#dark hasn't been able to get to a concert either

[stickfigurebrainrot]

Dark has a shelf full of Hatsune Miku figures as well as other stuff. He's just a fan of good music, Chosen doesn't get it but he's there for his friend.

[kyndaris]

An Intimate Night

During the pandemic, there wasn't much opportunity to attend music concerts. After all, there was a virus going around. As countries reopen with COVID-19 relegated to the rear view mirror, there has been a return of nighttime entertainment in the last few years. Of note for this humble blogger has been the return of musicals. Be that 9-5, featuring the songs of our favourite country singer: Dolly Parton, to Six and the Rocky Horror Show.

In the city itself, there have been a few smaller candlelit concerts with music ranging from movies to anime. A Distant Worlds hasn't graced the shores of Australia since 2017. And while we had a Kingdom Hearts music concert in 2019, it has certainly been quite a few years since I've gotten to enjoy a proper orchestra playing my favourite songs from a couple of my favourite franchises live.

No longer!

Given advanced notice by Facebook, I co-opted my good friend, @bleachpanda into the proceedings. It helped that the New World concert fell very close to her birthday. But unlike previous New Worlds that had been held at Chatswood Concourse, this time round, the two of us would enjoy the music from Final Fantasy at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music.

A place that I'd been to in my youth. Back when I was still being graded for piano and hadn't visited in a very long time.

After picking up two Krispy Kreme donuts and getting overcharged (for some reason, they charged me the price of a 4-donut box and I didn't realise it until I checked my bank balance the next day), I picked up @bleachpanda at Wynyard train station in the heart of the CBD. From there, we headed eastwards towards the State Library.

Despite the fact that we had bought tickets for the 6PM showing, eschewing dinner (which we ended up grabbing later anyways), there were still plenty of people in attendance. @bleachpanda and I were not the only music starved Final Fantasy fans out there.

And what a riveting opening number that the smaller chamber orchestra started off with! As soon as I heard the first few notes, a grin split my face from ear to ear. After all, this was Valse di Fantastica!

What followed next were a mix of songs both old and new.

I won't be able to put them in exact order as I thought it rude to pull out my phone and start recording the names but barring two songs from Final Fantasy XIV, I managed to remember most of them. I do believe one of them MAY have been Insatiable from the Shadowbrings DLC. The other was a more jazzy piece that I cannot, for the life of me, recall the name of. Probably because I should have played more of Final Fantasy XIV, but I digress.

The other songs that caught my attention were Town Theme from the first Final Fantasy. Then we had Besaid from Final Fantasy X, which I immediately recognised, followed by Heaven's Tower from Final Fantasy XI.

Then we had a variety of different songs. Unfortunately for @bleachpanda, none of them proved capable of keeping her engaged. These included Lenna's Theme from Final Fantasy V, Atonement from Final Fantasy XIII, Dark World from Final Fantasy VI and Melancholia from Final Fantasy XV.

Finally, in order to keep my poor friend awake, the orchestra played Force Your Way from Final Fantasy VIII along with a piece from @bleachpanda's favourite Final Fantasy game: IX. Except of course, A Place to Call Home was rudely cut short with a Final Fantasy XIV song.

We even got to hear the conductor, Eric Roth, sing when Serah's theme was played. And in fact, Eric Roth was a very memorable conductor as he gallivanted around the stage. Well, gallivant isn't quite the word either. He...danced? Or rather, conducted with the entirety of his body. From stamping his feet to waving his arms around as a means to tell the orchestra to add more oomph to a piece or to keep it more quiet.

Before too long, the concert came to an end. As it did, we were treated with several classic: Zanarkand, One-winged Angel, Victory Fanfare and Chocobo Medley. And to justify the acoustic guitar that they brought in we also heard a guitar solo of the main theme from the first Final Fantasy.

While it was no Distant Worlds, it was certainly a night that brought back a flood of memories of attending these concerts in the past. And, if anything else, was a sign that things in the world were finally returning to a state of normalcy. Whether we were ready for it or not.

[oliviaillustrations]

Garden of Eden

my piece for the @grishaversebigbang ! this is based off of the lovely dark academia ninej au fic written by @kugisakigf and @emdrabbles titled Garden of Eden

you can find my gang members and their amazing pieces below! 💗

Materialki: @landryaugust (here and here) @oranges-and-stuff (here)

AO3 Link: here!

Summary:

Nina is doing just fine as a directionless art student—she goes to class four times a week, struggles to get oil paint out of her clothes on laundry day, makes sure to dodge her landlord when he asks about rent, and dreads the day she has to graduate. Maybe she feels as important to the grand scheme of things as a stray brushstroke, and she's no closer to any shred of a clue about what she's going to do with her life. But it's fine. She's fine.

Except when Nina’s painting class gets a live model, she spends more time staring at this very pretty, very intimidating newcomer more than she does at her own canvas. Inej is gorgeous and terrifying and has her life together and now Nina can’t remember the last time she was able to think about anything but her. Pressure starts to ramp up and the world she's tried so hard to hide herself from keeps pounding at every wall she's built to protect herself, and now she's left wondering if she'll ever amount to anything. Will history forget Nina Zenik? Will she ever do something worthwhile with what little she's been given? And does it even matter, when Inej Ghafa seems to draw her ever closer, an Icarus to her blazing sun?

First Chapter: Nina Zenik is crumpled in a mass of blankets, shivering and bone-tired, when she realizes that sometimes, living in the attic of a church is worth it. She can deal with the rotting wood that creaks and rolls under her feet, the sounds splintering out across the room as she walks. She can forgive the smell of must and cobwebs, the heavy fragrance of mold and must and incense lingering around every corner, even on the rare occasions when she has time to clean. She can almost ignore the deep ache of wintertime, the heat barely making its way to her with long, spiraling fingers, the cold permeating through every crack in the walls that let in the sharp December chill. She's made her peace with the occasional mouse that sprints underfoot, the moths spending weeks on the windowsill, the shitty water pressure and gas stove that only works once a week if she was lucky.

Because mornings like this seemed to make everything worth it.

The rising sun, shallow and shy in the pale morning light, would reach out and glance off of an ancient stained glass window, just at her bedside. The sky would sing, and the carefully laid image of The Virgin Mary would glow, sweet features framed in green and violet. Nina would wake to vibrant shadows dancing across her skin and colors pooling on her floor like spilled blood. Sometimes, she would just sit there, hours before classes would start. The world faded to a hazy gray, and all that was left was the sunrise and her. She'd just look at the sun, and she'd pause for a moment, and just breathe . It never quite felt like she could get a full breath of air anymore. She would just take a breath, and she'd stop thinking, and she'd just be . She wasn't Nina Zenik, right now. She was sunlight and morning air and that particular shade of crimson shot through with gold when the light shines in.

She blinks, and the sun has moved. She's washed in pitch again, deep blue drowning the lines and arches of her body into a loose silhouette. She's empty, again, just a fragile body in a silent room. The floor dips and bends beneath her feet as if to sing a hollow tune in some form of an answer. It does not feel like enough. It never does.

She wipes a smudge of dust off the windows, her finger stained red even in the fading light. Her heart beats in concert with the pulsing of her head, and she winces, hard. Lack of sleep is catching up to her, it seems. The last few nights—weeks, if she's being true—have been short and restless, a sick sort of fear settling in whenever her eyes begin to close. It burns like every word she's never said and it spoils like a promise in her stomach. Everything is too much, and it's all she can do to stand on two feet and will her fingers to curl around a pencil. And even that's a pretense.

She hasn't been able to paint in months. Everything she makes seems twisted and wrong , an abomination of oil paints and a mockery of everything she's worked to accomplish. (She buries the voice that says she hasn't truly accomplished anything deep in her chest and tries to forget it can still breathe). She's felt stuck, a broken record that keeps skipping the same line of a song she's heard a hundred times. She can feel everything falling away from her, but doesn't know how to hold on to it all. She's losing it all with nothing she can do to stop it.

Nina doesn't have time for this- this crisis , something hisses in her ear, teeth grazing against her neck. But the problem is, she never has time for any of this. It all keeps piling up and then she’s buried under the weight of it and then she's having a panic attack in a public restroom and turning in late assignments and making excuses and she can’t do that . She can't do that again. So she compartmentalizes, picks out tiny little problems, and thinks about them for a short while, washes it down with wine, and calls it a night. Everything she doesn't deal with disappears in the morning. And she likes it that way.

But morning has come, and she still feels like a goddamn inside-out sock and she doesn't know what to do about it. Nina has been floundering for years, though, so this isn't any different than anything else.

Her phone flickers and the curling numbers read 7:49. Shit. She has a nine a.m. class and she's still in bed. Normally, she'd get to rot into her pillows for another hour at least, but she needed it for her major, and by the time she'd finally finished agonizing over which courses to take, it had been the only time slot open. So, here she is, aching limbs and sunburnt eyes, stepping onto the cold embrace of hardwood floors. She shivers, and the weak threads of sunlight that weave through the windows don't make the room any warmer.

The shower isn't warm, either. She bears the wet chill anyway. The water is soothing and it washes away the dregs of sleeplessness from her eyes. She stands under the spray, lets it drip down her back, and feels something like comfort as the soap slips down around her ankles and the room begins to smell like lavender. She waits for the water to finally run low, and steps out, puddles tracing her footsteps as she makes her way to her dresser.

Her hair lies damp on her shoulders, thick strands tangled and dark against her skin. It started curling, lately, and she's not sure why, but she doesn't quite mind. Sometimes, she closes her eyes, and imagines vines and leaves woven through the loose curls. A vision of Dionysus with dirt-stained fingers and violet stains under her eyes. A fairy twined with sumac and oak, wings that glow gold in the sunlight. She's always wanted to be special. She's always wished to be more than she is. But now, her own haggard reflection is what stares back at her. She's not sure if she likes what she sees.

She's not sure that it matters.

Nina gets dressed, rifling through her closet in search of something warm. It’s not like she’s obsessed with how she looks, but she does try and pick something nice. Today, she settles on a pink sweater patterned with strawberries, and earrings to match. (She’s nothing if not consistent.) It’s soft and thick, and it smells like summertime. It’s perfect for this, the kind of day that soaks through your skin and wears away at your bones. She slips into thick boots and a pair of jeans, and she's gone.

She takes the spiral staircase outside of her apartment one creaking step at a time, counting as she goes. One, two, three, four, avoid the loose nail on five, six, seven, eight. She should get that fixed, she thinks. But that would require seeing the landlord. And no one wants to see the landlord. The thought whispers away as fast as it came.

The staircase spits her out in the church vestibule. It’s all dark wood and low ceilings, pale morning light filtering through the narrow windows. Soft music floats through the heavy doors separating Nina from the nave of the church, and if she listens closely, faint chanting is woven between the notes. The song sounds familiar. She’s unsure if it’s a psalm drilled into her from middle school bible camp or because the organ drums the same tune beneath her floor every day.

Nina stands a moment longer, eyes momentarily fluttering closed as she listens, grasped by an unnamable sensation equal parts reassuring and paralyzing. And then she’s out the door, down the marble steps, and on the street.

The cold air stings her cheeks and her shoulders wince against the wind. She really should've grabbed a coat before she left, but it's fine. She still hasn't eaten, and she has a class in half an hour. If she turns back now she'll be late. So, Nina grits her teeth, ignoring how hard they're rattling against each other, and tugs the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her shaking hands. The coffee shop’s only a five-minute walk, and it'll be warm inside, and that's the only thing that keeps her moving forward. Her feet beat on the concrete with a steady rhythm, and she focuses on that instead of the aching cold.

The awning of the Dregs greets her, bold block letters on top of old red brick. Scuttling through the door, she’s welcomed by a gust of warm air. The barista looks up at the gentle tingle of the bell and flashes her a quick smile before resuming their work. They don’t look familiar. Must be a new hire. It feels like every time she gets comfortable around here, something changes. The world rolls and ripples under her feet, and she doesn’t remember the last time she’s caught her balance.

Nina takes a deep breath and rubs her hands together, which are now bright pink, then places them on the tips of her ears, which are also bright pink. The morning is quiet, with only a scattering of patrons to be found in the mixed-matched chairs. Some of the dark red wallpaper is beginning to peel off the plaster behind the counter. The Dregs she knows and loves.

“Good morning.” Behind the counter stands the barista, hands fidgeting with a dishtowel.

Nina blinks. “Mornin’,” she croaks, voice weak. She takes a look at the drink menu, even though she’s been here every morning since freshman orientation, because she needs to look busy and not as if she’s more burnt out than a pile of ash. Thankfully, the barista notices her quiet plea and doesn’t try to strike up any more conversation.

A few beats of silence pass, only interrupted by the occasional clink of coffee mugs. Despite already knowing what she’s going to order--the same damn caramel macchiato with far too much sugar than she should start her day with because why would she ever change the habits that hurt her the most--Nina stares at the menu overhead. Her eyes slowly unfocus, not actually reading the menu so much as wondering if she should even try to, so she doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the barista clears their throat with a little more vigor than necessary.

“So…” they start, rocking on the balls of their feet and making a point to not look directly at Nina. “Can I get you started or…?”

She snaps her head back down. “Oh, shit - sorry, yeah.” She allows herself one more moment to reconsider, then orders the caramel macchiato, but not before fumbling with her change. A cascade of pennies and nickels and dimes all crash to the floor and all noise in the cafe ceases at once. Nina doesn’t need to turn around to know how many pairs of eyes rest on her.

“I’ll, uh - get that for you right away.” The barista couldn’t have shuffled away any faster, disappearing into the back.

Nina swears once, loud, then stoops down and collects her change. Fucking figures. This morning has felt awfully representative of life in recent years - bitter, shitty, reliant on loose change. Yet her pride, or perhaps self pity, leaves her stagnant, unable to change. She refuses to get her hopes up about the coffee. With her luck it’ll be bitter and shitty, too.

The barista comes out soon after, coffee in one hand and muffin in the other. They set both on the counter and offer Nina a meek look. “Muffin’s on the house.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she says, scooping both into her hands. And she means it.

“Of course,” they say. Then they lean over the counter and point across the cafe. “And, uh - the drinks in the case over there, the orange ones. Yeah, those. They’re good for hangovers.”

Nina looks from the barista, to the case, then back to the barista. So that’s what this is. She scrunches her face into a weak smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace, and takes her drink without another word. Of course they think she’s hungover, because who would have such a shitty morning if they were sober? That thought is chased with a wave of guilt, heavy. They were being nice. Why can’t she just say thank you and move on? She pushes the door open and the bone chilling day greets her with a sting of cold that bites at her cheeks, her nose, ready to greet her next misfortune.

[stoopsbookstore]

The Fan (Chapter 2)

Warnings - Mentions of groping, accident at a performance

“Do you know what happened to your fansite, Y/N?”

Aya looked at her group member, scrolling through Instagram to see Milton's post, showing the phone screen to Y/N.

"Wow, he seems pissed," Y/N read the post, feeling uncertain about the post, "I mean, I guess it's sweet he cares enough to get mad over people trying to get upskirt shots."

"And he hasn't tried to grope her yet," Sanghee jumped over the sofa to sit next to Y/N, throwing her arm around her, "and if he does, I'm sure security will ban him like that guy who tried to go through our dressing room and sniff our underwear."

"Not funny," Y/N threw a pillow at the laughing Sanghee, hitting her face, "Yunhee was terrified, the poor thing wanted to escorted everywhere."

"She's our maknae, of cours-"

"To be fair, a 15 year old should be able to handle going to the bathroom without having a security guard stand outside the stall," Aya corrected Sanghee.

"Let's focus on something good. The previews of the photos are amazing! Look!" Chinsun hooked up her laptop to the TV, gleefully sorting through the photos, "Firethorn is amazing! Look at the angle on this one."

"Is he one of the guys from that ATEEZ studio Milton mentioned?" Chinsun opened a bag of chips, crunching them one after anothet, "isn't there a bunch of them?"

"However many there is, they take amazing photos," Y/N clicked the mouse, seeing all of the members throughout the year they've been together.

The group was broken out of their trance, their manager had entered the dorm's living room.

"We have to go, girls! 2 hours until showtime!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why am I being dragged along?"

Hongjoong was being pulled by Yunho and Wooyoung, the pair hurrying through the crowd.

"Because we need someone to hold our shit!" Yunho gave his camera bag to the older boy, looking through his camera, taking test shots of the arena, "I would've asked Seonghwa, but he's still upset about his camera."

"I would be too if some sleazeball pushed someone into me," Wooyoung snapped a picture of the crew setting up the stage.

"Well, I need to go take a piss, take your shit," Hongjoong handed Yunho back his luggage, handing to the bathroom before the performance started.

"He's going to miss the performance, he's not going to be able to get a good seat!" Yunho freaked out, waving his camera wildly and accidentally hitting a little fanboy who had been holding a sign for Yunhee, "oh shit, my bad, little dude. Here, you can have my lightstick."

The little boy stopped sobbing, snatching the Blossom Bong out of his hand, walking away from the tall boy, pouting for his father. The lights had changed to the group's signature colors, a dark green and a light mint, representing the stem of a flower. Erupting from the audience, the cheers drowned out the sound of whacks on metal.

Yunho's phone started buzzing, a text from Hongjoong appearing.

Dude, I can't get back in. They said once you're out, you're out.

Wtf thats bull shit! Its fine, the mall is just 2 blocks away, I'll go there, get some food, how long is the concert?

"Pick your petals! Hi, we are Bloom!"

Only about 90 minutes

ok, do you guys want anything?

Yeah, just get us some pizza. Ill text you when it's over. Sorry bro.

Its okay, Im not big on them anyway. And we'll have plently of more chances to see them.

Ok

After a few songs, the girls stood on stage to talk to the audience, a formality of their concerts.

"Petals, we are so proud of you," Chinsun had someone's camera, taking a selfie with Yunhee who was talking to the crowd, "because of you, we are able to stand on stage and dance, rap and sing, we're allowed to live our dream."

"Yunhee, you softie," Y/N was on the other end of the stage, holding a stuffed animal that someone had thrown on stage, "We may not have had a first win, we may not have a number one album, but we're with you guys and that's all that matters!"

"But I'm expecting a win for our comeba-"

Sanghee and Yunhee ran to Y/N, covering her mouth and dragging her to the floor.

"Just ignore her, she has a big mouth," Aya pointed her microphone at Y/N, the trio laughing on the stage floor, "she's always talking about crazy stuff. A comeback? Next month? That's insane!"

"But," the audience held their breath, Yunho and Wooyoung's camera clicking photos, a smug grin adorning Chinsun's face, "do you want a preview?"

The crowd roared into a thunderous applause, the girls gathering at center stage, waiting for Aya to come to them.

When Aya was about to step on the platform, it had collapsed, causing her to fall six feet onto her ankle.

"Fuck!" She had screamed in pain, the other members being held back by security as backstage crew helped Aya to her feet, her ankle throbbing in intense pain, "my leg! My fucking leg!"

"Holy shit!"

Wooyoung and Yunho saw the incident, Aya just a few feet front of them. She held her ankle when a security guard came, picking her up and bringing her offstage. The rest of the members were in a circle, talking to each other when their managers walked up, pulling them off stage. An announcement came up, the audience groaning and booing at what the voice had to say.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances, we have to cancel the rest of the concert. Check your email for any information about refunds, exchanges or other opportunities. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Yunho's phone vibrated, Wooyoung snapping a few photos of the downed platform.

"Dude," Yunho looked at Wooyoung with a disappointed look, the younger male lowering his camera in shame, "it's Hongjoong. Come on, let's go."

What happened?! Im in the lobby and heard a crash!

Aya got hurt! The stage fell

how did the stage fall?

I dont know. Theyre kicking everyone out and Bloom was pretty much ripped off stage. Its fucking bullshit, but I hope Aya's okay.

How is everyone else? Hows Yunhee hows Y/N?

Theyre fine from what we saw, a bit shaking. Where are you in the lobby?

Near the dipping dots

"Do you think that Milton guy will have something to say?"

"I don't think I even saw him there," Wooyoung mentioned the apparent absence of the fansite master, "I wonder if he had to do something with it."

Yunho scoffed at the theory, spotting Hongjoong in the disgruntled crowd, passing by the little boy, who was now full on pouring out tears.

"He may be crazy, but I don't think he would be that crazy."

"Who?" Hongjoong sipped his soda, Wooyoung taking his drink while the trio watched the people leave the arena, "that White Jasmine guy?"

"Yeah, he wasn't there," Yunho checked his phone, "no post either."

Hongjoong, Yunho and Wooyoung begun to hid out to the car, the cloud hanging out the parking lot dark and gloomy as the cries of little boys and girls could be heard for miles. Yunho started the car, Wooyoung getting in the back while Hongjoong turned on the radio, the car filling with one of Bloom's b-sides.

"Not now," Wooyoung reached between the front seats, switching it to classic music.

The rest of the ride spent in tense disappointment.

[existentialstatesofmind]

Opening Up

Clare: raised an eyebrow at the mention of dark manga. “Thank you. I’ll have to download it to my tablet and check it out. But I will be careful. Especially when I read late at night.” She probably wouldn’t be able to sleep at all if she stumbled across the wrong manga. Clare laughed at Kota’s story. “One group of boys ruined it for everyone, huh. I guess the sewing and child development units would be worse especially if they didn’t choose to be there. I do want to learn how to cook. I can’t complain about getting my wish.” She shrugged. “She locked herself in a locker? If Nakashimi is so shy she was hiding from people not that long ago, I’ll just have to remember to be patient with her. Sounds like she’s trying to change.” At the mention of girls not wearing pants, Clare thought she was already experiencing culture shock. “I can’t win.” She grumbled. She smiled at Kota and playfully smacked his arm soon as he laughingly mentioned picturing her in Visual Kei style. “I already got the memo that I can’t pull off the Goth look from Eli! Okay, does this mean I have to freeze every time we go outside until Spring? I really can’t bring any pants with me?” She said in dismay. The leggings would be fine for school, they had to wear uniforms in the first place. The rest of the time was what concerned Clare. “Glad I found this out now. What if I pack all the wrong things? This is going to be a disaster. Are there other social norms to keep in mind while shopping?” Clare bristled at being called a Yankee. She’d mostly heard it in reference to New Yorkers usually with the word ‘damn’ preceding it and she was Canadian. “I was hoping you would. Dakota, if they think you slept with other girls before we started dating I won’t tell them differently. Not even Alli because it’s none of her business if my boyfriend’s a virgin or not. Sleeping in my room might make everyone at our new temporary school think we’re having sex. I don’t care. I can stop wearing my purity ring if we need to make it more believable.” She nervously twisted said ring around on her finger. Clare would do almost anything to keep from losing Kota the way she’d lost K.C especially since she was a lot more attached to her current boyfriend. However, she drew the line at having sex because you ‘were supposed to’. Wanting to because they loved each other was another story. “Japanese girls are lucky they’re not held to different impossible standards. However, I can’t just start having sex. Are you still okay with waiting? Whenever we are both ready, we’d have to take things really slow. There’s a lot to consider besides how I’m going to feel if I go against my beliefs. Birth control is out of the question for one thing.” Clare ignored Kota when he turned away. She had never spoken to a real celebrity before and she didn’t get to rehearse what to say. Who knew what would come out of her mouth if she wasn’t being guarded right now? Of course, it would’ve been far worse if he’d took her to meet Melanie Martinez backstage at a concert where she thought it was appropriate to jump up and down screaming in his ear and to ask for pictures and autographs. She shook Melanie’s hand. “I am so I know you’re not on tour right now. Are you here to shoot a music video or record a new album?” Clare asked still suspecting there must be another reason Melanie was in town. She listened the story about Johnny Depp with wide eyes. “You really did all of that, Kota? How old were you?” It was unbelievable, he knew all of these famous people and MB was blowing up. She smiled when Melanie mentioned bowling. It was very cool she did normal things though Clare wondered how she could without being mobbed. A disguise? Renting out a private bowling alley? “Yes of course you can!” She told Melanie. “Did Kota tell you about the exchange program we’re going on to Japan? I have to figure out what I need for about six months, and I had no idea what Kota was up to.” Clare said apologetically. She laughed glancing at her boyfriend. “He told me he’d give me a tour.”

Kota: looked at Clare. "You can choose what category you read. If you have drama selected and find a story it'll also show what other categories it's in such as fantasy, sci-fi, horror, and more that way you have a warning. Plus you need to judge the manga by the cover, if the picture looks scary the book will be scary." he explained not wanting her to read horror before bed. "If you want I can teach you the basics. I'm not sure if they'll require you to use a wok or not, but I can teach you how to use that too." he offered. "Well, the locker was unlocked so she mainly hid, but yes please be patient and know when she yells it's not out of anger." he smiled at her and listened to what she had to say. "No you don't have to freeze, you can wear pants when we're out together. I've heard by guys they're really warm and I may have to wear them. They are allowing us to have a Cultural Festival a little later so we'd be able to experience it first hand. Right now girls are asking my kendo club do a Host Cafe, but it probably won't be allowed. Our class will be doing a reverse maid cafe and you don't need to ask for pictures, you'll already get them. It's required that the entire class take a picture in their costumes which means I get to see you dressed as a guy since you'll be in charge of the register and the host. It'll be easy since you'll mainly take the customers to their seat and sit them down and that also means you get to wear pants." he assured and listened to her mention her purity ring and kids at school, he automatically put his hand on hers. "Clare, remember we're staying with Yohio. He's one of my best friends and probably already thinks we sleep in the same bed, but knows I'm a virgin and he hasn't told anyone. No one in school is going to know about us sharing a bed even if they sleep over. Emi and I can stay in my room and you can stay in yours with whomever sleeps over. You don't need to even take your ring off. A lot of girls will probably just look at it as a regular ring. I don't care if it takes me a while to lose my virginity. I'm not ready to lose it either. I have Emi and like you said birth control is out of the question and condoms break so even if I were ready, I wouldn't have sex. The only thing one hundred percent effective against pregnancy is abstinence and I don't want to risk having an Emi of my own running around. I wouldn't be able to deal with a crying baby and one that's hyperactive during the day. We can talk more when one of us is ready to take that step, but right now we're on the same page." he assured and kissed her head. When Clare asked Melanie her question, he looked at Melanie too. "Well, I came here to get away. This is my home away from home and Kota and I don't end up in another American scandal when we're here." Mel shrugged honestly. "I was 13 and yes. We really did run away to the UK." he confirmed. "Besides it's not like I can runaway to another country anymore." he sighed. "You could always run to America and we can hang out for about a day until videos of you get uploaded to youtube or something. 'This just in Kota Anderson just landed in LAX. Paparazzi are already on scene." Mel said mimicking a fake reporter as she and Kota laughed. "Not to mention the mobs." he stated. "Yes, like when we went out to eat. 'Can we get pictures and autographs?' 'Are you two dating?' and then the scandals began." Mel laughed. "But we squashed them in about a week." he reminded. "He did tell me about going to Japan, but not as an exchange program. I told him not to tell you he's meeting me. I'm glad to see he kept my promise." she smiled. "I want a tour too. We can go have some fun." she smiled and Kota lead them out of his office leaving Melanie's dresses in there. "What do you want to see first? I can't take you into the place where everything is made though, it's too dangerous. I can take you to other offices and to Yohio's lab." he explained.