing to anyone else! Why should fixing that stuff be all up to you? Why do you get to decide?”
Her voice was trembling by the end of it, echoing across the platform. Mobei Jun glanced across the empty train tracks. She could hear their train approaching in the distance.
“Linguang Jun knows you’ve been staying at the house.”
“So?” Luo Binghe retorted immediately, but then, in a fractionally smaller voice: “What’s she going to do about it?”
“Nothing, most likely. She probably just wanted to hold it over my head and see how I’d react. She was only waiting to get me alone.”
It wasn’t the answer Luo Binghe had been expecting. She was still searching for a response when their train rattled to the platform. Mobei Jun reached out to push Luo Binghe’s outstretched hand down with her own.
“Let’s go home. We still have homework to finish for tomorrow.”
Luo Binghe’s mouth tightened, and she looked like she might put up some resistance for a moment, but she dropped her hand as the doors opened. She didn’t look happy, but she wasn’t sparking with anger anymore, either. Mobei Jun was used to the cycle of Luo Binghe sulking by now, and didn’t mind when Luo Binghe went directly to her room once they arrived at Mobei Jun’s house, content in the knowledge that Linguang Jun generally kept away from this wing of the house and that Luo Binghe would pass through the kitchen on her way and make herself something to eat. Mobei Jun would be able to focus on her homework for the rest of the night.
And when she had finished her homework, she had her new personal assignment: finding out what Linguang Jun was really up to. Mobei Jun knew there had to be a bigger play here, and if she dove deep enough, she was sure to uncover something.
Her phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from Meiyin.
Mobei Jun didn’t particularly want to lie to her friends. But she couldn’t tell the truth—she had told Shang Qinghua she wouldn’t, and much more importantly, it would only make them worry. There wasn’t really anything the rest of the band could do about it—Mobei Jun still wasn’t sure what she could do about it—and Luo Binghe would inevitably become fixated on it. They needed to be able to focus on their music; at least Luo Binghe’s current obsession was keeping her on that track. Mobei Jun was still doing her research anyway.
She woke up in the dark, still at her desk. She’d fallen asleep at her laptop, something she hadn’t done since she was in middle school—she must have stayed up too late working on her extracurricular research. It was a little past 1am. Well, she hadn’t slept too long, then.
She finally shed her school uniform in favor of pajamas, neatly hanging her cardigan over the back of her chair, and slipped on her house shoes. She could have simply gone to the master bathroom for a glass of water, but her legs and back were stiff from having been glued in her chair for hours. She elected for the longer walk to the kitchen instead.
Mobei Jun lingered in the kitchen with her glass of ice water in the open silence. She had plenty of quiet in her bedroom, of course, and it wasn’t cramped by any means, but it was still closed off. In here, the silence sprawled comfortably. No shadows of clicking footsteps intruded. Mobei Jun let out one long, slow breath.
Only a few more years before she was legally an adult. Linguang Jun would never intrude on her silence again after that.
She finished her glass of water, refilled it, and walked back to her room. She paused halfway at a junction of darkened corridors, lit only faintly by softly glowing nightlights at fixed intervals, like fireflies arranged on the wall in a perfectly spaced parade. She could hear faint noises coming from the direction of Luo Binghe’s room, just down that hallway. She stood there for a long moment, glass of water in hand, before she turned and walked towards Luo Binghe’s room.
Her house shoes were soundless on the carpet, and as she approached, she could make out the acoustic scratchings of Luo Binghe’s electric guitar. That in itself wasn’t unusual. She always kept her guitar at Mobei Jun’s house—she had never said anything on the subject, but Mobei Jun suspected she was worried something might happen to it at the group home. As she drew nearer, she could hear Luo Binghe, too, muttering to herself through tears and hiccuping sobs.
Mobei Jun stood outside her door for a few long moments, just listening, as the condensation on her glass seeped through her fingers. She knocked once before opening the door.
“Binghe,” she said quietly. Luo Binghe, hunched over on the floor by the bed, jerked with a start and hurriedly wiped her eyes on her sleeve before turning to face Mobei Jun. It didn’t do her any good; her eyes were still red-rimmed, her cheeks sticky with half-dried tears.
Luo Binghe looked away almost immediately, her expression shuttering with the tiniest of sniffles. She picked up her notebook from the floor, staring down at it instead of Mobei Jun.
“Up kind of late, aren’t you?”
“It seems I’m not the only one.” Mobei Jun stayed patiently by the door. “Working on the new song?”
“Well, I have to get it in where I can,” Luo Binghe muttered darkly. “Seeing as you guys have been rehearsing without me.”
Mobei Jun frowned, set the glass of water down at the side table by the door, and crossed her arms. “We’re not excluding you. I told you, it’s so we can focus on refining the music while you work on the lyrics.”
“Or maybe it’s because you guys are working on your own song.” It came out hushed, almost a growl. “Maybe you’re just trying to keep me out of the way so I don’t find out.”
Mobei Jun’s brows drew down. “We’re doing no such thing.”
“You said we should write it together,” Luo Binghe said, her voice rising, and in an instant she was on her feet, one foot braced on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flashed in the dim light. “That that’s how we would show our growth as a band. But we’re not writing it together! There’s nothing together about it! So what kind of growth are you trying to show, anyway? Is it just that you’re outgrowing me?” She threw her notebook down onto the bed in frustration. “Is it that you don’t need me anymore?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mobei Jun moved into the room in two, measured steps. “We’re doing this for you.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel like it!” Luo Binghe’s hands curled tightly into fists, white at the knuckles. “It feels like you’re trying to get me out of the way so you can pass me right by. Like I’m going to get stuck watching you all walk away.”
“You were right about one thing,” Mobei Jun said. She reached out to pick up the notebook from the bed. Luo Binghe’s breath stopped. “And so was I. I’m not the only member of this band, and neither are you. We’re all part of this band. We wouldn’t be Proud Immortal Demon Way without you. Don’t mistake devotion for desertion. We won’t leave you behind.”
“But how do I know?” Luo Binghe’s voice cracked in anguish. There were tears standing in her eyes, ones she couldn’t hide. They made her eyes gleam all the brighter in the darkened room. “How do I know you won’t?”
“You just have to trust us.” Mobei Jun said. She held out the notebook to Luo Binghe like an olive branch. “You should get some sleep. We’ll need you at rehearsal tomorrow.”
Luo Binghe took the notebook after a moment, casting a diffident look at Mobei Jun before nodding slowly. It didn’t seem as though Mobei Jun had completely assuaged her uncertainty, but perhaps she’d settle down now that they’d talked about it. Mobei Jun closed the door behind her when she left, leaving the glass of water behind.
“Will you read my love line, Meiyin-senpai? Please? I need to know today’s horoscope was wrong!”
Himari all but begged Meiyin, who was carefully applying a coat of varnish to her nails. Meiyin laughed.
“If you don’t believe in horoscopes, then why do you read them?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe in them,” Himari said earnestly. “It’s just that I think this new columnist doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and she totally has the wrong idea about Scorpios! Especially when it comes to romance!”
“So why come to me?” Meiyin’s mouth quirked into a smile. “If you don’t like what you hear, won’t you just decide I don’t know what I’m talking about, either?”
“Of course not!” Himari grinned. “Everyone knows your fortunes always come true. That’s why I’ve been telling the band they totally need to come with me sometime! Don’t you think it’d be neat to have our fortunes told right before a concert?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You all seem pretty confident.” Meiyin finished the last nail on Himari’s hand and gently set it down. “What if something I said made you all nervous about the show? Some prophecies are self-fulfilling. Sometimes knowing the future only gets in the way of it happening.”
She capped the bottle with a thoughtful look, though, smiling to herself. “But I wonder if Ran would let me read her love line.”
“Whaaat?” Himari’s voice wound into a wail. “Ran’s?! Meiyin-senpai, what about me?”
Meiyin carefully turned over Himari’s hand and traced a finger over her palm. She raised an eyebrow. “You know, your love line doesn’t change in just a couple of months.”
“Meiyin-senpai, are you teasing me?”
With another laugh, Meiyin released her hand. “Not at all. All I’m saying is that my reading now isn’t any different than the last time. You’re sure you haven’t met anyone by that description?”
“Tall and handsome but with a soft side, a warm smile and a fearless, outgoing demeanor, with a zest for life and a voice that carries…” Himari threw back her head in despair. “No, I haven’t met any boys like that at all! Can’t you give me a little more to go off? Like, say, hair color?”
Meiyin gave her a mysterious little smile. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Besides, when did I ever say anything about a boy?”
Himari blinked. “Huh?”
The bell chimed as the door swung open. Luo Binghe strode in, full of purpose, and made a beeline for Meiyin.
“Binghe,” Meiyin said, surprised. “We don’t have practice today, do we? My little sister asked to use the basement tonight for a séance and I already told her she could…”
“No, I—” Luo Binghe glanced at Himari and her expression shuttered. “…Just have a favor to ask.”
“Ooh, are you going to ask Meiyin-senpai to tell your fortune too?” Himari clapped her hands. “She’s really good! But I bet you know that, she probably does that stuff for you all the time!”
Luo Binghe’s expression didn’t change, but her ears went a little red. “Not all the time.”
Meiyin captured Himari’s hands and nudged her towards the UV lamp. “Let those dry before you smudge them. Binghe, why don’t you sit down? I’ll bring some tea out.”
Luo Binghe didn’t object, just took the seat next to Himari. They had really only met those two times, Afterglow’s audition and the subsequent live show, and neither had really been social experiences between the two bands, except between Himari and Meiyin. They’d clearly been neighborhood friends for some time. Judging by the way Himari waved and called out as one of Meiyin’s sisters passed, she was probably friends with the whole clan. It was jarring, realizing that Meiyin had a neighborhood friend who passed through here all the time, and Luo Binghe hadn’t known a thing about her before Afterglow showed up for that audition.
“It’s Luo Binghe, right? The singer?”
Luo Binghe looked up. Just a second ago Himari had been chatting with Meiyin’s sister, but now her attention was on Luo Binghe, who just nodded. Himari beamed. She seemed to be immune to the intimidating aura that put most people off.
“It’s so nice to see you again! It’s too bad we didn’t really get to hang out much after the show, right? We should all try and get together sometime for karaoke or something, you know, like a double band date!”
Luo Binghe, who thought that might be the perfect opportunity to corner Ran and interrogate her about her wardrobe, nodded thoughtfully.
“If we can all get our schedules to align,” Meiyin said as she emerged with a tray, “I think that would be a time. I’d love to get to know your band better, Himari. I think Sha Hualing and Six Balls have a favorite spot they could recommend. Your nails will be done in a few minutes, Himari, so don’t wiggle them around.”
In a slightly rueful tone, Himari said to Luo Binghe, “Since I play the bass, I can’t get real manicures, they’d get messed up pretty much right away, but Meiyin-senpai has this great strengthening polish! Ran and Moca never seem to have any trouble, but my nails break at the drop of a hat. I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve it.” She sighed. “You play guitar too, right? Don’t you just hate it when you break a nail playing?”
“It’s never happened,” Luo Binghe said distantly. “I play with a pick.”
“Ahh, you’re so lucky! I tried playing with a pick at first, but it just doesn’t sound right.”
Meiyin smiled as she poured tea. “Our Mobei Jun says the same thing, but she won’t let me do a thing about her calluses.”
“Maybe that’s her secret! I was really impressed by her performance. She was just so cool onstage! Do you think she’d have any tips to offer me?”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Ahaha…that’s the thing, she’s kinda scary, so I was hoping you could ask her for me…? Hey, how did you guys form a band, anyway? I never got around to asking.” Himari glanced between the both of them. “You all go to different schools, right?”
“Well, Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe both go to the same school, and Sha Hualing and Six Balls are classmates, but for the most part, yes.” Meiyin piled a few rice cakes on a small plate and pushed it and the tea toward Luo Binghe, who received it without complaint. “We met because we all practiced at the Mile High Club. Actually, now that I think about it, it was the current owner who was responsible for introducing all of us.”
Luo Binghe’s mouth flattened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, just sipped her tea. Himari, unable to clap her hands, wiggled in her seat.
“No way! Meeting at a live house…that’s so cool! So you all played instruments before, then?”
“Mm. I think I was the newest to it, come to think of it. I’m not sure when Mobei Jun picked up the bass, but I know Sha Hualing and Six Balls have been doing their jam sessions for a while now. Luo Binghe, when did you start playing the guitar?”
Luo Binghe’s eyes flicked downwards. “Middle school. Second year.”
“Hey, that’s when I started playing, too!” Himari said brightly. “Most of us did, actually. That was when we formed Afterglow!”
“Goodness, it really was that long ago, wasn’t it? No wonder you all play like such pros.”
Himari puffed up a little with pride. “Well, we’ve worked pretty hard for it! But at the start, it wasn’t about getting good. We just wanted a way to stick together.”
Luo Binghe, who had pulled out her phone to check Peerless Cucumber’s blog in apparent disinterest, looked over. “Stick together?”
“Yeah! Well, we’d always been in the same class ever since elementary school, but in our second year of middle school, Ran got placed in a different class from the rest of us. We were all really sad, but it was extra hard on her, she even started skipping classes, and wouldn’t even tell us what was going on at first…”
Luo Binghe looked away, staring down at her phone again instead. If Himari noticed, she didn’t show it.
“But Ran’s never been good at just saying how she feels, you know? She always has to write it instead. She really has to work up to talking to us about her feelings. And being in different classes, it got harder and harder for us to spend time together the way we used to…I think she started to feel like she was really cut off from us. That’s when Tsugu said we should start a band.” Himari pulled her hands away from the UV lamp, examining her glossy nails. “Tsugu used to play piano and Tomoe’s always done taiko drumming, and Ran had her poetry, but…other than that, we didn’t really know anything about making music. We just decided that’s what we’d do, and we’d figure it out along the way. And you know what? We totally did! Obviously we like making music or we wouldn’t still be doing it, but…the reason we love music is because it’s what keeps us together.”
Luo Binghe’s hand was tight around her phone. She didn’t say anything, but her breathing had gone slightly shallow. Himari’s phone buzzed on the table, and she picked it up carefully.
“Aah, I’m so sorry, I’ve gotta run! I’m supposed to meet Tsugu at the station, umm, five minutes ago!” She got to her feet and swept up her bag, waving over her shoulder. “Thanks again, Meiyin-senpai!”
The bell chimed as the door swung closed after her. Meiyin stood up, collected the tray, and inclined her head towards Luo Binghe.
“Why don’t we go upstairs? Then we can talk about whatever you like.”
Luo Binghe followed her up the stairs in silence, but as soon as they were in Meiyin’s room, she said, “I want you to tell my fortune.”
Meiyin set the tray down on her desk while Luo Binghe sat at the edge of her bed. “Let me guess. You want me to read your love line, too? I’ll tell you the same thing I told Himari: it’s going to be the same thing as last time. Honestly, you girls…”
Luo Binghe thrust out a hand as soon as Meiyin turned around and, registering Luo Binghe’s unnerving look of intent, started slightly. Certainly she had seemed uneasy while Himari was in carefree storytelling mode, but this expression…
“I don’t want you to read my love line.” Something desperate flickered in her eyes, and Meiyin took Luo Binghe’s hand in hers. Luo Binghe closed her other hand around one of Meiyin’s wrists. “I just want to know one thing.”
“Let go, Binghe,” she said, pulling away. Luo Binghe let go at once and sucked in a breath, as though waiting for some backlash to follow. Instead, Meiyin took her hand once again, but her eyes were focused on Luo Binghe’s face, soft with concern. “What is it?”
Luo Binghe’s gaze faltered and dropped. “I just want to know…if I’ll end up alone.”
Meiyin’s lips parted, and she let out a sigh. “Oh, Binghe. You don’t need me to tell your fortune for that.” She curled her hands around Luo Binghe’s outstretched one. “What’s this about? Did you and Mobei Jun have a fight?”
Luo Binghe bit the inside of her cheek, staring at their hands. “There’s something up with her that she’s not telling me about. I know there is. And I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell me. And…”
The words caught in her throat. They were somehow harder to say to Meiyin.
“And you’ve all been practicing without me, and spending all this time without me. Mobei Jun only bails on us when I’m there, doesn’t she?”
Meiyin’s brow creased. “Binghe, that’s not true. It’s just one extra rehearsal a week, and—I don’t know what’s going on with Mobei Jun either, but no one is avoiding you. We’re just—”
“Working on our new song, right,” Luo Binghe said bitterly, and she couldn’t stop the words now, tumbling out in between short breaths. “Can we even call it our song anymore? You don’t even need me to write the music.”
Meiyin stroked her thumb over the back of Luo Binghe’s hand. “Of course it’s our song. Binghe, we aren’t going anywhere. You’re not going to end up alone.”
“That’s what Mobei Jun said. I don’t think you’re lying to me. I don’t think she was lying to me, either. So—so why does it feel like everyone’s pulling away?” Luo Binghe pulled her hand out of Meiyin’s grip, pressing both hands to her temples. “Why does it feel so much like I’m the only one left out?”
There were tears standing in her eyes now. To someone else, it might have seemed like Luo Binghe was just being dramatic, but to Meiyin, Luo Binghe was a complicated person who struggled to make sense of the world around her. She was only hurting, that was all.
“You just have to trust us,” Meiyin said, but she’d barely finished speaking when Luo Binghe let out a sound half scoff, half sob.
“Mobei Jun said that, too. But how do I do that? How do I trust anyone when I can’t ever tell what anyone is thinking?” Luo Binghe’s shoulders hunched, and she spoke through her teeth, through tears. “That Himari…she said that when their friend stopped being able to communicate with them, it was hard for all of them…it changed things. But we don’t have that problem, do we? Nothing changes when we stop talking to each other, does it?”
Something in Meiyin’s heart wrenched. She moved in closer to Luo Binghe, an arm going around her shoulders. Luo Binghe rambled on even as Meiyin cupped a hand around her head and titled it against her shoulder.
“I know that we decided to form Proud Immortal Demon Way because we all wanted a place we could escape to, away from the rest of our lives. It was nice that we didn’t have to talk about the things we didn’t want to talk about, that we never tried to force each other to. But…don’t you think we overdid it? We don’t even know important things about each other like when we started playing our instruments or why…”
Fat, messy tears were dripping down Luo Binghe’s face, but Meiyin held her shoulders steady. Luo Binghe curled her hands in her lap, her nails biting into her palms.
“It’s not like I don’t have things I really don’t want to talk to anyone else about. Of course I do. But the fact that no one ever asks at all…”
She descended into hiccuped sobs, and Meiyin held her tight.
“I’m sorry you feel so alone,” she said gently. “And I think you’re right. At first, I found that distance comforting, but…it’s a little bit too much of a gap, isn’t it? Of course we have fun when we’re together, and we all really love our music, but…”
Luo Binghe wiped her face on her sleeve, but tears filled her eyes again almost immediately. She couldn’t seem to stop them coming.
“Himari said that Afterglow became a band to protect their friendship, but what are we protecting?”
She finally looked up and met Meiyin’s eyes for the first time, and there was no anger on her face, only plain fear.
“What if music is the only thing keeping us together? What if we don’t mean anything to each other without our music?”
Meiyin bit her lip, and for a moment all she could do was pull Luo Binghe into a tight hug. Luo Binghe didn’t resist or try to writhe away, only pressed her forehead to Meiyin’s shoulder with a muffled cry. Meiyin patted the back of her head, combing her fingers through Luo Binghe’s tangled ponytail.
“I can’t speak for anyone else,” she said softly, “and I don’t know what’s going on with Mobei Jun, either. But you don’t have to worry about the two of us. Maybe we came together because of music, but even if Proud Immortal Demon Way broke up tomorrow, you and I would still be friends. You mean so much more to me than just our music, Binghe. You all do.”
Luo Binghe was still crying, still struggling, but she had her arms around Meiyin’s waist in a grip so tight that it almost made it hard to breathe. Meiyin closed her eyes.
“I think it’s time we started opening up to each other more. It might be uncomfortable sometimes, even painful, but…that’s a mark of growth too. Going on like this, hardly knowing anything about each other even after all these months…that’s really no way to carry ourselves as a band, is it?”
Luo Binghe sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut. Her tears were staining through Meiyin’s blouse.
“It’s not,” she said, her voice muffled against Meiyin’s shoulder. “But I don’t know how to make Mobei Jun understand that. She doesn’t think there’s a problem. Neither do the others. I’m…” She hesitated, unable to bear the bitter taste of the word. “I’m afraid if I try to make her, she’ll just leave.”
“I don’t think she’ll leave so easily. She’s almost as stubborn as you, you know.” Meiyin smiled faintly. “But she’s difficult to read. And Sha Hualing and Six Balls…they’ve known each other longer than any of us. They have their own little world between them. But I don’t think they’d leave just like that, either. There might be a little distance between us, but they’re still our friends.”
Meiyin pulled back a little and dabbed gently at the corners of Luo Binghe’s eyes with her sleeve. Luo Binghe’s gazed dropped, her cheeks red, but Meiyin only smoothed her hair away from her face.
“We’ll figure something out,” she promised. “We’ll find a way to talk to them. It will be alright, Binghe. No one is going to end up alone.” She glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a small hum. “But for now, why don’t you stay here tonight? You know my mother won’t mind. She loves it when we have extra company, no matter what my school says about sleepovers. You can borrow some pajamas—mine might be a little short on you, but I know one of my sisters has something that will fit.”
Her only other options were going back to Mobei Jun’s or the group home. Both felt too lonely to bear right now. Luo Binghe nodded, letting Meiyin prop her back up to a sitting position, and accepted the lace-edged handkerchief held out to her.
“Let’s take it one step at a time. We’ll get through this weekend’s show, and then we’ll find a way to work things out. Mobei Jun might not want to share everything still, but she’ll at least know she can.” Meiyin picked up a brush off her dresser and patted the back of Luo Binghe’s head. “But for now, why don’t you let me brush out these tangles before you go to sleep? And if you like, I can give you a coat of that nail-strengthening polish Himari’s wearing.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Luo Binghe said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Meiyin’s warmth was comforting, but sometimes she was so giving that Luo Binghe didn’t quite know how to take it all in. “Just letting me sleep here is fine…”
“Ah, but this is how I relax,” Meiyin said, smiling, and she was already loosening Luo Binghe’s hair tie. “So you’d be the one doing me a favor. Besides, how often do we spend time together, just the two of us? Let’s make the most of it.”
End notes: that paragraph of poppin'party trope meta from chapter 9 turned out to be accidental foreshadowing. welcome to the realm of bang dream band drama