A Different Script

Empty Seat

They were with him.

Ruby spun in her chair to face us, her grin wide. “This was the best show we’ve ever done, right? We’ve really leveled up since the last one. Kana, what do you think?”

Her eyes sparkled, waiting for me to echo her excitement. I forced my lips into something resembling enthusiasm. “Yeah… it was good. Really good.”

But inside, my voice whispered something else: Would it have mattered more if he saw it?

MEM-cho flopped dramatically onto the couch. “I thought the encore was going to kill me, but wow, the fans—did you see how many glowsticks were out there? It felt like the whole place was ours.”

Ruby’s laughter chimed like little bells. The room was alive with warmth, accomplishment, and a bond we’d built together.

And yet, I felt like I was on the other side of a glass wall. Watching. Smiling. Pretending.

I kept seeing that empty space in the crowd. That unoccupied seat. That absence that felt louder than the thousands of fans screaming our names.

Ruby leaned toward me, frowning slightly. “Kana? You okay? You’re kind of quiet.”

I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at nothing. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and forced a small laugh. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Tired. The easy excuse. Easier than saying I was waiting for someone who never came.

Ruby bought it, nodding sympathetically. MEM-cho threw a pillow at me playfully. “Don’t act like you’re the only one! We’re all tired. But come on, Kana—you killed it out there. You should be proud.”

I caught the pillow, hugged it to my chest, and smiled again. “Yeah… proud.”

But the truth was, I felt hollow.

Because no matter how loud the applause, how bright the lights, or how warm my friends’ laughter was…
The only person I wanted to notice me wasn’t there.

---

I slipped out of the shared dressing room the moment Ruby and MEM-cho turned their backs to chatter again. My smile stayed just long enough for them to believe it, but my chest felt heavy, too heavy to keep pretending.

My personal dressing room was quieter, smaller. The buzz of the others died the second I shut the door behind me. Just me, the mirror, and the version of myself I couldn’t hide from.

I dropped into the chair, stared at my reflection. My makeup was perfect, every strand of hair in place—an idol’s mask still clinging to me. But my eyes… my eyes told the truth.

I leaned forward, whispering to the mirror.
“Why didn’t you come, Aqua?”

The words cracked in my throat, fragile, desperate. I said them again, softer.
“You said nothing, but I thought you would. You… you were supposed to be there.”

I lifted my chin, forcing my reflection to meet my gaze. Like I could rehearse the confrontation I’d never have.
“Do you know how stupid I felt? Looking for you in every shadow? Thinking you’d show up, just once, to see me shine?”

The mirror didn’t answer. It only threw my trembling lips and wide eyes back at me.

“Do you even care?” My voice shook. “Because I do. I… I care too much.”

The words almost slipped out then. The ones I’d buried, the ones that pressed against my ribs every time I thought of him.
“Aqua, I—”

The door burst open.

“Kana!” Ruby’s voice cracked, panic bleeding through. MEM-cho was right behind her, eyes wide.

I snapped upright, heart pounding, the unfinished confession still burning on my tongue.

Ruby’s hands fluttered like she didn’t know where to put them. “We—we need you! Something’s wrong—”

Her words blurred, panic filling the air like smoke. My head spun, caught between the almost-confession and the sudden storm my friends dragged in with them.

I wiped at my face quickly, forcing composure back, even though the mirror behind me knew the truth.

I grabbed MEM-cho’s arm, desperate. “What… what’s going on?”

Her eyes were wide, frantic, darting between me and the door. “It’s… it’s Aqua,” she said finally, her voice a little strangled.

I felt the air leave my lungs. My stomach sank, my knees went weak. “Aqua? What—what do you mean? What happened?”

Ruby stepped closer, her hand brushing my arm. “We don’t know everything, but… he’s hurt. Or… or in trouble. They’re trying to get to him, but—”

My mind spun. My hands gripped the edge of the table as if holding on could keep reality from tilting entirely. Hurt? In trouble? Aqua—the one person I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight, the one whose empty seat had haunted me during the show—was now lying in a hospital bed.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” My voice cracked, betraying the panic I tried to keep buried.

MEM-cho shook her head. “We’re trying to find out. Ruby and I… we just got here. Someone told us… it’s serious. Kana, we need you—we… we can’t—”

I stood too quickly, my chair scraping back against the floor. “I’m going with you. Show me. Tell me.”

Ruby grabbed my hand, steadying me. “We don’t know where exactly, but we can go together. We just—please, be careful. It’s… it’s Aqua.”

My throat closed. My mind flashed to the empty seat, the silence in the crowd, the words I almost said. The confession I had been ready to give him moments ago…

And now, the chance to say anything—maybe to even save him—was slipping through my fingers.

I swallowed hard, desperate. “Tell me what happened!”

MEM-cho swallowed, hands twisting nervously. “Someone attacked him… he was thrown into the water and—”

“…Th-thrown? Aqua?” I gasped, chest tightening.

She faltered, and then whispered, “Akane jumped in and—”

“…Akane…” I repeated automatically, the word hanging in the air.

Her eyes widened, a flicker of panic crossing her face. “Kana! There’s no time for that!”

I blinked, heart hammering. “W-what do you mean?”

“She… she saved him. But right now it doesn’t matter. Aqua’s in the hospital. That’s where we need to go—now.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of the word Akane pressing in, but forced myself to nod. “The hospital… okay.”

Ruby grabbed my hand, urgency radiating from her. “Come on. We’ll get there together. He needs us.”

Every step toward the exit was heavy, but my heart pounded faster than ever. The lights of the dressing room, the applause, the lingering smell of hairspray—none of it existed anymore. There was only the hospital, and him.