The Limits (for rezarick)
Title: The Limits
Raiting: R (mild swearing, mild smut)
Genre: Angst
Word count: 8,395
Recipient: rezarick
Summary: Inoo knew Yamada and Yuto better than themselves.
Author's note: Courtney, I'm so sorry I didn't fulfill the psychological/creepy-esque part well, if at all! Gomen ~ But I hope you'll like the ending!
PART 1
On his first look at Yamada Ryosuke, Nakajima Yuto knew the guy was trouble.
As Yamada stood with his head bowed slightly downwards while the teacher introduced him to a (mostly unattentive) class, Yuto could not help but appreciate how his smooth skin seemed to glow in the aura of the sunlight streaming through the windows, or how his brown hair was perfectly mussed upon his head. How his nose curved slightly at the bridge. How his lips tinted in a pink color that belonged to commercials and billboards and posters. How his fingers tapered to a delicate end as he played with a loose thread on his pants.
Yuto did not have a camera with him that day, but he made sure to remember all the finest details: not just Yamada’s features, but also the clothes that he was wearing, for even the buttons on his uniform shone in a different way. The way the background behind him blurred away. The way tiny particles of dust reflected the sunlight, creating a halo around him.
To this day, Yuto could not forget it, the quiet that fell upon the class when the guy stepped into the room - or perhaps it was just Yuto’s own imagination blocking away all the sounds, making his ears refuse to function as his vision worked in overdrive, taking in the beauty of the person before him.
Not even when the signs of danger erupted around him, as Yamada glanced up (from his long eyelashes that surely must be a sin to have) and locked eyes with Yuto, and the look felt (Yuto was sure he did not “think” this, for it was so irrational that it must not have come from his conscious will) full to the brim with defiance. Uncontainable. Wild.
Trouble.
*****
“So? What did you think?” Keito asked, as Yuto handed him a DVD that he borrowed a few weeks ago.
“…”
“Yuto?” Keito hit his best friend’s shoulder. Once. Twice.
“Oh? That? Oh yeah, I really liked it! You know, I think I’ll actually buy a copy for myself. What is the name again? “500 Days of Summer”?”, Yuto more than made up for his previous silence with a rant of words (pronouncing Days as “Deisu”).
Before Keito could add any comments of his own, a yell from within the garage interrupted their conversation:
“Will you guys get in here so that we can start the rehearsal? Inoo-chan is not free all day, you know!”
“I’m not?” asked another voice, trying to be subtle but failing, his question travelling through the half-opened door to the pair standing outside of the garage.
“No he’s not! Keito! Yuto! Hurry, won’t you?” continued the first voice, as if he had not even heard what Inoo just said.
“We’re coming already, Hikaru!” Keito shouted back to the people inside. “Come on, Yuto,” he turned to his friend and signaled him to go in first.
On their entrance, the guy who had been shouting huffed audibly.
“Finally! I finished tuning my bass a million years ago!”
“I’m pretty sure I opened the door for Yuto less than 5 minutes ago,” replied Keito calmly, picking up his guitar and proceeding to check the connection to the amplifier.
“Well, when we say practice is at two o’clock, we mean practice is at two o’clock! Now, what will this band become if no members -“
“Can we just practice?” piped Inoo, looking bored from his position at the keyboard. “I had to wait for an even longer time, if that makes you feel better.”
Hikaru shot Inoo his trademark glare, but did not say anything else.
“Ready? Here we go! Cheesy Love Song Number 3, 3, 2, 1!”
The drum beat started, a reflex to the counts, and then staggered off.
“The song is called Keep You Here! Keep You Here!” Yuto shouted, but the other three pretended not to hear him and kept on playing. Yuto was sure Hikaru even turned the volume of his bass up. Jerk.
Keito looked at him; an amused smirk lingered on his lips. His fingers kept pressing the frets. Inoo was head-banging as if his life depended on it, which made him looked funny as he was bent over an electric organ (which was, admit it, not the most badass instrument in the world.)
Defeated, Yuto turned back to his drum set and started the beat, just in time for Hikaru to enter verse one:
I need to rest these tired eyes
Sleep all the days without you away
And dream I can turn back time
To the days I still see your face.
*****
Yuto threw his school bag on the floor and plopped on his bed. A sigh escaped him, and he was hoping that it would bring with it the sweltering annoyance in his chest, but to no avail.
It was not his fault that he kept writing what Hikaru called “Cheesy Love Song [insert number here]”. Isn’t that what Hikaru himself told him when he first encouraged the younger guy to start writing music? “Write from your heart.”
Well, it was definitely not his fault that his heart functioned like an overly sensitive teenager.
(And overly sensitive he actually was, so maybe it was his fault. He suddenly felt a bout of dizziness that was not usually associated with lying on the bed.)
He realized he was using that excuse again, an excuse so many times rejected by Hikaru (backed with a bored-but-very-sure-of-what-he-was-saying Inoo) because the older guy had said Yuto was just shifting the blame, and worse still he did not even have a target to shift the blame to.
At the word “target”, an image suddenly appeared in his minds’ eyes. Mussed brown hair, pink-tinted lips. Tapered fingers.
Yamada Ryosuke.
Yuto shot upright at the appearance of the name in his head. Could it be that his Cheesy Love Songs writing spree now had a muse with a face, what more, who sat right next to him in class? In fact, he was probably the first one Yamada talked to, when he lent the guy a pen after spotting Yamada looking awkwardly around the class.
“Thank you,” the guy had said, reaching for Yuto’s pen. Their eyes met for half a second - enough for Yuto to memorise their shapes and the way they sparkled - and then Yamada nodded, and turned quickly back to his assignment, his eyes once again covered beneath the tousled bang.
The next day, they were jamming to “Cheesy Love Song Number 10”, which went something like:
One look into your eyes and I know
You could be anything you want, anything you want
But if you just stay here with me
We’ll use these pens and create
A wonderful story just for us.
“Cheesy Love Song Number 14” (Baby you don’t need all these checking / I’m the one you’re meant to be with) was penned after Yuto caught Yamada staring at him in class. “Cheesy Love Song Number 23”, (I’m no artist / but if I can I want to / be the one able to paint your cheeks pink every time), when Yamada was all shy and blushing as he asked Yuto to help with his homework. “Cheesy Love Song Number 17” (But baby, baby, you are my light), when Yuto first saw Yamada smiled.
And the list went on. Hikaru, Inoo and Keito were already past getting annoyed at Yuto’s incessant Cheesy Love Song writing, and in true spirit of “If you can’t beat them, join them”, set up a betting game.
*****
“No fair,” Keito groaned as he dug in his wallet and pulled out a wad of money, which he gave to Inoo. “How the hell are we supposed to guess that “light” refers to a smile?”
“I agree. Does he mean that this girl’s teeth shine? As in, emit light?” added Hikaru, handing Inoo his money as well.
“Well, I think you both don’t have a romantic bone in your body. Unlike me.”, commented Inoo from the other side of the table. He held up the notes he had just won in front of his face and slowly shuffled through them, taunting the two losers by picking at imaginary folds every once in a while.
“He speaks like a person with experience! Pray tell us, Inoo-san, your romance escapades.” Hikaru spoke with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
Inoo remained unfazed. “You don’t need experience to be romantic. Look at Yuto! All Cheesy Love Songs asides, he still hasn’t got a girlfriend. Who is that girl, by the way?”
Both Hikaru and Inoo looked at Keito expectantly.
Keito shrugged. In class, Yuto was not close to anyone in particular. And as much as they pried, the youngest would not give them an answer.
After a while, they gave up trying to find the identity of the mysterious muse.
Yuto had no notice of all the betting and stalking and questioning that had occurred due to his Cheesy Love Songs. He kept sprawling out song after song after song, and after a while the other members just took it as something that should be. Yuto-and-his-Cheesy-Love-Songs.
After all, Yuto was single-handedly responsible for half of their repertoire, and despite teasing him every time he handed them something that went “Baby, baby, sweet darling” (which was everything he handed them), Hikaru, Inoo and Keito were secretly glad.
Especially after that time where Inoo dabbled in lyrics writing and thought “star” and “story” could be a good pun, Hikaru and Keito thought that for Yuto really was their best bet.
*****
Yuto slammed his foot hard down on the pedal of the school drum set. The beater hit the drum surface with a sound that thundered around the music room. Yuto closed his eyes and listened to the echoes surrounding him, feeling the waves rumbling through the sole of his feet and his entire body. It was curiously satisfying, as if all his displeasure had been channeled through that stomp and now dissipated across the room, getting smaller and smaller until it shrank into the vacuum between the air particles.
Hikaru had been late for practice yesterday, and while Inoo and Keito and Yuto were joking around about how the guy was a hypocrite and trying to find an apt punishment when he finally got there, a flustered Hikaru arrived in front of the garage door, looking like he had run all the way across the country. Behind him was Yamada Ryosuke.
“I found us a singer!” Hikaru had announced delightfully, and Keito managed to pull himself from the initial shock to pump his fist in the air in celebration. It was true; they were in desperate need of a singer. They had been alternating lead vocals for a while, but all of them soon found that they belonged to their respective instruments more.
Being the ever graceful house-host, Keito quickly pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder and stepped towards Yamada.
“Hey!” he shook the guy’s hand. “Thanks so much for coming! This is where we usually practice, but on a few days when my father needs the garage we also practice at Hikaru’s house. Come in, careful with the step…,” he guided Yamada through the tricky stairs at the entrance that went deeper than it looked.
Meanwhile Hikaru was ranting off to Inoo and Yuto.
“I needed to discuss something with my form teacher, so I had to stay back. When I passed your classroom -“, here he looked at Yuto, “I heard this amazing voice! And - “
“And you just barged in and pulled him here?” Inoo asked with a smirk, but hidden behind the sarcasm was definitely an enthusiastic tone.
“Well, I did explain to him what kind of music we play and stuff. And I also mentioned Keito and Yuto, so he actually knew some of us already…”
Yuto had already spaced out by this point, his attention focused on Yamada, who was looking around the basement in wonder. Yuto saw his eyes apprised the huge amplifier that Hikaru had insisted they bought, and then slid to Keito’s guitar collection that hung upon the wall. His lips opened slightly in the obvious form of the syllable “Wow”
Somehow that made Yuto want to kick something.
“Do you know how to play any instruments, Yamada?” Keito appeared at the entrance to the basement, bringing with him a glass of water, which he set on a small side table.
“Uhm, no,” Yamada gave a little shake of the head, then blushed. “You guys are so cool.”
“Not really, our songs pretty much suck,” said Inoo. Yuto snapped his head up from his drum set, suddenly afraid that Inoo was going to make a reference to his series of Cheesy Love Songs. He could deal with it any day, but not today.
Thankfully for once Hikaru shared the same concerns with Yuto. Before Inoo could continue, the older guy hit him hard on the forearm, while shooting him a glare that obviously said shut-up-because-I-just-found-us-a-vocalist-and-don’t-you-scare-him-away.
Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Keito picked up the conversation.
“Well, that’s Inoo, he played the keyboard -“ Inoo stopped rubbing the spot where Hikaru had hit him and, changing his faked grimace to an easy grin, waved at Yamada.
“You already knew Hikaru, he played the bass and mean tricks on you when you don’t look.”
“Hey!” Hikaru was half way back to his position when he heard.
Keito ignored the faces Hikaru was making towards him.
“And you already knew Yuto and me. I played the guitar, and Yuto played the drums.” Here Yuto felt obliged to wave at Yamada and mumbled “Hi.”
It was funny, how Yuto always stole glances at Yamada in class, hoping that the guy would talk to him. Or look at him, for that matter. Yet now when they were in a perfect situation for interaction, Yuto felt no urge to talk to Yamada. His stomach had seemingly been replaced by a dead weight that pulled and pulled him down, and he had to use all his willpower to stay upright on the stool. Cold sweat suddenly broke all over him, as if he was in some nightmarish dream. At that moment he wished for nothing but for time to go back and Hikaru had not heard Yamada’s voice.
Yuto’s annoyance grew as the rehearsal proceeded, where Yamada proved that Hikaru had not been wrong in judging his voice. He had not taken any formal lessons, but what he lacked in technique he made up in emotions. The lyrics as sung by Yamada were drenched in sweetness and bitterness and jealousy and heartbreak, states of mind that the guy easily injected in each song as the meaning required. He knew how to control his breath so that he could sound broken in one song and oozing of desire in another, knew how to control his enunciation to give a phrase a seductive drawl or a prolonged vowel an off-tune crack that hinted at fragility and hurt. He sculpted the songs they wrote into new musical pieces, bringing out qualities they did not even know it had. They played songs after songs after songs, Yamada’s vocals both enchanting them and spurring them on with the promise that he would bring something new into their compositions.
“That. Was. Amazing,” said Hikaru, as they - except for Keito - made their way out of the garage, breaking the silence that had gone on since they finished the last song. They had looked at each other, eyes glazed, their breaths heavy. Keito’s fingers were still gripping the fretboard so tightly that now that he had stopped playing, they were starting to shake. Yuto glanced down at his lap and was surprised to see his leg also involuntarily shaking, still poised over the drum pedal.
They did not speak a word as they packed their instruments, nor said goodbye as they left Keito’s house. (Keito himself was staring blankly into space, his guitar still hanging on his shoulder, and probably would not have registered their goodbye anyway.)
“Did you enjoy it? Please tell me you are going to be our vocalist,” said Inoo, always the practical one, as he turned to Yamada.
Yamada nodded and smiled. “I really enjoyed it. Do you practice every day? You guys are very good.”
“We usually practice every Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday,” replied Inoo. “But if you are busy on any day…” he quickly added.
“Ok. Same time?”
“Yup,” Inoo answered, hardly able to contain his excitement.
“Sure. I’ll come here next Saturday then. Oh, here’s my turn. Bye bye!” With that Yamada ducked into a small alley on the right that was barely visible.
Inoo waved until his figure disappeared behind a corner, then turned back - only to be greeted with an emotional and ranting Hikaru.
“Yes yes yes yes yes yes! Yes! Yes! This, I can tell you my friend, is the first step to our success! When people write about our band in the future, this will be the day that one whole chapter is dedicated to! This is it! This is it!”
“He really is amazing, isn’t he, Yuto?”, Inoo said as he struggled to disentangle his arm from a clingy Hikaru, who was still mouthing “yes yes yes yes yes” as they walked along the street.
“Of course he is.”
“Why are you so grumbly?”
“I’m not grumbly,” answered Yuto. He tried again, this time making a greater effort to exude excitement. “He is amazing.”
Inoo raised his eyebrow, but did not continue pressing the point.
Yuto could not put a finger on the exact nature of what was nagging him inside. He meant what he said, that of course Yamada’s singing voice was amazing. He knew, and he certainly did not need Hikaru to tell him that.
Cheesy Love Song Number 19
You are no angel
But you don’t need wings
Your voice soars higher than I can see
Don’t leave me, take me with you.
Yuto banged the drums, hard, trying to drown out the voices in his head. Admit it, you don’t like the thought of everyone knowing about Yamada’s voice, said one. Yuto hit the cymbal, stressing his response.
“No.”
Another quipped in, but you do, you do, you’ve always thought it was something that only you have, and no one should have access to.
“No.” He spoke again. A roll on the snare drum.
You possessive, obsessive person, you, came another. Yuto could imagine it wagging a finger in his face.
He launched into one of his drum solo and each accent sounded like a “NO” and he played until the beat count in his head became NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, and then even the beats blurred together and he was surrounded by a chorus of NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO -
“YUTO-KUN!” The voice sounded a millimeter from his left ear, piercing through the dull wall of sound he had put up.
He started, his drum sticks paused in mid-air.
“Yamada? Sorry, I didn’t notice. I was - “
“Banging the drums so loudly that it could be heard from the opposite side of the school?”
“Usually nobody is around at this hour,” answered Yuto.
“Hey, I don’t mind,” Yamada raised both his hand in defense.
Their eyes met for a second, and the brown in Yamada’s made Yuto felt a tightening in his throat. It was as if somebody had turned up the temperature of the room by ten degrees, and Yuto suddenly became conscious of his own body, how his arms hung clumsily by the side, his legs positioning at an uncomfortable angle. He had the bizarre sensation of wanting to be more and yet wishing to take up less space at the same time.
“Uhm…” Yuto cleared his throat. “I should really get back to practice now.”
Yamada’s eyes widened, his lips rising to a half-smile. “Can I practice with you?” The guy twirled a strand of his bang, tucking it back to place. He batted his eyelashes, once. Then licked his lips, showing the smallest amount of tongue.
Really, this guy.
Yuto could feel his heart and his sanity going on overdrive and becoming undone, but he did nothing to salvage the pieces. Nor did he pay any attention to the small voice at the back of his head, warning him of a set up. A trap.
When he opened his mouth, it was a hoarse voice that was not his own.
“S-sure.”
Then he cleared his throat loudly, as if by doing so can undo the traitorous syllable his mouth had just uttered. He kept his eyes on the drums as he spoke, more to himself than to Yamada:
“How about Breaking the Limits?” - He nearly called it Cheesy Love Song Number 8, Hikaru was getting to him - “Here we go, 1, 2, 3, 4!”
He launched into his drum parts. Frankly, he had chosen this song only because his part was right at the start of the song. And it was loud enough too, and he had hoped to build up some sort of sound wall, a fort behind which he could hide from the figure of Yamada Ryosuke that was invading every nook of his thoughts, something loud enough to drown out all the voices in his head -
He felt a presence behind him, but the wall that he had built became the very restraints that he could not break in time to react, and before he could do anything, a pair of arms encircled his neck, and Yamada’s lips were on him.
His drumsticks dropped.
The fort had fallen, shattering around him pieces of bricks and glasses and peeled paint. Crash. Crash. Crash. Humphry Dumphry took a great fall. London Bridge is falling down. Fall. Fall. We all fall down.
Yamada’s kiss deepened, and Yuto’s mind became a mess of ecstatic white noise.
PART 2
Yuto thought Hikaru, Inoo and Keito took the news extremely well. They were even sensitive enough to not mention how the Cheesy Love Songs series must have stemmed from Yamada.
Not that Yamada did not know. Sometimes Yuto had the feeling that the guy knew more than he let on, and a month of being his “boyfriend” could not change how little he actually knew about what Yamada was thinking. Nor could two months. Three. Four. A year. A year and a month.
By Yuto’s last year at high school (a year and four months), their band had achieved some success. They played local gigs, at cafés, underground bars, park festivals. Put out a limited-edition CD (500 copies). Once they opened for an underground punk band.
Yuto could not help but think that most opportunities they got were due to Yamada. Over the summer holidays, Yamada took singing lessons, and now his emotive voice were supported by solid techniques that were like wings on which their songs soar and fly, reaching to the heart of anyone listening. Every time Yamada started singing, the audience would grow quiet, and behind his drums Yuto would feel his heart swell with pride. He wanted to scream at the audience: “That guy you are falling in love with, that’s my boyfriend, and only I can have him, and you can’t!”
The thing was, Yuto was not sure if he actually “have” Yamada or not. What was more obvious was that Yamada had him, owned him, every little part of him. After 2 weeks of dating, Yuto was sure Yamada was the most possessive person he had ever met. Yamada would purse his lips every time Yuto became friendly with someone he did not know. He tightened his hand holding Yuto’s whenever they passed by someone he felt threatened by - which was almost everyone they passed by on the street. Yuto maintained a distance from everyone, because one thing he could never bear is Yamada’s eyes swimming with tears. Yamada never showed his jealousy, but for Yuto a drooping of the corners of his mouth, a lost in the sparkle of his eyes was the worse punishment than any shouting or arguing. And at once his heart would be set on doing anything to make Yamada happy again, to bring his smiling and shining Yamada back.
Which was why Yuto was going to his boyfriend’s house at 9pm, while they had a test tomorrow. Thankfully his brother still owed him from the time Yuto covered for his coming home late, and agreed to return the favour this time.
He stood in front of Yamada’s house, huddled in his thick jacket, hesitant to press the doorbell. Now he suddenly felt very stupid. He had never met Yamada’s parents, and he was pretty sure going to their house at 9pm was a way to endear him to them. He was about to call Yamada when the chain unlocked and the door creaked open.
Yamada looked exhausted, his eyes puffy, his hair a complete mess. Yuto wanted to hug him, but felt it would not be appropriate, and exchanged the action of affection with an “Are you OK?” which he tried to make as caring as possible.
“Oh, yeah,” Yamada answered absent-mindedly. “Come in. My friend is here.” This last sentence he mumbled in the general direction of the hallway.
In response was just an angry, harsh shout, muffled by a door at the end of the hall. Then a sound that was very similar to someone banging his fist on the wall.
“My room is up here,” Yamada said, leading Yuto upstairs. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about tomorrow’s test.”
Yuto could not help but glance at the door. “Sure.”
Yamada’s room was a light pastel yellow, with windows framed in white looking out at a football field, which must have been the stage for some exciting games during the day, but at night it looked hauntingly deserted. The room was small, but extremely neat, except for a pile of notes and textbooks scattered in the middle of the room.
“Here,” Yamada plopped down on a cushion near the pile of notes, and pulled out a piece of paper. “I could never seem to get this one right.”
Just then, a sound of glass hitting a hard surface and breaking rang through the room.
Yamada kept a straight face, “I thought at first, it was like this, but then it was not correct. Then I thought it was like this, but it was not either - “
His sentence was cut short by a second, even longer crash. Yuto was pretty sure an entire collection of china must have been destroyed. He did not know what to do.
Yamada closed his eyes, battling the emotions trying to surface.
And was cut short, once again, by shouting, now penetrating through the thickness of the walls, reaching them:
“Then let’s take it to court! See who they would give Ryosuke too!”
“Obviously me, who had taken care of him ever since he was born, when you went off with … with … whoever!”
“Oh, and you took such good care of him too huh! The boy was in therapy while you were off with - “
“Shut up! You liar! At least I was trying to support a family!”
At this point Yamada reached over and grabbed a remote. He pressed a button, and the stereo started playing a loud, noisy rock song. Yamada pushed the volume to the max.
“Never mind them. They’ve been at it for a while.”
“I don’t think I should be here.”
“No! Don’t leave!” For the first time in his life he heard panic in Yamada Ryosuke’s voice. It struck a chord in him, to hear his Yamada, who always had it together, sound so broken.
“Well, surely we could not study anymore,” he attempted a joke to lighten the mood, which he found inappropriate the very moment it escaped his mouth.
Fortunately Yamada seemed to enjoy the humour. “Yup”, the older guy said, clearing the notes off the table. Then Yamada scooted over to Yuto’s side, leaning his head on Yuto’s shoulder. Yuto circled his arm around Yamada. They sat there in silence, listening to the stereo. The singer screamed:
Three words from you
That will decide my fate
Whether I live or die
Angel, you hold the gate.
Suddenly, Yuto was all too aware of how Yamada was breathing against his neck. His arm instinctively tightened around the older guy’s shoulder.
Then it all happened too fast, and they were entangled with kisses and touches in places that only belonged to each other. Their hands could not get enough of each other’s body, their lips not enough of each other’s skin. In their ears rang only love moans, the sound from the stereo turned down to a muffle to match the shouting behind the door.
And then they could feel themselves sinking under, feel all that used to exist in their world disappear, until they themselves disappeared as well, their whole body melting, melting into a jumble of lips and fingers and hands.
In a rare flutter of awareness, Yuto found himself pinned down on the futon by Yamada. He had tried to roll over, but Yamada pushed him further down.
“Please,” the older boy whispered. “Let me.” His lips were red, puffy, his eyes half-closed.
And Yuto allowed himself to be pulled under again, losing himself in the chaos of emotions Yamada was making him feel. But not before he reached for Yamada’s wrist, and felt secured in the sensation that their heart were beating in the same time.
*****
The beginning of the end started as soon as they finished their final exam papers, and Inoo was the first to notice it.
“This is not OK,” he had said, cornering Yuto after one practice. Hikaru and Keito stood quiet by his side, and it was from this that Yuto had an inkling of how serious the situation must be.
“What?” Yuto asked, for he really did not know.
“You and Yamada, and whatever you guys have between you.”
“Don’t say this is about the rule where band members don’t date. Haven’t we proved that that did not apply to us? It’s been more than a year, Inoo,” defended Yuto.
“Your drumming’s been off these days,” Hikaru spoke up from the side.
“It’s not - “
“The beat, the rhythm, all wrong. And you know it, don’t lie,” Hikaru accused. “You know you’re struggling to just feel it. I see it in your face. What kind of drummer fumbles with his own drumsticks?” His voice broke, sounding close to tears, his eyes staring resolutely at a spot on the floor, as if determined not to look at Yuto.
“Hika-“ Yuto started, alarmed.
“Look, Yuto. I’m not going to stand there and look on as you two destroy each other and poison this band,” said Inoo.
Yuto stared at him incredulously. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to bring him into this? This has nothing to do with Yamada!”
“Cheesy Love Song Number 33
I love everything about you,
But the thing I love the most,
Is how everything seems possible,
And how my life starts with you.” Keito quoted.
Yuto met eyes with his best friend and they both understood exactly what the other was thinking.
“That film did not end well, didn’t it?” Keito mumbled, not as a challenge, but more as a … sign of regret? Defeat? Acceptance?
“It’s different! It’s not like - like I’m obsessed with him or anything -” Yuto defended weakly.
“Well, excuse me when I beg to differ!” exploded Hikaru. “Have you seen your songs lately? Then you drop your drumsticks, you get distracted every time he starts singing, you screwed practice because he did not want to go, you even refuse to let him meet fans, you - “
“Hey, that guy was eyeing him weirdly!” Yuto slipped into his easy grin, hoping that the conversation would turn into some joking around, which he could handle.
“Maybe you should take a break from the band a little while,” Inoo said, and the words pierced through Yuto’s heart, more painful than all the accusations he had heard from his friends.
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“We all have problems which are best dealt with on our own.”
A pause. The tension rising was almost palpable. Yuto suddenly felt his head clear and calm, as if somebody had blown a bubble up around him, separating him from the rest of the world. And then…
“Fine. Fine. How about we make it not a break, shall we?” Yuto pushed himself from the wall on which he had been leaning, and walked to where he had laid his stuff. He was determined not to meet Keito’s eyes.
“I. QUIT!” With that he swung his backpack upon his back, and walked straight out the door.
He had wanted them to chase after him, taking back all the hurtful words they had thrown his way. But no such luck, and Yuto dragged his feet all alone back to his house, where he promptly threw himself on the bed, feeling as if his insides had been ripped out from him.
*****
The only comfort for Yuto was that Yamada, upon hearing his quitting, decided to quit the band as well. They met up for coffee the next day. Yuto did not know whether to apologise to Yamada or thank him. He decided to settle on an “I’m sorry,” to which Yamada said “My own decision.” Then they sipped their drinks and remained quiet.
Before coming, Yuto had mustered all the confidence he had to be prepared to ask Yamada about their former bandmates’ accusation of how he was obsessed with the older guy (to which he still maintained that he was not.) But now, faced with Yamada himself, he found his willpower to clear the doubts fading with every second.
Yamada was just too beautiful. Yuto loved how his bangs touched the corner of his right eye, and every time he turned sharply the hair would be fly a bit away from its position. He loved how Yamada would fuss around with it afterwards, placing it back to the same place. He loved how Yamada’s nose crinkled as he took the first sip of his coffee. He loved his hands, thin and tapered, encircling the cup, loved how his neck strained to look out of the window. He loved how Yamada had an aura around him that lighted up his surroundings wherever he went.
Yamada suddenly turned towards him.
“Actually, I - I have an audition.”
“What?” Yuto snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, I was zoning out.”
Yamada did not seem annoyed by it at all. In fact, he was even more embarrassed. His cheeks reddened, and he played with his sleeves. Cute, thought Yuto.
“The last gig we played, some scout from an agency approached me. Said I could get signed, asked me to go to an audition.”
“That’s - that’s great!” Yuto let out a gasp. “When is it?”
“But it’s only for me, he made it clear enough! And it doesn’t feel right if I go on stage without you guys!” Yamada protested.
“Well it wouldn’t feel right if you pass up this chance. It’s our dream, right? The ultimate dream. Though right now I can’t say I can speak on behalf of the other three.” This last part he added bitterly.
Yamada did not continue the conversation, and they fell silent again.
After a while, Yamada said: “We’ll audition together. I’m not singing without you. We’ll audition as a duo.”
Yamada’s eyes said “And I won’t take no for an answer,” but Yuto never meant to say no from the start. He had never been able to do so when it came to Yamada, ever since the time the guy found him in the music room at school and kissed him into his world.
*****
It was weird rehearsing without Hikaru, Inoo and Keito, but they managed to work something out. Yamada had picked up how to play the guitar from Keito, and while it was not the full on pop rock band that they were used to due to the lack of Hikaru’s bass, Yuto hoped Yamada’s voice would make up for what was missing. Two days before the scheduled audition, they had managed to compile a decent repertoire, consisting mostly of Yuto’s old songs. They had wanted to do original songs, but only could finish a ballad number that Yamada wrote the lyrics for. Yuto had already prepared a plan to convince the producers (if they auditioned successfully, and could to put out an album) to wait for them to finish more original songs. The last thing he wanted was a clash of the legal type with his old friends.
It turned out that Yuto had been worrying in vain, because a week after the audition, a letter came from the agency. Yamada brought it to Yuto when they met at their usual café: only the older guy had been chosen.
Yuto scanned through the letter, then glanced up at Yamada. He could read nothing from his blank face.
Yuto folded the letter back into the envelope and thrusted it back into Yamada’s hand. He stood up.
“Please tell me you’re going to accept the offer.”
Yamada looked up at him, but said nothing. Yuto tried to search for some signs in his brown eyes that could be used as indications of what he was thinking, but as usual they were clouded in mystery.
“I really have to get back. I got a few furniture deliveries coming this afternoon.”
*****
Yuto was woken up in the middle of the night by a knock on the door.
At first, he thought he was dreaming. He had just moved out to be closer to his university, and had not told a lot of people about this address yet. If it was house-warming guests, then they sure had a very bizarre sense of humour, as it was less than 4 minutes to midnight.
The knocking continued incessantly. Yuto raised himself from the futon, called out a sleepy “coming”, then looked through the peephole.
He unlocked the door quickly.
“I’m not signing with them,” said Yamada immediately when he saw Yuto.
“It’s 12 in the morning.”
“I’m not signing with them.” Yamada repeated, then pushed the suitcase behind him forward. “Can I stay here with you? I’m moving out.”
Speechless, Yuto could do nothing but open the door wider for the older guy to enter.
After Yamada had put down his things at a corner of the room, they settled on Yuto’s futon, Yamada’s head resting on Yuto’s outstretched arm in lieu of a pillow.
“I’m not signing with them,” repeated Yamada for the 3rd time. He touched Yuto’s face. “I’m not.”
“I know,” answered Yuto. “Why?” Yuto added after some thoughts.
When Yamada did not answer, Yuto glanced down to find the older guy having fallen asleep, snuggling closer to him. Yuto stroked his hair gently.
“You can’t just barge into somebody’s house and tell them you’re staying, Yama-chan.”
*****
If anything, Yamada was resourceful. By the third week of them staying together, he had set them up for a small performance at an underground bar. For a while, Yuto thought they were slipping back to their old routines: School in the morning (Yuto had insisted that Yamada attend a college), gigs at night. Far from being bored, Yuto liked every day of it - especially because it allowed them to always be together, and he liked that.
Except when they had fights, such as the time Yamada had insisted that they stayed back at the bar they were playing.
“We have nothing to do here!” Yuto had shouted in the back room.
“We can mingle with the audience! Perhaps some of them have a job offer for us!” Yamada had shouted back.
“Job offer my a--! Have you seen how some of them look at you? We’re leaving,” Yuto answered, trying to be as resolute as he could.
Yamada huffed, but Yuto won this time.
*****
The longer they stayed together, the less Yuto wanted Yamada to get out of his sight. It was as if he was afraid that Yamada would change the moment somebody else laid eyes on him. Yuto had insisted that Yamada wait until he came to pick him up at the university every day. Refused his meetings with adoring fans. He slammed the door into the face of a guy who claimed to be Yamada’s classmate, giving the reason that he looked too shifty.
They made love on every surface possible in the house.
Once Yuto woke up with his vision all groggy and unfocused. He tried to lift his arms to get out of the futon. No use.
Through his bleary eyes he could make out Yamada’s figure at the door, talking to someone.
“I think Yuto caught a cold today, sorry he couldn’t come to the class meeting with you.”
“Who was that?”, Yuto slurred - he had not meant to, it was the effect of his condition - when Yamada had closed the door.
“Your classmate, I think.”
“Damn - I’m supposed to go to the class meeting!”, Yuto tried to raise himself up again, but were forced down - this time not only by the exhaustion that was running through his body, but also by Yamada.
“No you don’t,” the older boy said, pushing his lips onto Yuto’s, straddling his body. As Yamada’s hand explored the stretch of skin beneath his shirt and started moving lower, Yuto found himself caring less and less about the class meeting. The only thing he cared about was Yamada pressing on him, Yamada moaning his name, and him swallowing the sounds that Yamada’s lips were making, fumbling, hasty, greedy, like they had never done this a million times before.
It became part of their routine, how they tried to dominate each other, keeping each other in check. School in the morning, gigs at night. Power games consuming them both
Soon Yuto learned how to control Yamada with his lips (a peck on the older guy’s lips, then moving down to his neck, sucking and nibbling, never arriving at his lips again) and his hands (one at the small of his back, the other, the right pressure, speed) and his entire body (the exact way to make the older guy collapsed into a moaning hot mess).
Yuto could not go to his family reunion, tied to his chair as Yamada smothered him in kisses and touches.
Yamada missing an appointment, held back by a Yuto who was determined to make him explode.
Again and again, they were locked in a struggle, both of them wanting to win, neither willing to give up.
PART 3
Just as he did not know when his obsession with Yamada began, Yuto did know when it ended, either.
Correction: he knew when it ended, just not how.
They had been watching one of Yamada’s favorite movies, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” Yamada had fallen asleep on his lap.
And suddenly Yuto realized the craziness of their situation.
The human mind worked in curious ways: he realized it not when Inoo warned him, not during one of those sessions where they tried to overpower each other, but at a time where nothing could hint at how fucked up their relationship was.
Yamada sleeping on his lap, they were watching a movie: Isn’t that the image of a perfect couple? It had nothing to do with their power plays, their mind games, their domination tactics that had poisoned their lives.
Yet Yuto’s mind had decided at that very moment to make sense of his life and how messed up it had been ever since it was entangled with Yamada’s.
How messed up both their lives had been entangled with each other.
We all had problems better dealt with on our own. Inoo was right. But that sentence also meant: “Don’t assign others yours.”
Don’t assign others yours.
Yuto carefully slid out from underneath Yamada, replacing his lap with a pillow. He wanted to cry, but when he found no tears were forthcoming, simply sighed and walked to his study desk. He pulled out a piece of paper and pen, and scribbled a note.
As he wrote, he waited for tears, but still no. His dry face reflected in the window looked at him mockingly.
After placing the note on the dining table, where Yamada would surely see it when he woke up, Yuto picked up his backpack, and gently opened the door. He was greeted by a breeze of night air.
He turned to look at Yamada once again, and upon seeing his angelic face, felt the curious sensation of being both light and heavy at the same time. Yuto was almost tempted to enter the house again, tore up the note, and lay next to Yamada until morning came.
But he shoved his sadness to a corner of his mind, and walked on, trudging down the stairs and away from Yamada Ryosuke.
*****
JEIANEI, INC. TO DEBUT NEW IDOL THIS MAY: YAMADA RYOSUKE!!!
THE FIRST JEIANEI ARTIST TO DEBUT WITHOUT A TRAINING PERIOD!
Yamada Ryosuke, 18, is becoming the talk of the entertainment industry as the first Jeianei, Inc. idol to debut immediately upon entering the agency.
Jeianei, Inc., the agency behind some of the most famous idol acts, has always maintained a tradition of a compulsory training period for new artists, in order for them to secure a fan base even before their debut. Yet with the unexpected announcement of a new idol debut this May, Jeianei, Inc. is going against the tradition. Is this too risky?
Takizawa Hideaki, a representative from Jeianei, and a former Jeianei idol himself, answered:
“We believe that Yamada-san will succeed. He is a special case - although he had not had any training with us, he had worked with a band and performed in underground venues before. His experience and skills on stage require little further training, and I have no doubt that he will manage to capture fans’ hearts. The fact that he writes his own songs would also be a great selling point.”
Yamada Ryosuke-san’s debut mini-album, The Limits, hits the store on May 23rd. The tracklist is as follow:
[Bonus Track] Thirteen Hours and Twenty-nine Minutes
*****
IDOL SENSATION YAMADA RYOSUKE QUITS!
After hitting gold with his debut mini-album, The Limits, which spawned popular singles The Limits (peaking at #3) and Stop Playing (You and Me) (peaking at #2), Yamada Ryosuke has been reported to terminate his contract with his agency, Jeianei, Inc.
In a press conference this morning, a Jeianei representative explains:
“It was a peacefully negotiated termination. Yamada-san has private businesses to attend to, and could no longer focus on his work as an idol.”
To allegations that the former idol had gotten too quick a step to fame and engaged in behaviors that breached the contract, the representative says:
“We can assure you that there is no such thing. Yamada-san is responsible, both in his idol work as well as in his private life. We hope that you will respect his desire for privacy.”
Yamada-san is not available for comments.
*****
4 years later
Yuto stepped out of his office, his hand pulling his collar away from his neck to alleviate the strain. It was summer, and he would have gone straight back home and turn on the air-con to escape the heat, but today he wanted to visit the local music shop first.
He did not have to look long to find what he wanted, consider how he was almost hit in the face by a huge banner: “T-OY’s album out today!”
“T-OY” - he had never stopped feeling amused at the name. Probably an idea from Hikaru.
They looked to be having the time of their lives on the cover: Hikaru, Inoo, Keito, and the new vocalist, Takaki Yuya, who they recruited some time after Yuto and Yamada left. 2 years ago they were finally signed to a record label, and from then on it was history. They sold out concert venues after concert venues, rocketing to stardom, even representing the country in international awards.
Yuto heard there were even plans for a commemorative comprehensive biography next year, on their 5th anniversary.
As he queued to pay for the album, his eyes were attracted to a drum kit behind a window showcase. It was almost the same as the one he used to play.
He allowed himself to flirt with the idea of applying to be T-OY’s drummer - they did not have a permanent drummer, opting to hire a new one each tour - for a while, then shook his head out of such fantasy. He had not played for more than 4 years. Music for him now only existed in the pre-packaged, pre-mixed form, in CDs and DVDs and YouTube videos.
Yuto exited the shop, walked to the intersection and waited for the green light.
Isn’t that - ? He could not believe his eyes at first.
But it really looked like him, and Yuto was so used to the silhouette that it was unlikely that he made the wrong judgment. Mussed brown hair, smooth skin, tinted lips. His mind slowly ticked off the checklist. Nose curved slightly at the bridge, checked.
The aura that diminished everything surrounding him, checked.
He looked good (like he had always done), despite the suit and tie outfit Yuto would never have expected Yamada to wear.
Is this a sign? T-OY’s album, the drum kit, now him?
The green light had turned on, and the guy turned to cross the road from the opposite side of Yuto.
Yuto heaved his suitcase, and made a U-turn. He would take another bus back home.
Raiting: R (mild swearing, mild smut)
Genre: Angst
Word count: 8,395
Recipient: rezarick
Summary: Inoo knew Yamada and Yuto better than themselves.
Author's note: Courtney, I'm so sorry I didn't fulfill the psychological/creepy-esque part well, if at all! Gomen ~ But I hope you'll like the ending!
PART 1
On his first look at Yamada Ryosuke, Nakajima Yuto knew the guy was trouble.
As Yamada stood with his head bowed slightly downwards while the teacher introduced him to a (mostly unattentive) class, Yuto could not help but appreciate how his smooth skin seemed to glow in the aura of the sunlight streaming through the windows, or how his brown hair was perfectly mussed upon his head. How his nose curved slightly at the bridge. How his lips tinted in a pink color that belonged to commercials and billboards and posters. How his fingers tapered to a delicate end as he played with a loose thread on his pants.
Yuto did not have a camera with him that day, but he made sure to remember all the finest details: not just Yamada’s features, but also the clothes that he was wearing, for even the buttons on his uniform shone in a different way. The way the background behind him blurred away. The way tiny particles of dust reflected the sunlight, creating a halo around him.
To this day, Yuto could not forget it, the quiet that fell upon the class when the guy stepped into the room - or perhaps it was just Yuto’s own imagination blocking away all the sounds, making his ears refuse to function as his vision worked in overdrive, taking in the beauty of the person before him.
Not even when the signs of danger erupted around him, as Yamada glanced up (from his long eyelashes that surely must be a sin to have) and locked eyes with Yuto, and the look felt (Yuto was sure he did not “think” this, for it was so irrational that it must not have come from his conscious will) full to the brim with defiance. Uncontainable. Wild.
Trouble.
*****
“So? What did you think?” Keito asked, as Yuto handed him a DVD that he borrowed a few weeks ago.
“…”
“Yuto?” Keito hit his best friend’s shoulder. Once. Twice.
“Oh? That? Oh yeah, I really liked it! You know, I think I’ll actually buy a copy for myself. What is the name again? “500 Days of Summer”?”, Yuto more than made up for his previous silence with a rant of words (pronouncing Days as “Deisu”).
Before Keito could add any comments of his own, a yell from within the garage interrupted their conversation:
“Will you guys get in here so that we can start the rehearsal? Inoo-chan is not free all day, you know!”
“I’m not?” asked another voice, trying to be subtle but failing, his question travelling through the half-opened door to the pair standing outside of the garage.
“No he’s not! Keito! Yuto! Hurry, won’t you?” continued the first voice, as if he had not even heard what Inoo just said.
“We’re coming already, Hikaru!” Keito shouted back to the people inside. “Come on, Yuto,” he turned to his friend and signaled him to go in first.
On their entrance, the guy who had been shouting huffed audibly.
“Finally! I finished tuning my bass a million years ago!”
“I’m pretty sure I opened the door for Yuto less than 5 minutes ago,” replied Keito calmly, picking up his guitar and proceeding to check the connection to the amplifier.
“Well, when we say practice is at two o’clock, we mean practice is at two o’clock! Now, what will this band become if no members -“
“Can we just practice?” piped Inoo, looking bored from his position at the keyboard. “I had to wait for an even longer time, if that makes you feel better.”
Hikaru shot Inoo his trademark glare, but did not say anything else.
“Ready? Here we go! Cheesy Love Song Number 3, 3, 2, 1!”
The drum beat started, a reflex to the counts, and then staggered off.
“The song is called Keep You Here! Keep You Here!” Yuto shouted, but the other three pretended not to hear him and kept on playing. Yuto was sure Hikaru even turned the volume of his bass up. Jerk.
Keito looked at him; an amused smirk lingered on his lips. His fingers kept pressing the frets. Inoo was head-banging as if his life depended on it, which made him looked funny as he was bent over an electric organ (which was, admit it, not the most badass instrument in the world.)
Defeated, Yuto turned back to his drum set and started the beat, just in time for Hikaru to enter verse one:
I need to rest these tired eyes
Sleep all the days without you away
And dream I can turn back time
To the days I still see your face.
*****
Yuto threw his school bag on the floor and plopped on his bed. A sigh escaped him, and he was hoping that it would bring with it the sweltering annoyance in his chest, but to no avail.
It was not his fault that he kept writing what Hikaru called “Cheesy Love Song [insert number here]”. Isn’t that what Hikaru himself told him when he first encouraged the younger guy to start writing music? “Write from your heart.”
Well, it was definitely not his fault that his heart functioned like an overly sensitive teenager.
(And overly sensitive he actually was, so maybe it was his fault. He suddenly felt a bout of dizziness that was not usually associated with lying on the bed.)
He realized he was using that excuse again, an excuse so many times rejected by Hikaru (backed with a bored-but-very-sure-of-what-he-was-saying Inoo) because the older guy had said Yuto was just shifting the blame, and worse still he did not even have a target to shift the blame to.
At the word “target”, an image suddenly appeared in his minds’ eyes. Mussed brown hair, pink-tinted lips. Tapered fingers.
Yamada Ryosuke.
Yuto shot upright at the appearance of the name in his head. Could it be that his Cheesy Love Songs writing spree now had a muse with a face, what more, who sat right next to him in class? In fact, he was probably the first one Yamada talked to, when he lent the guy a pen after spotting Yamada looking awkwardly around the class.
“Thank you,” the guy had said, reaching for Yuto’s pen. Their eyes met for half a second - enough for Yuto to memorise their shapes and the way they sparkled - and then Yamada nodded, and turned quickly back to his assignment, his eyes once again covered beneath the tousled bang.
The next day, they were jamming to “Cheesy Love Song Number 10”, which went something like:
One look into your eyes and I know
You could be anything you want, anything you want
But if you just stay here with me
We’ll use these pens and create
A wonderful story just for us.
“Cheesy Love Song Number 14” (Baby you don’t need all these checking / I’m the one you’re meant to be with) was penned after Yuto caught Yamada staring at him in class. “Cheesy Love Song Number 23”, (I’m no artist / but if I can I want to / be the one able to paint your cheeks pink every time), when Yamada was all shy and blushing as he asked Yuto to help with his homework. “Cheesy Love Song Number 17” (But baby, baby, you are my light), when Yuto first saw Yamada smiled.
And the list went on. Hikaru, Inoo and Keito were already past getting annoyed at Yuto’s incessant Cheesy Love Song writing, and in true spirit of “If you can’t beat them, join them”, set up a betting game.
*****
“No fair,” Keito groaned as he dug in his wallet and pulled out a wad of money, which he gave to Inoo. “How the hell are we supposed to guess that “light” refers to a smile?”
“I agree. Does he mean that this girl’s teeth shine? As in, emit light?” added Hikaru, handing Inoo his money as well.
“Well, I think you both don’t have a romantic bone in your body. Unlike me.”, commented Inoo from the other side of the table. He held up the notes he had just won in front of his face and slowly shuffled through them, taunting the two losers by picking at imaginary folds every once in a while.
“He speaks like a person with experience! Pray tell us, Inoo-san, your romance escapades.” Hikaru spoke with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
Inoo remained unfazed. “You don’t need experience to be romantic. Look at Yuto! All Cheesy Love Songs asides, he still hasn’t got a girlfriend. Who is that girl, by the way?”
Both Hikaru and Inoo looked at Keito expectantly.
Keito shrugged. In class, Yuto was not close to anyone in particular. And as much as they pried, the youngest would not give them an answer.
After a while, they gave up trying to find the identity of the mysterious muse.
Yuto had no notice of all the betting and stalking and questioning that had occurred due to his Cheesy Love Songs. He kept sprawling out song after song after song, and after a while the other members just took it as something that should be. Yuto-and-his-Cheesy-Love-Songs.
After all, Yuto was single-handedly responsible for half of their repertoire, and despite teasing him every time he handed them something that went “Baby, baby, sweet darling” (which was everything he handed them), Hikaru, Inoo and Keito were secretly glad.
Especially after that time where Inoo dabbled in lyrics writing and thought “star” and “story” could be a good pun, Hikaru and Keito thought that for Yuto really was their best bet.
*****
Yuto slammed his foot hard down on the pedal of the school drum set. The beater hit the drum surface with a sound that thundered around the music room. Yuto closed his eyes and listened to the echoes surrounding him, feeling the waves rumbling through the sole of his feet and his entire body. It was curiously satisfying, as if all his displeasure had been channeled through that stomp and now dissipated across the room, getting smaller and smaller until it shrank into the vacuum between the air particles.
Hikaru had been late for practice yesterday, and while Inoo and Keito and Yuto were joking around about how the guy was a hypocrite and trying to find an apt punishment when he finally got there, a flustered Hikaru arrived in front of the garage door, looking like he had run all the way across the country. Behind him was Yamada Ryosuke.
“I found us a singer!” Hikaru had announced delightfully, and Keito managed to pull himself from the initial shock to pump his fist in the air in celebration. It was true; they were in desperate need of a singer. They had been alternating lead vocals for a while, but all of them soon found that they belonged to their respective instruments more.
Being the ever graceful house-host, Keito quickly pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder and stepped towards Yamada.
“Hey!” he shook the guy’s hand. “Thanks so much for coming! This is where we usually practice, but on a few days when my father needs the garage we also practice at Hikaru’s house. Come in, careful with the step…,” he guided Yamada through the tricky stairs at the entrance that went deeper than it looked.
Meanwhile Hikaru was ranting off to Inoo and Yuto.
“I needed to discuss something with my form teacher, so I had to stay back. When I passed your classroom -“, here he looked at Yuto, “I heard this amazing voice! And - “
“And you just barged in and pulled him here?” Inoo asked with a smirk, but hidden behind the sarcasm was definitely an enthusiastic tone.
“Well, I did explain to him what kind of music we play and stuff. And I also mentioned Keito and Yuto, so he actually knew some of us already…”
Yuto had already spaced out by this point, his attention focused on Yamada, who was looking around the basement in wonder. Yuto saw his eyes apprised the huge amplifier that Hikaru had insisted they bought, and then slid to Keito’s guitar collection that hung upon the wall. His lips opened slightly in the obvious form of the syllable “Wow”
Somehow that made Yuto want to kick something.
“Do you know how to play any instruments, Yamada?” Keito appeared at the entrance to the basement, bringing with him a glass of water, which he set on a small side table.
“Uhm, no,” Yamada gave a little shake of the head, then blushed. “You guys are so cool.”
“Not really, our songs pretty much suck,” said Inoo. Yuto snapped his head up from his drum set, suddenly afraid that Inoo was going to make a reference to his series of Cheesy Love Songs. He could deal with it any day, but not today.
Thankfully for once Hikaru shared the same concerns with Yuto. Before Inoo could continue, the older guy hit him hard on the forearm, while shooting him a glare that obviously said shut-up-because-I-just-found-us-a-vocalist-and-don’t-you-scare-him-away.
Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Keito picked up the conversation.
“Well, that’s Inoo, he played the keyboard -“ Inoo stopped rubbing the spot where Hikaru had hit him and, changing his faked grimace to an easy grin, waved at Yamada.
“You already knew Hikaru, he played the bass and mean tricks on you when you don’t look.”
“Hey!” Hikaru was half way back to his position when he heard.
Keito ignored the faces Hikaru was making towards him.
“And you already knew Yuto and me. I played the guitar, and Yuto played the drums.” Here Yuto felt obliged to wave at Yamada and mumbled “Hi.”
It was funny, how Yuto always stole glances at Yamada in class, hoping that the guy would talk to him. Or look at him, for that matter. Yet now when they were in a perfect situation for interaction, Yuto felt no urge to talk to Yamada. His stomach had seemingly been replaced by a dead weight that pulled and pulled him down, and he had to use all his willpower to stay upright on the stool. Cold sweat suddenly broke all over him, as if he was in some nightmarish dream. At that moment he wished for nothing but for time to go back and Hikaru had not heard Yamada’s voice.
Yuto’s annoyance grew as the rehearsal proceeded, where Yamada proved that Hikaru had not been wrong in judging his voice. He had not taken any formal lessons, but what he lacked in technique he made up in emotions. The lyrics as sung by Yamada were drenched in sweetness and bitterness and jealousy and heartbreak, states of mind that the guy easily injected in each song as the meaning required. He knew how to control his breath so that he could sound broken in one song and oozing of desire in another, knew how to control his enunciation to give a phrase a seductive drawl or a prolonged vowel an off-tune crack that hinted at fragility and hurt. He sculpted the songs they wrote into new musical pieces, bringing out qualities they did not even know it had. They played songs after songs after songs, Yamada’s vocals both enchanting them and spurring them on with the promise that he would bring something new into their compositions.
“That. Was. Amazing,” said Hikaru, as they - except for Keito - made their way out of the garage, breaking the silence that had gone on since they finished the last song. They had looked at each other, eyes glazed, their breaths heavy. Keito’s fingers were still gripping the fretboard so tightly that now that he had stopped playing, they were starting to shake. Yuto glanced down at his lap and was surprised to see his leg also involuntarily shaking, still poised over the drum pedal.
They did not speak a word as they packed their instruments, nor said goodbye as they left Keito’s house. (Keito himself was staring blankly into space, his guitar still hanging on his shoulder, and probably would not have registered their goodbye anyway.)
“Did you enjoy it? Please tell me you are going to be our vocalist,” said Inoo, always the practical one, as he turned to Yamada.
Yamada nodded and smiled. “I really enjoyed it. Do you practice every day? You guys are very good.”
“We usually practice every Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday,” replied Inoo. “But if you are busy on any day…” he quickly added.
“Ok. Same time?”
“Yup,” Inoo answered, hardly able to contain his excitement.
“Sure. I’ll come here next Saturday then. Oh, here’s my turn. Bye bye!” With that Yamada ducked into a small alley on the right that was barely visible.
Inoo waved until his figure disappeared behind a corner, then turned back - only to be greeted with an emotional and ranting Hikaru.
“Yes yes yes yes yes yes! Yes! Yes! This, I can tell you my friend, is the first step to our success! When people write about our band in the future, this will be the day that one whole chapter is dedicated to! This is it! This is it!”
“He really is amazing, isn’t he, Yuto?”, Inoo said as he struggled to disentangle his arm from a clingy Hikaru, who was still mouthing “yes yes yes yes yes” as they walked along the street.
“Of course he is.”
“Why are you so grumbly?”
“I’m not grumbly,” answered Yuto. He tried again, this time making a greater effort to exude excitement. “He is amazing.”
Inoo raised his eyebrow, but did not continue pressing the point.
Yuto could not put a finger on the exact nature of what was nagging him inside. He meant what he said, that of course Yamada’s singing voice was amazing. He knew, and he certainly did not need Hikaru to tell him that.
Cheesy Love Song Number 19
You are no angel
But you don’t need wings
Your voice soars higher than I can see
Don’t leave me, take me with you.
Yuto banged the drums, hard, trying to drown out the voices in his head. Admit it, you don’t like the thought of everyone knowing about Yamada’s voice, said one. Yuto hit the cymbal, stressing his response.
“No.”
Another quipped in, but you do, you do, you’ve always thought it was something that only you have, and no one should have access to.
“No.” He spoke again. A roll on the snare drum.
You possessive, obsessive person, you, came another. Yuto could imagine it wagging a finger in his face.
He launched into one of his drum solo and each accent sounded like a “NO” and he played until the beat count in his head became NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, NO, 2, 3, 4, and then even the beats blurred together and he was surrounded by a chorus of NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO -
“YUTO-KUN!” The voice sounded a millimeter from his left ear, piercing through the dull wall of sound he had put up.
He started, his drum sticks paused in mid-air.
“Yamada? Sorry, I didn’t notice. I was - “
“Banging the drums so loudly that it could be heard from the opposite side of the school?”
“Usually nobody is around at this hour,” answered Yuto.
“Hey, I don’t mind,” Yamada raised both his hand in defense.
Their eyes met for a second, and the brown in Yamada’s made Yuto felt a tightening in his throat. It was as if somebody had turned up the temperature of the room by ten degrees, and Yuto suddenly became conscious of his own body, how his arms hung clumsily by the side, his legs positioning at an uncomfortable angle. He had the bizarre sensation of wanting to be more and yet wishing to take up less space at the same time.
“Uhm…” Yuto cleared his throat. “I should really get back to practice now.”
Yamada’s eyes widened, his lips rising to a half-smile. “Can I practice with you?” The guy twirled a strand of his bang, tucking it back to place. He batted his eyelashes, once. Then licked his lips, showing the smallest amount of tongue.
Really, this guy.
Yuto could feel his heart and his sanity going on overdrive and becoming undone, but he did nothing to salvage the pieces. Nor did he pay any attention to the small voice at the back of his head, warning him of a set up. A trap.
When he opened his mouth, it was a hoarse voice that was not his own.
“S-sure.”
Then he cleared his throat loudly, as if by doing so can undo the traitorous syllable his mouth had just uttered. He kept his eyes on the drums as he spoke, more to himself than to Yamada:
“How about Breaking the Limits?” - He nearly called it Cheesy Love Song Number 8, Hikaru was getting to him - “Here we go, 1, 2, 3, 4!”
He launched into his drum parts. Frankly, he had chosen this song only because his part was right at the start of the song. And it was loud enough too, and he had hoped to build up some sort of sound wall, a fort behind which he could hide from the figure of Yamada Ryosuke that was invading every nook of his thoughts, something loud enough to drown out all the voices in his head -
He felt a presence behind him, but the wall that he had built became the very restraints that he could not break in time to react, and before he could do anything, a pair of arms encircled his neck, and Yamada’s lips were on him.
His drumsticks dropped.
The fort had fallen, shattering around him pieces of bricks and glasses and peeled paint. Crash. Crash. Crash. Humphry Dumphry took a great fall. London Bridge is falling down. Fall. Fall. We all fall down.
Yamada’s kiss deepened, and Yuto’s mind became a mess of ecstatic white noise.
PART 2
Yuto thought Hikaru, Inoo and Keito took the news extremely well. They were even sensitive enough to not mention how the Cheesy Love Songs series must have stemmed from Yamada.
Not that Yamada did not know. Sometimes Yuto had the feeling that the guy knew more than he let on, and a month of being his “boyfriend” could not change how little he actually knew about what Yamada was thinking. Nor could two months. Three. Four. A year. A year and a month.
By Yuto’s last year at high school (a year and four months), their band had achieved some success. They played local gigs, at cafés, underground bars, park festivals. Put out a limited-edition CD (500 copies). Once they opened for an underground punk band.
Yuto could not help but think that most opportunities they got were due to Yamada. Over the summer holidays, Yamada took singing lessons, and now his emotive voice were supported by solid techniques that were like wings on which their songs soar and fly, reaching to the heart of anyone listening. Every time Yamada started singing, the audience would grow quiet, and behind his drums Yuto would feel his heart swell with pride. He wanted to scream at the audience: “That guy you are falling in love with, that’s my boyfriend, and only I can have him, and you can’t!”
The thing was, Yuto was not sure if he actually “have” Yamada or not. What was more obvious was that Yamada had him, owned him, every little part of him. After 2 weeks of dating, Yuto was sure Yamada was the most possessive person he had ever met. Yamada would purse his lips every time Yuto became friendly with someone he did not know. He tightened his hand holding Yuto’s whenever they passed by someone he felt threatened by - which was almost everyone they passed by on the street. Yuto maintained a distance from everyone, because one thing he could never bear is Yamada’s eyes swimming with tears. Yamada never showed his jealousy, but for Yuto a drooping of the corners of his mouth, a lost in the sparkle of his eyes was the worse punishment than any shouting or arguing. And at once his heart would be set on doing anything to make Yamada happy again, to bring his smiling and shining Yamada back.
Which was why Yuto was going to his boyfriend’s house at 9pm, while they had a test tomorrow. Thankfully his brother still owed him from the time Yuto covered for his coming home late, and agreed to return the favour this time.
He stood in front of Yamada’s house, huddled in his thick jacket, hesitant to press the doorbell. Now he suddenly felt very stupid. He had never met Yamada’s parents, and he was pretty sure going to their house at 9pm was a way to endear him to them. He was about to call Yamada when the chain unlocked and the door creaked open.
Yamada looked exhausted, his eyes puffy, his hair a complete mess. Yuto wanted to hug him, but felt it would not be appropriate, and exchanged the action of affection with an “Are you OK?” which he tried to make as caring as possible.
“Oh, yeah,” Yamada answered absent-mindedly. “Come in. My friend is here.” This last sentence he mumbled in the general direction of the hallway.
In response was just an angry, harsh shout, muffled by a door at the end of the hall. Then a sound that was very similar to someone banging his fist on the wall.
“My room is up here,” Yamada said, leading Yuto upstairs. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about tomorrow’s test.”
Yuto could not help but glance at the door. “Sure.”
Yamada’s room was a light pastel yellow, with windows framed in white looking out at a football field, which must have been the stage for some exciting games during the day, but at night it looked hauntingly deserted. The room was small, but extremely neat, except for a pile of notes and textbooks scattered in the middle of the room.
“Here,” Yamada plopped down on a cushion near the pile of notes, and pulled out a piece of paper. “I could never seem to get this one right.”
Just then, a sound of glass hitting a hard surface and breaking rang through the room.
Yamada kept a straight face, “I thought at first, it was like this, but then it was not correct. Then I thought it was like this, but it was not either - “
His sentence was cut short by a second, even longer crash. Yuto was pretty sure an entire collection of china must have been destroyed. He did not know what to do.
Yamada closed his eyes, battling the emotions trying to surface.
And was cut short, once again, by shouting, now penetrating through the thickness of the walls, reaching them:
“Then let’s take it to court! See who they would give Ryosuke too!”
“Obviously me, who had taken care of him ever since he was born, when you went off with … with … whoever!”
“Oh, and you took such good care of him too huh! The boy was in therapy while you were off with - “
“Shut up! You liar! At least I was trying to support a family!”
At this point Yamada reached over and grabbed a remote. He pressed a button, and the stereo started playing a loud, noisy rock song. Yamada pushed the volume to the max.
“Never mind them. They’ve been at it for a while.”
“I don’t think I should be here.”
“No! Don’t leave!” For the first time in his life he heard panic in Yamada Ryosuke’s voice. It struck a chord in him, to hear his Yamada, who always had it together, sound so broken.
“Well, surely we could not study anymore,” he attempted a joke to lighten the mood, which he found inappropriate the very moment it escaped his mouth.
Fortunately Yamada seemed to enjoy the humour. “Yup”, the older guy said, clearing the notes off the table. Then Yamada scooted over to Yuto’s side, leaning his head on Yuto’s shoulder. Yuto circled his arm around Yamada. They sat there in silence, listening to the stereo. The singer screamed:
Three words from you
That will decide my fate
Whether I live or die
Angel, you hold the gate.
Suddenly, Yuto was all too aware of how Yamada was breathing against his neck. His arm instinctively tightened around the older guy’s shoulder.
Then it all happened too fast, and they were entangled with kisses and touches in places that only belonged to each other. Their hands could not get enough of each other’s body, their lips not enough of each other’s skin. In their ears rang only love moans, the sound from the stereo turned down to a muffle to match the shouting behind the door.
And then they could feel themselves sinking under, feel all that used to exist in their world disappear, until they themselves disappeared as well, their whole body melting, melting into a jumble of lips and fingers and hands.
In a rare flutter of awareness, Yuto found himself pinned down on the futon by Yamada. He had tried to roll over, but Yamada pushed him further down.
“Please,” the older boy whispered. “Let me.” His lips were red, puffy, his eyes half-closed.
And Yuto allowed himself to be pulled under again, losing himself in the chaos of emotions Yamada was making him feel. But not before he reached for Yamada’s wrist, and felt secured in the sensation that their heart were beating in the same time.
*****
The beginning of the end started as soon as they finished their final exam papers, and Inoo was the first to notice it.
“This is not OK,” he had said, cornering Yuto after one practice. Hikaru and Keito stood quiet by his side, and it was from this that Yuto had an inkling of how serious the situation must be.
“What?” Yuto asked, for he really did not know.
“You and Yamada, and whatever you guys have between you.”
“Don’t say this is about the rule where band members don’t date. Haven’t we proved that that did not apply to us? It’s been more than a year, Inoo,” defended Yuto.
“Your drumming’s been off these days,” Hikaru spoke up from the side.
“It’s not - “
“The beat, the rhythm, all wrong. And you know it, don’t lie,” Hikaru accused. “You know you’re struggling to just feel it. I see it in your face. What kind of drummer fumbles with his own drumsticks?” His voice broke, sounding close to tears, his eyes staring resolutely at a spot on the floor, as if determined not to look at Yuto.
“Hika-“ Yuto started, alarmed.
“Look, Yuto. I’m not going to stand there and look on as you two destroy each other and poison this band,” said Inoo.
Yuto stared at him incredulously. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you have to bring him into this? This has nothing to do with Yamada!”
“Cheesy Love Song Number 33
I love everything about you,
But the thing I love the most,
Is how everything seems possible,
And how my life starts with you.” Keito quoted.
Yuto met eyes with his best friend and they both understood exactly what the other was thinking.
“That film did not end well, didn’t it?” Keito mumbled, not as a challenge, but more as a … sign of regret? Defeat? Acceptance?
“It’s different! It’s not like - like I’m obsessed with him or anything -” Yuto defended weakly.
“Well, excuse me when I beg to differ!” exploded Hikaru. “Have you seen your songs lately? Then you drop your drumsticks, you get distracted every time he starts singing, you screwed practice because he did not want to go, you even refuse to let him meet fans, you - “
“Hey, that guy was eyeing him weirdly!” Yuto slipped into his easy grin, hoping that the conversation would turn into some joking around, which he could handle.
“Maybe you should take a break from the band a little while,” Inoo said, and the words pierced through Yuto’s heart, more painful than all the accusations he had heard from his friends.
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“We all have problems which are best dealt with on our own.”
A pause. The tension rising was almost palpable. Yuto suddenly felt his head clear and calm, as if somebody had blown a bubble up around him, separating him from the rest of the world. And then…
“Fine. Fine. How about we make it not a break, shall we?” Yuto pushed himself from the wall on which he had been leaning, and walked to where he had laid his stuff. He was determined not to meet Keito’s eyes.
“I. QUIT!” With that he swung his backpack upon his back, and walked straight out the door.
He had wanted them to chase after him, taking back all the hurtful words they had thrown his way. But no such luck, and Yuto dragged his feet all alone back to his house, where he promptly threw himself on the bed, feeling as if his insides had been ripped out from him.
*****
The only comfort for Yuto was that Yamada, upon hearing his quitting, decided to quit the band as well. They met up for coffee the next day. Yuto did not know whether to apologise to Yamada or thank him. He decided to settle on an “I’m sorry,” to which Yamada said “My own decision.” Then they sipped their drinks and remained quiet.
Before coming, Yuto had mustered all the confidence he had to be prepared to ask Yamada about their former bandmates’ accusation of how he was obsessed with the older guy (to which he still maintained that he was not.) But now, faced with Yamada himself, he found his willpower to clear the doubts fading with every second.
Yamada was just too beautiful. Yuto loved how his bangs touched the corner of his right eye, and every time he turned sharply the hair would be fly a bit away from its position. He loved how Yamada would fuss around with it afterwards, placing it back to the same place. He loved how Yamada’s nose crinkled as he took the first sip of his coffee. He loved his hands, thin and tapered, encircling the cup, loved how his neck strained to look out of the window. He loved how Yamada had an aura around him that lighted up his surroundings wherever he went.
Yamada suddenly turned towards him.
“Actually, I - I have an audition.”
“What?” Yuto snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, I was zoning out.”
Yamada did not seem annoyed by it at all. In fact, he was even more embarrassed. His cheeks reddened, and he played with his sleeves. Cute, thought Yuto.
“The last gig we played, some scout from an agency approached me. Said I could get signed, asked me to go to an audition.”
“That’s - that’s great!” Yuto let out a gasp. “When is it?”
“But it’s only for me, he made it clear enough! And it doesn’t feel right if I go on stage without you guys!” Yamada protested.
“Well it wouldn’t feel right if you pass up this chance. It’s our dream, right? The ultimate dream. Though right now I can’t say I can speak on behalf of the other three.” This last part he added bitterly.
Yamada did not continue the conversation, and they fell silent again.
After a while, Yamada said: “We’ll audition together. I’m not singing without you. We’ll audition as a duo.”
Yamada’s eyes said “And I won’t take no for an answer,” but Yuto never meant to say no from the start. He had never been able to do so when it came to Yamada, ever since the time the guy found him in the music room at school and kissed him into his world.
*****
It was weird rehearsing without Hikaru, Inoo and Keito, but they managed to work something out. Yamada had picked up how to play the guitar from Keito, and while it was not the full on pop rock band that they were used to due to the lack of Hikaru’s bass, Yuto hoped Yamada’s voice would make up for what was missing. Two days before the scheduled audition, they had managed to compile a decent repertoire, consisting mostly of Yuto’s old songs. They had wanted to do original songs, but only could finish a ballad number that Yamada wrote the lyrics for. Yuto had already prepared a plan to convince the producers (if they auditioned successfully, and could to put out an album) to wait for them to finish more original songs. The last thing he wanted was a clash of the legal type with his old friends.
It turned out that Yuto had been worrying in vain, because a week after the audition, a letter came from the agency. Yamada brought it to Yuto when they met at their usual café: only the older guy had been chosen.
Yuto scanned through the letter, then glanced up at Yamada. He could read nothing from his blank face.
Yuto folded the letter back into the envelope and thrusted it back into Yamada’s hand. He stood up.
“Please tell me you’re going to accept the offer.”
Yamada looked up at him, but said nothing. Yuto tried to search for some signs in his brown eyes that could be used as indications of what he was thinking, but as usual they were clouded in mystery.
“I really have to get back. I got a few furniture deliveries coming this afternoon.”
*****
Yuto was woken up in the middle of the night by a knock on the door.
At first, he thought he was dreaming. He had just moved out to be closer to his university, and had not told a lot of people about this address yet. If it was house-warming guests, then they sure had a very bizarre sense of humour, as it was less than 4 minutes to midnight.
The knocking continued incessantly. Yuto raised himself from the futon, called out a sleepy “coming”, then looked through the peephole.
He unlocked the door quickly.
“I’m not signing with them,” said Yamada immediately when he saw Yuto.
“It’s 12 in the morning.”
“I’m not signing with them.” Yamada repeated, then pushed the suitcase behind him forward. “Can I stay here with you? I’m moving out.”
Speechless, Yuto could do nothing but open the door wider for the older guy to enter.
After Yamada had put down his things at a corner of the room, they settled on Yuto’s futon, Yamada’s head resting on Yuto’s outstretched arm in lieu of a pillow.
“I’m not signing with them,” repeated Yamada for the 3rd time. He touched Yuto’s face. “I’m not.”
“I know,” answered Yuto. “Why?” Yuto added after some thoughts.
When Yamada did not answer, Yuto glanced down to find the older guy having fallen asleep, snuggling closer to him. Yuto stroked his hair gently.
“You can’t just barge into somebody’s house and tell them you’re staying, Yama-chan.”
*****
If anything, Yamada was resourceful. By the third week of them staying together, he had set them up for a small performance at an underground bar. For a while, Yuto thought they were slipping back to their old routines: School in the morning (Yuto had insisted that Yamada attend a college), gigs at night. Far from being bored, Yuto liked every day of it - especially because it allowed them to always be together, and he liked that.
Except when they had fights, such as the time Yamada had insisted that they stayed back at the bar they were playing.
“We have nothing to do here!” Yuto had shouted in the back room.
“We can mingle with the audience! Perhaps some of them have a job offer for us!” Yamada had shouted back.
“Job offer my a--! Have you seen how some of them look at you? We’re leaving,” Yuto answered, trying to be as resolute as he could.
Yamada huffed, but Yuto won this time.
*****
The longer they stayed together, the less Yuto wanted Yamada to get out of his sight. It was as if he was afraid that Yamada would change the moment somebody else laid eyes on him. Yuto had insisted that Yamada wait until he came to pick him up at the university every day. Refused his meetings with adoring fans. He slammed the door into the face of a guy who claimed to be Yamada’s classmate, giving the reason that he looked too shifty.
They made love on every surface possible in the house.
Once Yuto woke up with his vision all groggy and unfocused. He tried to lift his arms to get out of the futon. No use.
Through his bleary eyes he could make out Yamada’s figure at the door, talking to someone.
“I think Yuto caught a cold today, sorry he couldn’t come to the class meeting with you.”
“Who was that?”, Yuto slurred - he had not meant to, it was the effect of his condition - when Yamada had closed the door.
“Your classmate, I think.”
“Damn - I’m supposed to go to the class meeting!”, Yuto tried to raise himself up again, but were forced down - this time not only by the exhaustion that was running through his body, but also by Yamada.
“No you don’t,” the older boy said, pushing his lips onto Yuto’s, straddling his body. As Yamada’s hand explored the stretch of skin beneath his shirt and started moving lower, Yuto found himself caring less and less about the class meeting. The only thing he cared about was Yamada pressing on him, Yamada moaning his name, and him swallowing the sounds that Yamada’s lips were making, fumbling, hasty, greedy, like they had never done this a million times before.
It became part of their routine, how they tried to dominate each other, keeping each other in check. School in the morning, gigs at night. Power games consuming them both
Soon Yuto learned how to control Yamada with his lips (a peck on the older guy’s lips, then moving down to his neck, sucking and nibbling, never arriving at his lips again) and his hands (one at the small of his back, the other, the right pressure, speed) and his entire body (the exact way to make the older guy collapsed into a moaning hot mess).
Yuto could not go to his family reunion, tied to his chair as Yamada smothered him in kisses and touches.
Yamada missing an appointment, held back by a Yuto who was determined to make him explode.
Again and again, they were locked in a struggle, both of them wanting to win, neither willing to give up.
PART 3
Just as he did not know when his obsession with Yamada began, Yuto did know when it ended, either.
Correction: he knew when it ended, just not how.
They had been watching one of Yamada’s favorite movies, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” Yamada had fallen asleep on his lap.
And suddenly Yuto realized the craziness of their situation.
The human mind worked in curious ways: he realized it not when Inoo warned him, not during one of those sessions where they tried to overpower each other, but at a time where nothing could hint at how fucked up their relationship was.
Yamada sleeping on his lap, they were watching a movie: Isn’t that the image of a perfect couple? It had nothing to do with their power plays, their mind games, their domination tactics that had poisoned their lives.
Yet Yuto’s mind had decided at that very moment to make sense of his life and how messed up it had been ever since it was entangled with Yamada’s.
How messed up both their lives had been entangled with each other.
We all had problems better dealt with on our own. Inoo was right. But that sentence also meant: “Don’t assign others yours.”
Don’t assign others yours.
Yuto carefully slid out from underneath Yamada, replacing his lap with a pillow. He wanted to cry, but when he found no tears were forthcoming, simply sighed and walked to his study desk. He pulled out a piece of paper and pen, and scribbled a note.
As he wrote, he waited for tears, but still no. His dry face reflected in the window looked at him mockingly.
After placing the note on the dining table, where Yamada would surely see it when he woke up, Yuto picked up his backpack, and gently opened the door. He was greeted by a breeze of night air.
He turned to look at Yamada once again, and upon seeing his angelic face, felt the curious sensation of being both light and heavy at the same time. Yuto was almost tempted to enter the house again, tore up the note, and lay next to Yamada until morning came.
But he shoved his sadness to a corner of his mind, and walked on, trudging down the stairs and away from Yamada Ryosuke.
*****
JEIANEI, INC. TO DEBUT NEW IDOL THIS MAY: YAMADA RYOSUKE!!!
THE FIRST JEIANEI ARTIST TO DEBUT WITHOUT A TRAINING PERIOD!
Yamada Ryosuke, 18, is becoming the talk of the entertainment industry as the first Jeianei, Inc. idol to debut immediately upon entering the agency.
Jeianei, Inc., the agency behind some of the most famous idol acts, has always maintained a tradition of a compulsory training period for new artists, in order for them to secure a fan base even before their debut. Yet with the unexpected announcement of a new idol debut this May, Jeianei, Inc. is going against the tradition. Is this too risky?
Takizawa Hideaki, a representative from Jeianei, and a former Jeianei idol himself, answered:
“We believe that Yamada-san will succeed. He is a special case - although he had not had any training with us, he had worked with a band and performed in underground venues before. His experience and skills on stage require little further training, and I have no doubt that he will manage to capture fans’ hearts. The fact that he writes his own songs would also be a great selling point.”
Yamada Ryosuke-san’s debut mini-album, The Limits, hits the store on May 23rd. The tracklist is as follow:
- The Limits
- My Life Starts With You
- Keep On! Keep On!
- Stop Playing (You and Me)
[Bonus Track] Thirteen Hours and Twenty-nine Minutes
*****
IDOL SENSATION YAMADA RYOSUKE QUITS!
After hitting gold with his debut mini-album, The Limits, which spawned popular singles The Limits (peaking at #3) and Stop Playing (You and Me) (peaking at #2), Yamada Ryosuke has been reported to terminate his contract with his agency, Jeianei, Inc.
In a press conference this morning, a Jeianei representative explains:
“It was a peacefully negotiated termination. Yamada-san has private businesses to attend to, and could no longer focus on his work as an idol.”
To allegations that the former idol had gotten too quick a step to fame and engaged in behaviors that breached the contract, the representative says:
“We can assure you that there is no such thing. Yamada-san is responsible, both in his idol work as well as in his private life. We hope that you will respect his desire for privacy.”
Yamada-san is not available for comments.
*****
4 years later
Yuto stepped out of his office, his hand pulling his collar away from his neck to alleviate the strain. It was summer, and he would have gone straight back home and turn on the air-con to escape the heat, but today he wanted to visit the local music shop first.
He did not have to look long to find what he wanted, consider how he was almost hit in the face by a huge banner: “T-OY’s album out today!”
“T-OY” - he had never stopped feeling amused at the name. Probably an idea from Hikaru.
They looked to be having the time of their lives on the cover: Hikaru, Inoo, Keito, and the new vocalist, Takaki Yuya, who they recruited some time after Yuto and Yamada left. 2 years ago they were finally signed to a record label, and from then on it was history. They sold out concert venues after concert venues, rocketing to stardom, even representing the country in international awards.
Yuto heard there were even plans for a commemorative comprehensive biography next year, on their 5th anniversary.
As he queued to pay for the album, his eyes were attracted to a drum kit behind a window showcase. It was almost the same as the one he used to play.
He allowed himself to flirt with the idea of applying to be T-OY’s drummer - they did not have a permanent drummer, opting to hire a new one each tour - for a while, then shook his head out of such fantasy. He had not played for more than 4 years. Music for him now only existed in the pre-packaged, pre-mixed form, in CDs and DVDs and YouTube videos.
Yuto exited the shop, walked to the intersection and waited for the green light.
Isn’t that - ? He could not believe his eyes at first.
But it really looked like him, and Yuto was so used to the silhouette that it was unlikely that he made the wrong judgment. Mussed brown hair, smooth skin, tinted lips. His mind slowly ticked off the checklist. Nose curved slightly at the bridge, checked.
The aura that diminished everything surrounding him, checked.
He looked good (like he had always done), despite the suit and tie outfit Yuto would never have expected Yamada to wear.
Is this a sign? T-OY’s album, the drum kit, now him?
The green light had turned on, and the guy turned to cross the road from the opposite side of Yuto.
Yuto heaved his suitcase, and made a U-turn. He would take another bus back home.