Day to Day
Title: Day to Day
Rating: G
Warnings: Nonsense. This is utter nonsense.
Summary/Notes: Today, I had a German song stuck in my head by chance. I found the English version: “Day to Day” by Hannes Wader (Heute hier, Morgen dort). So I listened to the German song while writing it.
Nino is a traveller who makes songs that reminds him of the people and situations he experienced.
"…Day today, town to town sing my songs travel on…"
Ohno stopped walking for a moment as the song reached his ears. The voice was beautiful, he thought as his eyes searched for the singer. He smiled when he saw a young boy at the corner of the park. He carefully walked more closely, observing the boy.
He looked young, Ohno thought. He was almost the same height as he and stood there under the street light that was still turned off, but Ohno knew it would change soon. The sun was already setting behind the other and painted him in a beautiful light, accenting his face's boyish features even.
The guitar was all that he had with him, no bag, nor a case to collect some money for his performance, maybe. It was just him in an over-sized cream coloured sweater, skinny black jeans that made his legs seem longer than they were and worn-out sneakers. The guitar looked well-loved, fingerprints on the shining surface peeking through the stickers put on it.
The strangers' eyes were closed, his brows furrowed as he concentrated on the song that he was singing and Ohno found himself standing put as he watched the boy while listening to the music.
He smiled when the song came to an end, and he finally took the last steps to get closer to him. "I like your song," he said.
The other opened his eyes in surprise, a slight blush suddenly decorating his cheeks as his mind caught up with the words Ohno had muttered. The eyes were beautiful golden brown, and Ohno knew right then that he would never get to forget them. There was no possibility.
"Thank you," he said and looked down sheepishly.
"A bit sad, though. I'm Ohno Satoshi, by the way," he greeted, holding out his hand. The other stared at him in confusion for a second before he took the offered hand with a small smirk on his face.
“Ninomiya Kazunari, nice to meet you. And I think it's somewhat hopeful," he explained with a teasing tilt to his voice as he looked at their still connected hands.
Ohno felt the eyes heavy on him but couldn't help himself with the following words that left his lips: "May I invite you for a coffee? Or…"
"Sure, I'm free all night," Nino said in a velvet voice, and Ohno smiled as he watched Nino putting his guitar differently around his shoulders so that it rested on his back. Nino then retook his hand with a slight smirk that deepened when Ohno stubbornly tightened their grip. They didn't let go for the rest of the night.
"…my time's mine to borrow or share, till again I must go…"
-
"…but sometimes, when my dreams start to haunt me…"
Nino strummed his guitar in another city on another day, just singing his beloved song, holding the beloved guitar in his hands. His palm covered the black sketch that appeared on it the day after his last time in Tokyo.
Now he was back in Chiba, his eyes wandering over the crowd, as he played his songs, smiling at little children who came close and chuckled at the antics of two children who danced to one of his faster songs until their father called for them to come back.
They argued that they had fun right now and just one more song and the man laughed, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes as he agreed but reminded them that their mother was waiting for them at home, and Nino knew his smile faltered for a second. A memory long gone, coming back to the surface, reminding him that just as he moved, time did as well.
The smile was back in place as his eyes met with the guy. He tilted his head just slightly as he wanted to make sure the other knew that he didn't mind. The songs he played were for others to enjoy, after all. A small thanks when a few notes found their way to him when the children told him their gratitude and ran to their father.
Nino's eyes were dark as the man vanished, a child on either hand of his, hopping alongside the man, chattering a mile a minute, and Nino allowed his eyes to fall close as his memories surrounded him again.
He had chosen this life of travelling and playing his songs. He had never asked for the day before or the next. Never complained. The only important thing to Nino was the moment he was in right now. He tried not to dwell on the past.
His eyes opened again, the man with his two children long gone, the sun had gone down, and the people around him slowly dissipated. The memories of an innocent childhood gone promises broken, dreams changed. He decided to take a break, maybe set up somewhere else, his mind still remembering all the places where couples would go to have a date. He could sing a love song or two, make enough money for the night in a hotel or even two before deciding to move on, another day, another town, another memory, the same songs.
"…but the years and the days pass me by…"
-
"…Though the folk I have met (Ah, how soon!) they forget…"
Today he had chosen a corner of the station, out of the way of any people in a hurry so that he wouldn't get run over, but close enough to be heard over the usual sounds of the sounds from the station. The wind blowing in the station, the calls from the people in the station, the sound of trains arriving and leaving all weaving into is songs, as he strummed the sings of his guitar.
Today's songs were slow, filled with longing, memories from a time long passed, and hope for a better future. His eyes were on the people. Some were slowing down for a few steps when the first notes hit them, their steps suddenly almost like dances in Nino's eyes, and he turned his head down to hide the smiles in the shadows the light created around him.
He sang from hometowns from disasters from longing, fear and love.
Fierce love, deep love, love long gone. Faces that vanished in masses of people, memories that disappeared and the hope that maybe not all would forget, but some remember.
Nino could see him in the crowds. His steps were fast but measured. He never got too close to running into one, and his eyes were focused. He had seen him in the morning with the same stance, and a small smile appeared on his lips as the other stopped for a few seconds when his little melody finally reached him.
His steps slowed for a while, he came to a stop, and Nino could see in his eyes that the song he heard brought back a memory, faint as it was, and Nino's heart sang. The evenings, he thought, were always the best. People were slower then, more open to his songs, to be reached by his words than in the morning when all they did were hurry to start their day to get to their jobs in time.
Nino mourned the time years ago he had been last in Kobe. The chaos was still clear in his memory. No songs had been played for a while until Nino had not been able to stand the silence, the sadness and the fear anymore. He had then stayed in the same corner he stayed today, playing his songs about a hopeful future, about hometowns, about never being alone.
His songs about human souls so strong and still so weak, he remembered all the faces of that night, the hopeful looks, the sadness of the beaten people before him, but also the strengths in their stances.
The man, hurrying along, trying to get all the information he needed, his mind solely focused on getting the people the news they needed and deserved. Nino then had appreciated his hard work. Maybe he had changed to a more motivating song when the man had been close and looked as if he was about to give up.
Nino had played until late into the night. Way later than he usually would, his fingers numb, his throat sore, still not enough money for a hotel, not that there had been a room free for him. Not that Nino had wanted to take one. Not that night. It had been magical.
Their eyes never met, the magic dissolved when someone ran into the man, pulling him out of his trance, as he apologies to the youth he had stood in the way of, the music again only a faint memory in the back of his head, a dream that never had been true, and Nino decided that for tonight he had played long enough, already thinking of where to go next.
"… who'll remember my song or my face…"
-
"…it seems I should try settling down for a change, in some town…"
There had been times Nino had thought about settling down. The thoughts about it came and went just like he did. It had never stuck, though. His indecisiveness had made it impossible.
He was back in Kyoto today, settling down under a big willow, his guitar on his lap as he tuned its strings, cleaning the wood and caressing the pictures on it as they had grown in number again, all a memory of a town, a person, songs that meant so much to him, so little to other people, or the other way around. Nino had long learnt not to ask which songs people liked and which not and what the reason behind it was.
And he had long given up trying to explain the sentiments behind them to others. Nino strummed the strings slowly, listening to their tune to change it if needed, a small smile on his face when it came out right. He just loved music; there was no need to put it in words, to destroy the dreams surrounding them with any explanations.
He had tried once, a long time ago. Between pristine sheets, smelling slightly like lavender, warm and strong arms around his shoulders as they lay awake for hours into the night.
Nino had loved to see the sun go up with the arms around him and their talks. But it was always hard to put the emotions he felt during singing into words. His songs were his emotions, his love, his sadness, his words. It was always easier to sing about important things than to tell someone about them.
But then under the sheets, hidden away from the world, he did. He explained it all for hours without end, listening to the other man, telling him what he felt and thought about when he heard his songs. It had been exciting. It had been fantastic.
Nino had thought then it was the one. He would stay. He would make a living there and have started something else. Not an office-job that chance had gone long ago when he had started with his travels, but he had helped behind the scenes of the movies his past lover had starred in. It had been fun, but…
A year. He had managed to stay a year. He had been so young then, thinking that if he just waited long enough and tried hard enough, he would find happiness there. Then the songs had called, the towns had called, and he had seen how things had already changed between them. Nothing was the same as it had been when they met, and Nino had left.
They hadn't fought. They never forgot one another, but both of them, whenever they saw each other, act as if they had never seen each other before-the perfect strangers.
"…go their ways, and the changes are all that remain…"
-
"…please don't ask me to say why I've chosen this way…"
Ohno perked up as the voice reached his ears again. He slowly made his way through the park, searching for the young man he knew the voice belonged to. It seemed too soon for him to be back, while at the same time like an eternity, he had him in his arms the next time.
Just as Ohno had known, then he didn't forget about the boyish smile, the chocolate brown eyes that were mesmerising and the velvet voice that always seemed to sing to him. The voice even more perfect in the silence of his bedroom, Nino being so close and yet so far because Ohno had known Nino would leave again.
He could understand the need to travel, visit new towns, stay a day or two, and go on. The restlessness inside of one when nowhere and everywhere seemed to be home, when everything was remarkable, and the thought of staying at one spot was so hard.
Ohno wanted that life. But he hadn't been able to leave, too worried to leave his family behind, not to be there if something happened and bound by the expectations of society of him. He had learned that expectations that were not there were always just a social construct, he had been too scared to leave behind.
Ohno was not sure what it was that made Nino so interesting, so unique and special. Maybe because his songs awakened that want to travel again. And Ohno was convinced that there was no holding back anymore.
Ohno stepped closer to the man, their eyes met, and there was just the slightest gasp in Nino's voice as his song came to an end. Ohno smiled as he held out his hand.
"I like your song," he said.
"Thank you," Nino answered.
Ohno smiled, his hand didn't weaver as he watched Nino with fond eyes. "It's very hopeful," he added.
Nino finally chuckled and took the offered hands, Ohno tugging him close the seconds the tips of their fingers touched.
"I would say it is a rather sad song," he said, the tease now clear. "A man nowhere at home, always forgotten."
"Things change," Ohno said after a moment, and Nino hummed in understanding as Ohno tugged him even closer to himself to close his lips over Nino's, stopping him from a clear answer.
"May I invite you for a coffee?" Nino asked instead.
Ohno grinned as he nodded. "I'm free all night."
"…and the changes I've seen tell me nothing I know stays the same…"
Rating: G
Warnings: Nonsense. This is utter nonsense.
Summary/Notes: Today, I had a German song stuck in my head by chance. I found the English version: “Day to Day” by Hannes Wader (Heute hier, Morgen dort). So I listened to the German song while writing it.
Nino is a traveller who makes songs that reminds him of the people and situations he experienced.
"…Day today, town to town sing my songs travel on…"
Ohno stopped walking for a moment as the song reached his ears. The voice was beautiful, he thought as his eyes searched for the singer. He smiled when he saw a young boy at the corner of the park. He carefully walked more closely, observing the boy.
He looked young, Ohno thought. He was almost the same height as he and stood there under the street light that was still turned off, but Ohno knew it would change soon. The sun was already setting behind the other and painted him in a beautiful light, accenting his face's boyish features even.
The guitar was all that he had with him, no bag, nor a case to collect some money for his performance, maybe. It was just him in an over-sized cream coloured sweater, skinny black jeans that made his legs seem longer than they were and worn-out sneakers. The guitar looked well-loved, fingerprints on the shining surface peeking through the stickers put on it.
The strangers' eyes were closed, his brows furrowed as he concentrated on the song that he was singing and Ohno found himself standing put as he watched the boy while listening to the music.
He smiled when the song came to an end, and he finally took the last steps to get closer to him. "I like your song," he said.
The other opened his eyes in surprise, a slight blush suddenly decorating his cheeks as his mind caught up with the words Ohno had muttered. The eyes were beautiful golden brown, and Ohno knew right then that he would never get to forget them. There was no possibility.
"Thank you," he said and looked down sheepishly.
"A bit sad, though. I'm Ohno Satoshi, by the way," he greeted, holding out his hand. The other stared at him in confusion for a second before he took the offered hand with a small smirk on his face.
“Ninomiya Kazunari, nice to meet you. And I think it's somewhat hopeful," he explained with a teasing tilt to his voice as he looked at their still connected hands.
Ohno felt the eyes heavy on him but couldn't help himself with the following words that left his lips: "May I invite you for a coffee? Or…"
"Sure, I'm free all night," Nino said in a velvet voice, and Ohno smiled as he watched Nino putting his guitar differently around his shoulders so that it rested on his back. Nino then retook his hand with a slight smirk that deepened when Ohno stubbornly tightened their grip. They didn't let go for the rest of the night.
"…my time's mine to borrow or share, till again I must go…"
-
"…but sometimes, when my dreams start to haunt me…"
Nino strummed his guitar in another city on another day, just singing his beloved song, holding the beloved guitar in his hands. His palm covered the black sketch that appeared on it the day after his last time in Tokyo.
Now he was back in Chiba, his eyes wandering over the crowd, as he played his songs, smiling at little children who came close and chuckled at the antics of two children who danced to one of his faster songs until their father called for them to come back.
They argued that they had fun right now and just one more song and the man laughed, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes as he agreed but reminded them that their mother was waiting for them at home, and Nino knew his smile faltered for a second. A memory long gone, coming back to the surface, reminding him that just as he moved, time did as well.
The smile was back in place as his eyes met with the guy. He tilted his head just slightly as he wanted to make sure the other knew that he didn't mind. The songs he played were for others to enjoy, after all. A small thanks when a few notes found their way to him when the children told him their gratitude and ran to their father.
Nino's eyes were dark as the man vanished, a child on either hand of his, hopping alongside the man, chattering a mile a minute, and Nino allowed his eyes to fall close as his memories surrounded him again.
He had chosen this life of travelling and playing his songs. He had never asked for the day before or the next. Never complained. The only important thing to Nino was the moment he was in right now. He tried not to dwell on the past.
His eyes opened again, the man with his two children long gone, the sun had gone down, and the people around him slowly dissipated. The memories of an innocent childhood gone promises broken, dreams changed. He decided to take a break, maybe set up somewhere else, his mind still remembering all the places where couples would go to have a date. He could sing a love song or two, make enough money for the night in a hotel or even two before deciding to move on, another day, another town, another memory, the same songs.
"…but the years and the days pass me by…"
-
"…Though the folk I have met (Ah, how soon!) they forget…"
Today he had chosen a corner of the station, out of the way of any people in a hurry so that he wouldn't get run over, but close enough to be heard over the usual sounds of the sounds from the station. The wind blowing in the station, the calls from the people in the station, the sound of trains arriving and leaving all weaving into is songs, as he strummed the sings of his guitar.
Today's songs were slow, filled with longing, memories from a time long passed, and hope for a better future. His eyes were on the people. Some were slowing down for a few steps when the first notes hit them, their steps suddenly almost like dances in Nino's eyes, and he turned his head down to hide the smiles in the shadows the light created around him.
He sang from hometowns from disasters from longing, fear and love.
Fierce love, deep love, love long gone. Faces that vanished in masses of people, memories that disappeared and the hope that maybe not all would forget, but some remember.
Nino could see him in the crowds. His steps were fast but measured. He never got too close to running into one, and his eyes were focused. He had seen him in the morning with the same stance, and a small smile appeared on his lips as the other stopped for a few seconds when his little melody finally reached him.
His steps slowed for a while, he came to a stop, and Nino could see in his eyes that the song he heard brought back a memory, faint as it was, and Nino's heart sang. The evenings, he thought, were always the best. People were slower then, more open to his songs, to be reached by his words than in the morning when all they did were hurry to start their day to get to their jobs in time.
Nino mourned the time years ago he had been last in Kobe. The chaos was still clear in his memory. No songs had been played for a while until Nino had not been able to stand the silence, the sadness and the fear anymore. He had then stayed in the same corner he stayed today, playing his songs about a hopeful future, about hometowns, about never being alone.
His songs about human souls so strong and still so weak, he remembered all the faces of that night, the hopeful looks, the sadness of the beaten people before him, but also the strengths in their stances.
The man, hurrying along, trying to get all the information he needed, his mind solely focused on getting the people the news they needed and deserved. Nino then had appreciated his hard work. Maybe he had changed to a more motivating song when the man had been close and looked as if he was about to give up.
Nino had played until late into the night. Way later than he usually would, his fingers numb, his throat sore, still not enough money for a hotel, not that there had been a room free for him. Not that Nino had wanted to take one. Not that night. It had been magical.
Their eyes never met, the magic dissolved when someone ran into the man, pulling him out of his trance, as he apologies to the youth he had stood in the way of, the music again only a faint memory in the back of his head, a dream that never had been true, and Nino decided that for tonight he had played long enough, already thinking of where to go next.
"… who'll remember my song or my face…"
-
"…it seems I should try settling down for a change, in some town…"
There had been times Nino had thought about settling down. The thoughts about it came and went just like he did. It had never stuck, though. His indecisiveness had made it impossible.
He was back in Kyoto today, settling down under a big willow, his guitar on his lap as he tuned its strings, cleaning the wood and caressing the pictures on it as they had grown in number again, all a memory of a town, a person, songs that meant so much to him, so little to other people, or the other way around. Nino had long learnt not to ask which songs people liked and which not and what the reason behind it was.
And he had long given up trying to explain the sentiments behind them to others. Nino strummed the strings slowly, listening to their tune to change it if needed, a small smile on his face when it came out right. He just loved music; there was no need to put it in words, to destroy the dreams surrounding them with any explanations.
He had tried once, a long time ago. Between pristine sheets, smelling slightly like lavender, warm and strong arms around his shoulders as they lay awake for hours into the night.
Nino had loved to see the sun go up with the arms around him and their talks. But it was always hard to put the emotions he felt during singing into words. His songs were his emotions, his love, his sadness, his words. It was always easier to sing about important things than to tell someone about them.
But then under the sheets, hidden away from the world, he did. He explained it all for hours without end, listening to the other man, telling him what he felt and thought about when he heard his songs. It had been exciting. It had been fantastic.
Nino had thought then it was the one. He would stay. He would make a living there and have started something else. Not an office-job that chance had gone long ago when he had started with his travels, but he had helped behind the scenes of the movies his past lover had starred in. It had been fun, but…
A year. He had managed to stay a year. He had been so young then, thinking that if he just waited long enough and tried hard enough, he would find happiness there. Then the songs had called, the towns had called, and he had seen how things had already changed between them. Nothing was the same as it had been when they met, and Nino had left.
They hadn't fought. They never forgot one another, but both of them, whenever they saw each other, act as if they had never seen each other before-the perfect strangers.
"…go their ways, and the changes are all that remain…"
-
"…please don't ask me to say why I've chosen this way…"
Ohno perked up as the voice reached his ears again. He slowly made his way through the park, searching for the young man he knew the voice belonged to. It seemed too soon for him to be back, while at the same time like an eternity, he had him in his arms the next time.
Just as Ohno had known, then he didn't forget about the boyish smile, the chocolate brown eyes that were mesmerising and the velvet voice that always seemed to sing to him. The voice even more perfect in the silence of his bedroom, Nino being so close and yet so far because Ohno had known Nino would leave again.
He could understand the need to travel, visit new towns, stay a day or two, and go on. The restlessness inside of one when nowhere and everywhere seemed to be home, when everything was remarkable, and the thought of staying at one spot was so hard.
Ohno wanted that life. But he hadn't been able to leave, too worried to leave his family behind, not to be there if something happened and bound by the expectations of society of him. He had learned that expectations that were not there were always just a social construct, he had been too scared to leave behind.
Ohno was not sure what it was that made Nino so interesting, so unique and special. Maybe because his songs awakened that want to travel again. And Ohno was convinced that there was no holding back anymore.
Ohno stepped closer to the man, their eyes met, and there was just the slightest gasp in Nino's voice as his song came to an end. Ohno smiled as he held out his hand.
"I like your song," he said.
"Thank you," Nino answered.
Ohno smiled, his hand didn't weaver as he watched Nino with fond eyes. "It's very hopeful," he added.
Nino finally chuckled and took the offered hands, Ohno tugging him close the seconds the tips of their fingers touched.
"I would say it is a rather sad song," he said, the tease now clear. "A man nowhere at home, always forgotten."
"Things change," Ohno said after a moment, and Nino hummed in understanding as Ohno tugged him even closer to himself to close his lips over Nino's, stopping him from a clear answer.
"May I invite you for a coffee?" Nino asked instead.
Ohno grinned as he nodded. "I'm free all night."
"…and the changes I've seen tell me nothing I know stays the same…"