The bookstore was packed.
Fans were everywhere—lining the aisles, crowding near the stage, buzzing with excitement.
Posters of Moonlight Sonata's novels towered on display racks, each one showing the elegant, moody book cover with the author's name in bold gold foil.
Backstage, a ripple of anticipation stirred among the event staff.
Phones were already out, cameras prepped.
The crowd fell into a hush as the host stepped onto the platform with a glowing smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen… thank you for your patience. Now, for the very first time, let's give a warm welcome to the man behind the name that's taken the literary world by storm—Moonlight Sonata!"
Applause erupted, cameras flashed, and fans leaned forward—
—and then he stepped out.
Makoto Miura.
Blonde hair slightly tousled, like he'd just run a hand through it seconds before.
His green eyes, vivid and piercing, swept across the sea of people under the spotlight.
He wore a black turtleneck under a dark tailored blazer that hugged his lean, sculpted frame perfectly, paired with fitted trousers that gave him the appearance of a magazine model who happened to be dangerously intelligent.
The room was stunned for a heartbeat too long.
Whispers turned to gasps.
He was even more gorgeous than fans imagined.
Almost too perfect.
Like a secret kept too long.
Ayaka stood at the very back, hidden under a black baseball cap and a face mask.
She blended into the shadows, near the shelves of discounted travel guides, her heart pounding like she was a teenager sneaking into a concert.
No one recognized her—not with her hair tucked in and the mask covering half her face.
But her eyes never left Makoto.
He stood on stage now, giving the crowd a soft, boyish smile, one hand awkwardly running down the side of his pants like he wasn't used to all the attention.
"Uh… hi." he said into the mic, voice smooth but edged with nerves. "I—um—I'm Moonlight Sonata… or, well, Makoto Miura."
The crowd screamed. Ayaka smiled beneath her mask.
Makoto scratched the back of his neck. "This is… a lot. I've never done anything like this before. Honestly, I get nervous in front of big crowds. I almost cancelled this whole thing like... five times."
Laughter rose from the audience, warm and supportive.
He exhaled, then chuckled. "But I found this tip online." he said, stepping a little closer to the mic. "It said—if you're nervous in front of a crowd, just focus on one person. One face. Pretend they're the only one there."
Ayaka's stomach twisted.
Makoto's eyes swept slowly across the sea of fans—until they landed on the very back of the room.
Right where she was standing.
And then he smiled. That lazy, soft, heart-melting smile he only ever used on her.
"So I'll do just that. I'm going to focus on one person from now on." he said, voice low, eyes unwavering.
The crowd swooned.
Phones shot up.
Girls shrieked.
The whispering began.
"Who's he looking at?"
"Wait—is it someone here?"
"Is she famous?"
Ayaka ducked her head quickly, pretending to scroll on her phone.
But her cheeks burned.
Her heart was pounding too fast.
She wanted to run.
She wanted to stay.
He saw her. There was no mistaking it.
Makoto moved on to a short reading from his novel—voice steady now, relaxed, as if just telling a story to a friend.
To her.
Every line he read carried weight, every word spoken like a secret passed between two people across a crowd that no longer mattered.
After the reading, the signing table was prepared.
Fans lined up eagerly with their books, gifts, and even handmade crafts.
Makoto sat behind the table, that same calm yet charming presence radiating off him like sunlight through glass.
His long fingers moved swiftly as he signed copies, occasionally stopping to chat or smile at fans.
But every few minutes, his eyes flickered to the back.
To her.
Ayaka watched silently, arms crossed, hiding behind a shelf of cookbooks.
She didn't want to be spotted.
Not yet. But watching him like this—so poised, so adored—it was strange.
Makoto had always seemed more reserved, more private.
But here, under the lights and in front of all these people, he wasn't just an author.
He was captivating.
Still, Ayaka could see the subtle tension in his shoulders.
The way his fingers twitched slightly when no one was looking.
The way he sometimes paused just a beat too long before answering a fan.
He was nervous.
He really was.
He was trying to be brave.
And that was what made him even more beautiful.
Suddenly, she felt someone tap her shoulder.
It was the assistant coordinator. "Excuse me, Ms. Midnight?"
Ayaka froze. "Um…"
"Mr. Miura asked if you could be brought to the back lounge. He said he'd recognize you even with the cap and mask." the coordinator smiled knowingly. "He said he needs his lucky charm."
Ayaka blinked, stunned.
Then slowly nodded.
They guided her discreetly through a staff entrance behind a tall shelf of magazines.
She was led to the private lounge behind the event space—simple, quiet, away from the noise.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
Makoto entered.
His green eyes lit up the second he saw her.
"I knew you'd come." he said quietly, smile spreading.
Ayaka pulled down her mask just enough for him to see her smile. "You didn't tell me you were going to call me out like that."
"I didn't say your name." he said innocently. "I was subtle."
"You stared for like ten seconds."
"Okay, maybe I wasn't that subtle." He ran a hand through his hair and sat beside her on the worn couch. "But… I was really nervous, and when I saw you, it helped."
Ayaka looked at him, this version of Makoto—public-facing, beloved, still the boy with a haunted past trying to prove himself.
And now, sitting beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You were amazing." she said softly.
"Only because you were here." he replied.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Just the hum of the crowd outside and the occasional thump of someone moving stage equipment.
Then Ayaka reached over and patted his head.
Makoto blinked, startled, his face flushed red.
"I'm proud of you." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He looked at her. Really looked at her.
And in that moment, it didn't matter that he was Moonlight Sonata.
Or that the world was now watching him.
Because in that quiet room, with only her beside him, Makoto Miura was just a boy who confronted his fears, bravely.
------
The signing event wrapped up just after sunset.
The bookstore lights dimmed, the crowds finally dispersed, and the last of the fans waved their goodbyes with starry eyes and arms full of signed books.
Makoto changed into a casual black button-down shirt—just enough effort to look put-together without looking like he was trying too hard.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms and veins that somehow made Ayaka look away every time her gaze lingered too long.
His messy blonde hair was slightly damp from freshening up, and when he smiled at her from the other side of the car, her heart did an annoying little flutter again.
"I owe you dinner." he said, sliding into the driver's seat. "No arguments."
"You don't owe me anything." Ayaka said, adjusting her seatbelt. "I should be the one treating you. You just had a whole book signing event."
"Exactly." he smirked, starting the engine. "Which means I'm exhausted and emotionally fragile. Let me feed you so I can recover."
She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Fine."
They drove through the city as the night lights began to flicker on—Tokyo glittering like a constellation came to life.
Makoto tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the soft jazz playing through the speakers, humming slightly under his breath.
He took her to a cozy, tucked-away bistro just a few streets from the main road. It was dimly lit, warm, and intimate—exposed brick walls, flickering candlelight on each table, and smooth vinyl playing in the background.
The hostess greeted Makoto like she knew him, and it only took one look at Ayaka before she smiled knowingly and led them to a quiet booth near the window.
Ayaka took off her mask and cap, finally breathing freely.
The moment their menus were handed to them, Makoto leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand, eyes never leaving her.
"You're glowing tonight."
Ayaka blinked. "I'm… what?"
"I mean it." He said, voice softer. "Even in a mask and cap, I saw you right away. Like my eyes just knew where to look."
She looked away, flustered. "Don't start."
"I'm serious." His green eyes were calm, but there was something intense in the way they studied her. "You don't realize it, do you? How much you affect people. How much you affect me."
Her breath caught for a second, but before she could answer, the waiter returned.
They both ordered—Makoto with practiced ease, Ayaka still trying to remember how to speak like a normal person.
As they waited for their food, the conversation shifted to lighter things.
Makoto teased her for sneaking in like a ninja.
She teased him for quoting a nervous-sounding tip in front of a hundred people.
"I seriously thought you were going to faint." she grinned.
"I thought you were going to bolt and run the moment I looked at you."
"I almost did."
He laughed—really laughed—and the sound made her chest ache.
He looked more relaxed now.
The usual shadows in his eyes were softer tonight.
When dinner arrived—steaming plates of pasta and roasted vegetables—Makoto paused.
"I used to dream about this." he said, twirling his fork. "Having dinner with you. Not as a fan. Not as someone chasing you from afar. Just… like this."
Ayaka looked at him, her pulse skipping. "You used to?"
"All the time." He didn't look away. "And now here you are. Sitting across from me. And I'm scared I'm going to say something stupid and ruin it."
"You're doing fine so far." she said gently, a smile playing on her lips.
"I'm still nervous." he admitted, laughing under his breath. "But it's easier when you're around. It always is."
Their hands brushed when they both reached for the pepper grinder.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Makoto reached out slowly and placed his hand over hers.
"I'm not expecting anything." he said. "I know where your heart is—or… I think I do. And I know you're still trying to figure things out."
She didn't speak and just froze.
"I just want you to know." he continued, "That even if it's just like this, even if we're only friends… I'm grateful. That you came today. That you sat through all that for me. That you stayed."
Her fingers curled slightly into his.
"I didn't want you to be alone." she murmured. "You've always been there for me too."
Makoto smiled.
Not the teasing kind.
Not the flirtatious kind.
But the real one.
The quiet, warm, boyish one that told her he meant every word.
After dinner, they walked out into the cool night air.
The street was quiet, the bistro's hanging lights glowing above them like fireflies. Makoto stopped just outside the restaurant.
"Want to take a walk?"
Ayaka nodded.
They walked side by side, close enough to brush their shoulders.
No more masks.
No more crowds.
Just the two of them and the occasional passing car.
He told her about the writing process behind his novel. How he almost gave up halfway. How her stories had inspired him to keep going.
She told him about the next book she was working on. He promised to pre-order ten copies.
They stopped at a quiet little pedestrian bridge.
The water below sparkled with city lights. Makoto leaned against the railing, looking out.
"Thank you..." he said softly.
"For what?"
"For making today the best day of my life."
She looked at him—really looked—and felt something shift quietly inside her chest.
Maybe it was the way he said it.
Maybe it was the night, the warmth in his voice, the truth in his eyes.