Remix of ryogrande's "No Photo Contents"
Title: A picture's worth a thousand … (the it's-so-magical remix)
Rating: G
Group/Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Warnings: AU
Notes: Ri, I really enjoyed the original and even though you had SO MUCH TO CHOOSE from, I kept being drawn to this one. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox. <3 (A few sentences were taken directly from the original.)
Link to Original Story: No Photo Contents
Link to Original Writer: ryogrande
Shige couldn't decide whether it was a gift or a curse. His opinion fluctuated daily with his mood. Right this moment he was firmly in the middle, holding his recently developed photograph gingerly between two fingers, afraid to let it draw him in.
It had started two years ago in New York. If Shige were being honest with himself, it had been going on a long time before that, but he could be stubborn about things like this. About most things, actually, but particularly about matters of the heart. Because it was through those pictures that he found his gift. Or, you know, his curse.
He and Koyama had met twenty years ago, when Shige was four and had fallen off the curb and into the path of an oncoming bicycle. Frozen with fear, Shige could do nothing but close his eyes and wait for the crash. And the crash came, but in sound only, and when he opened his eyes, the older boy (who would introduce himself as Koyama Keiichiro with teary eyes as Shige's mom smoothed bandaids over skinned knees) was in a tumbled heap three feet away. They'd been inseparable ever since.
As these things sometimes go, Shige had slowly fallen in love with his best friend. And as these things often go, he was too frightened to do anything about it.
Two years ago, in celebration of Shige's recent graduation, they'd saved up their money and spent it on a trip to New York City. Shige, still new to the world of photography, but old to the world of unrequited love, had taken roll after roll of photos of everything, but mostly Koyama. The trip by itself had been its own sort of magic; the two of them on their own in the big city with only Shige's admittedly poor English to get them along and that just made it like their own little world. A bit of tranquility amid the break-neck speed of NYC. They'd spent much of their days separate - but their nights together, the wall of pillows between them unable to keep them completely apart.
But the real magic was yet to come.
Once Shige had returned home he'd developed the photos carefully, and left them to dry, almost afraid to look at them because they were more honest than he was - nearly every one of them had Koyama in. In fact he left them all week, avoiding even looking at the door to his darkroom until late Saturday night after a few beers and a romantic comedy he'd never confess to watching.
The truth hit him hard enough to translate to physicality and he stumbled into the middle of the small room, Koyama's face all around him and he admitted to no one in particular that he had a problem. Licking his lips, he grasped a photo between his fingers and unclipped it from the string, staring at the New York winter scene: It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to stick, but that didn’t stop the flurries from falling and causing a lens flare. Sporadic spots surrounded Koyama’s face like an aura made of fireflies, highlighting his features and the hope in his eyes.
The only thing that glowed brighter was Koyama’s smile.
And that's when it had happened; sudden cold whips across his cheekbones, something warm and fluffy wrapped around his neck not quite enough to fight the chill. And Koyama is right there, smiling at him. For him.
"Shige," Koyama says, breathless from running, still smiling. "Shige, I have something to tell you."
Shige's breath catches in his throat and he chokes out, "What? If you have something to say, say it." He sounds irritable but he knows it's only a bluff to hide his nervousness.
"Okay," Koyama says, still grinning and jogs over to sit down next to him on the bench, scooting close enough that they touch all along their sides. But he's silent for a while anyway. Then he turns to face him, tugs Shige's gloved hand out of his pocket and takes it in between his, and says, "I'm so in love with you."
Shige's breath catches again, but then Koyama's lips are on his and he's not sure who moved first, but he thinks it might have been him. He doesn't think about the media getting wind of two male idols making out in Central Park, and if he had, he would probably would have been glad for the first time in his life that he wasn't as popular as other Johnny's; all he thinks about is Koyama's wind-chapped lips warming up against his, and the smile he can feel without seeing.
And just like that he was back in his darkroom, shaking of cold and happiness and, yes, maybe of shock because it suddenly hit him that none of it was real. They're not in New York, they're certainly not idols, and the warmth in his apartment just made the contrast sharper. Whoever that was, it wasn't him. The cold he felt inside was easily attributed to disappointment. He packed the rest of the photos up without even looking at them.
One month later the box sat on his bed, Shige staring suspiciously at it before tipping the lid off and reaching for the topmost photo. He couldn't forget the smile or the hope or the way the snow had created a halo around Koyama's face. He couldn't forget the confession or the kiss. But stare though he might, nothing happened. Not that he hadn't expected this. Of course not. His imagination had gotten the best of him. So what. With a sigh he put it aside and pulled out the next. He hadn't bothered neatly arranging the photos, and the next one was actually from the first day of a different trip, just outside the airport waiting for a taxi; the angle reminded him that they'd both held a side of the camera, and part of his own face is cut off, making sure Koyama is in the picture and -
he laughs. They laugh, Koyama's giggle all high and nasal even as Shige warns him not to break his camera. It's only a small group of friends with them, but still they crowd together into the small van, the two of them pressed unbearably close. Koyama smiles at Shige as he slings an arm over his shoulder, and Shige's heart increases to double time, he swears.
"Get off," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders, but Koyama just takes one of Shige's hands in his and squeezes tight. The warmth isn't just from overcrowding. Shige's been looking forward to this camping trip for weeks. Not because he likes camping, because he doesn't, but because he and Koyama are sharing a tent because no one else wants to deal with Koyama's snoring. The tent is very small. He smiles stupidly and Koyama pokes him in the cheek.
The day passes quickly even though Shige gets grumpy trying to set up the tent because Koyama keeps getting tangled in it, and Koyama shoves Shige into the lake and it's way too cold for that, especially since the sun's gone down. So he's shivering in the tent when Koyama clambers in smelling like campfire smoke and settles down next to him.
"Are you sleeping?" Koyama whispers, barely audible over the rustling of his sleeping bag.
"No."
"…Are you mad?"
"No."
"…Are you still cold?"
He's not, really, but he says yes anyway, mostly to see what Koyama's reaction is. There's the plastic crinkling of the sleeping bag again and Koyama is slipping into Shige's with him, wrapping skinny arms around Shige's body and snuggling close, his cold nose pressing against the back of Shige's neck and warm breath puffing against his skin.
"Koyama," Shige says, voice suddenly hoarse.
Koyama hums inquisitively and wiggles a little. Shige's not sure what he intended to say; he's frozen, Koyama's slim fingers resting just below his ribcage, and then he's suddenly burning up.
"'S'hot," he finally mutters and Koyama hums distractedly.
"Shige," Koyama finally whispers, breath tickling Shige's neck and making him shiver. "Can I tell you something important?"
Just a whisper but it feels so heavy and Shige's just as suddenly cold. "Go ahead," he whispers back.
There's a rustling and Koyama pulls away enough to tug Shige onto his back, looking down at him. Shige can barely make out his face in the flickering firelight through their tent, Koyama's lower lip nervously held between his teeth before he releases it to speak. "I'm so in love with you."
They stare at one another for a moment before Koyama leans down and presses their lips together. It doesn't take long for Shige to wrap his arms around Koyama's neck and tug him down.
~*~
Shige couldn't figure out if he was either crazy or magic, and he didn't really care. Each photo gave him a little extra time with Koyama in a world that was so similar and yet so different from his own. In these other worlds, Koyama confessed - over and over in every scenario imaginable. But each photo was like a one-use ticket. He could never go back. And every look into these alternate realities just made him want Koyama more. They were perfect together. Shouldn't knowing make it easier?
But it didn't.
"Shige," Koyama sang, skipping through the house with Shige's spare key dangling noisily from his fingers. "Shige, where are you?"
Shige felt the slight trembling of the floor beneath his futon, Koyama's approaching footsteps, and then the blanket was tugged off him.
"Shige," Koyama pouted. Shige could hear it in his voice. "You didn't answer your phone. We were supposed to meet for breakfast. I had to fend off that slutty waitress all by myself."
He had to open his eyes to roll them at his best friend. "Yeah because you hate that." Koyama always insisted on that place for breakfast and Shige couldn't bear one more day of watching her flirt outrageously with Koyama. So he'd 'fallen back asleep.'
A sly grin spread across Koyama's face. "It's much more fun when you're there, though."
"Yes… I know how you love an audience," he mumbled and struggled to sit up, running his hands through his undeniable bed head. He sniffed. "You smell good." He did… Shige wasn't just saying it even though he loved the way Koyama smelled pretty much always. Today he smelled like -
"I brought you pancakes," Koyama replied with a nod toward Shige's desk where a styrofoam container shimmered invitingly in the sunlight.
"I love you," Shige blurted, hiding his flaming cheeks by rolling out of bed and going straight for the breakfast goodies.
"Love you, too," Koyama said easily, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs along the floor. "But what's up with you lately?"
Shige's head whipped around, cheeks stuffed with delicious pancakes and he struggled to chew and swallow them. "Dunno what you mean. What?"
"I'm not sure," Koyama said slowly, thinking, then tilted his head and shrugged in defeat. "You've been tense."
Shige suddenly wanted to take a photo, capture the moment and play it in another world and see what happened.
But Koyama was frowning again. "Or distant. Like that." He slipped off the bed and padded over to kneel in front of Shige. "Is there something wrong?" he asked seriously. "Did I do something to make you upset?"
"No, Kei." He'd been neglecting the real Koyama for a figment of his imagination or magic or whatever, and guilt rose up in his gut at the hurt look on his friend's face. Standing, he tugged Koyama to his feet. "You're the best thing in my life. So. Let me make it up to you. We'll do anything you want today, okay?"
Koyama looked suspicious for about ten seconds before smiling slyly. "Anything?"
Shige didn't know what he was thinking, and he was pretty certain he wouldn't like it, but he squared his shoulders and nodded. Whatever it was it was worth it.
It wasn't worth it at all, he decided, sweat running down his back and a dozen girls surrounding them cooing over Koyama's flaily dance moves and high score and laughing as Shige failed over and over again. It was an hour before Koyama finally relented, allowing Shige to step off the damn machine, but probably only because Koyama knew he'd collapse otherwise. Koyama was gorgeous, color high in his cheeks and breathing a little hard, grinning happily, slightly wet bangs flopping over his eyes rakishly and Shige didn't know what to do with himself. So he did the only thing he could, he reached into his bag, lifting out an ever-present camera and taking a picture.
It all got wound up in his head - a hundred confessions, a hundred kisses - tight as a spring until he just couldn't take it anymore, the silence, the secret. Koyama'd been looking at him with worried eyes and gone was the light, easy feeling they've always enjoyed, and Shige knew it was his fault. He had two options: give up Koyama, or give up his pride, and possibly lose Koyama. But he had to know.
It was 2am but he was out of his apartment in the middle of winter in a t-shirt and pajama pants, hopping on his freezing-cold bike and riding for his life or love or something like that. Then he was at Koyama's door, pounding on it with no regard for decency or next door neighbors and Koyama answered it with groggy eyes wide with concern, bed-head, and the least sexy flannel pajamas Shige'd ever seen. Not that that stopped him. He had to do it before he came to his senses.
"I have to tell you something," he said, huffed, breath still coming in gasps. He leaned on the doorway for support.
"Come in," Koyama said, brow furrowed. "It's freez-"
"No," Shige told him, holding up a hand. "You may not want me in after this and I have to do it right now." He straightened up and looked Koyama in the eyes. "I just want you to know. That I am so in love with you."
There. The words were out, plastering shock across Koyama's face and he wondered if it's how his own had looked in his myriads of worlds. He hoped so because the alternative meant that Koyama was about to shut the door in his face and while he half-expected it, he definitely didn't want it.
"Say something?" he begged.
Koyama's mouth closed and he took a hesitant step forward. "You're going to make me do this in front of the whole world?"
"What?" Shige cocked his head then looked around. "There's no one-"
Koyama's lips cut him off, strong arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing before Koyama pulled back to rest his cheek against Shige's and said in a shaky voice, "I never thought you'd say that. I thought we were growing apart or something and nothing I could do would stop it."
"Does this mean…" he should know the answer but he needed to hear it. He still felt like he was toeing some line and Koyama was about to tell him he only wanted to be friends and the kiss was out of pity.
But then Koyama was gripping his shoulders and leaning back to give him a reproachful look. "See? In front of the whole world. Shige, I'm in love with you too. I always have been."
Just two confessions, thousands of kisses, mornings spent lounging in bed, and they were all still one-time tickets, but the only thing in his head now was the afterglow. And he couldn't capture that on film. Not that it kept him from trying.
The real magic had finally come.
Rating: G
Group/Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Warnings: AU
Notes: Ri, I really enjoyed the original and even though you had SO MUCH TO CHOOSE from, I kept being drawn to this one. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox. <3 (A few sentences were taken directly from the original.)
Link to Original Story: No Photo Contents
Link to Original Writer: ryogrande
Shige couldn't decide whether it was a gift or a curse. His opinion fluctuated daily with his mood. Right this moment he was firmly in the middle, holding his recently developed photograph gingerly between two fingers, afraid to let it draw him in.
It had started two years ago in New York. If Shige were being honest with himself, it had been going on a long time before that, but he could be stubborn about things like this. About most things, actually, but particularly about matters of the heart. Because it was through those pictures that he found his gift. Or, you know, his curse.
He and Koyama had met twenty years ago, when Shige was four and had fallen off the curb and into the path of an oncoming bicycle. Frozen with fear, Shige could do nothing but close his eyes and wait for the crash. And the crash came, but in sound only, and when he opened his eyes, the older boy (who would introduce himself as Koyama Keiichiro with teary eyes as Shige's mom smoothed bandaids over skinned knees) was in a tumbled heap three feet away. They'd been inseparable ever since.
As these things sometimes go, Shige had slowly fallen in love with his best friend. And as these things often go, he was too frightened to do anything about it.
Two years ago, in celebration of Shige's recent graduation, they'd saved up their money and spent it on a trip to New York City. Shige, still new to the world of photography, but old to the world of unrequited love, had taken roll after roll of photos of everything, but mostly Koyama. The trip by itself had been its own sort of magic; the two of them on their own in the big city with only Shige's admittedly poor English to get them along and that just made it like their own little world. A bit of tranquility amid the break-neck speed of NYC. They'd spent much of their days separate - but their nights together, the wall of pillows between them unable to keep them completely apart.
But the real magic was yet to come.
Once Shige had returned home he'd developed the photos carefully, and left them to dry, almost afraid to look at them because they were more honest than he was - nearly every one of them had Koyama in. In fact he left them all week, avoiding even looking at the door to his darkroom until late Saturday night after a few beers and a romantic comedy he'd never confess to watching.
The truth hit him hard enough to translate to physicality and he stumbled into the middle of the small room, Koyama's face all around him and he admitted to no one in particular that he had a problem. Licking his lips, he grasped a photo between his fingers and unclipped it from the string, staring at the New York winter scene: It wasn’t cold enough for the snow to stick, but that didn’t stop the flurries from falling and causing a lens flare. Sporadic spots surrounded Koyama’s face like an aura made of fireflies, highlighting his features and the hope in his eyes.
The only thing that glowed brighter was Koyama’s smile.
And that's when it had happened; sudden cold whips across his cheekbones, something warm and fluffy wrapped around his neck not quite enough to fight the chill. And Koyama is right there, smiling at him. For him.
"Shige," Koyama says, breathless from running, still smiling. "Shige, I have something to tell you."
Shige's breath catches in his throat and he chokes out, "What? If you have something to say, say it." He sounds irritable but he knows it's only a bluff to hide his nervousness.
"Okay," Koyama says, still grinning and jogs over to sit down next to him on the bench, scooting close enough that they touch all along their sides. But he's silent for a while anyway. Then he turns to face him, tugs Shige's gloved hand out of his pocket and takes it in between his, and says, "I'm so in love with you."
Shige's breath catches again, but then Koyama's lips are on his and he's not sure who moved first, but he thinks it might have been him. He doesn't think about the media getting wind of two male idols making out in Central Park, and if he had, he would probably would have been glad for the first time in his life that he wasn't as popular as other Johnny's; all he thinks about is Koyama's wind-chapped lips warming up against his, and the smile he can feel without seeing.
And just like that he was back in his darkroom, shaking of cold and happiness and, yes, maybe of shock because it suddenly hit him that none of it was real. They're not in New York, they're certainly not idols, and the warmth in his apartment just made the contrast sharper. Whoever that was, it wasn't him. The cold he felt inside was easily attributed to disappointment. He packed the rest of the photos up without even looking at them.
One month later the box sat on his bed, Shige staring suspiciously at it before tipping the lid off and reaching for the topmost photo. He couldn't forget the smile or the hope or the way the snow had created a halo around Koyama's face. He couldn't forget the confession or the kiss. But stare though he might, nothing happened. Not that he hadn't expected this. Of course not. His imagination had gotten the best of him. So what. With a sigh he put it aside and pulled out the next. He hadn't bothered neatly arranging the photos, and the next one was actually from the first day of a different trip, just outside the airport waiting for a taxi; the angle reminded him that they'd both held a side of the camera, and part of his own face is cut off, making sure Koyama is in the picture and -
he laughs. They laugh, Koyama's giggle all high and nasal even as Shige warns him not to break his camera. It's only a small group of friends with them, but still they crowd together into the small van, the two of them pressed unbearably close. Koyama smiles at Shige as he slings an arm over his shoulder, and Shige's heart increases to double time, he swears.
"Get off," he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders, but Koyama just takes one of Shige's hands in his and squeezes tight. The warmth isn't just from overcrowding. Shige's been looking forward to this camping trip for weeks. Not because he likes camping, because he doesn't, but because he and Koyama are sharing a tent because no one else wants to deal with Koyama's snoring. The tent is very small. He smiles stupidly and Koyama pokes him in the cheek.
The day passes quickly even though Shige gets grumpy trying to set up the tent because Koyama keeps getting tangled in it, and Koyama shoves Shige into the lake and it's way too cold for that, especially since the sun's gone down. So he's shivering in the tent when Koyama clambers in smelling like campfire smoke and settles down next to him.
"Are you sleeping?" Koyama whispers, barely audible over the rustling of his sleeping bag.
"No."
"…Are you mad?"
"No."
"…Are you still cold?"
He's not, really, but he says yes anyway, mostly to see what Koyama's reaction is. There's the plastic crinkling of the sleeping bag again and Koyama is slipping into Shige's with him, wrapping skinny arms around Shige's body and snuggling close, his cold nose pressing against the back of Shige's neck and warm breath puffing against his skin.
"Koyama," Shige says, voice suddenly hoarse.
Koyama hums inquisitively and wiggles a little. Shige's not sure what he intended to say; he's frozen, Koyama's slim fingers resting just below his ribcage, and then he's suddenly burning up.
"'S'hot," he finally mutters and Koyama hums distractedly.
"Shige," Koyama finally whispers, breath tickling Shige's neck and making him shiver. "Can I tell you something important?"
Just a whisper but it feels so heavy and Shige's just as suddenly cold. "Go ahead," he whispers back.
There's a rustling and Koyama pulls away enough to tug Shige onto his back, looking down at him. Shige can barely make out his face in the flickering firelight through their tent, Koyama's lower lip nervously held between his teeth before he releases it to speak. "I'm so in love with you."
They stare at one another for a moment before Koyama leans down and presses their lips together. It doesn't take long for Shige to wrap his arms around Koyama's neck and tug him down.
~*~
Shige couldn't figure out if he was either crazy or magic, and he didn't really care. Each photo gave him a little extra time with Koyama in a world that was so similar and yet so different from his own. In these other worlds, Koyama confessed - over and over in every scenario imaginable. But each photo was like a one-use ticket. He could never go back. And every look into these alternate realities just made him want Koyama more. They were perfect together. Shouldn't knowing make it easier?
But it didn't.
"Shige," Koyama sang, skipping through the house with Shige's spare key dangling noisily from his fingers. "Shige, where are you?"
Shige felt the slight trembling of the floor beneath his futon, Koyama's approaching footsteps, and then the blanket was tugged off him.
"Shige," Koyama pouted. Shige could hear it in his voice. "You didn't answer your phone. We were supposed to meet for breakfast. I had to fend off that slutty waitress all by myself."
He had to open his eyes to roll them at his best friend. "Yeah because you hate that." Koyama always insisted on that place for breakfast and Shige couldn't bear one more day of watching her flirt outrageously with Koyama. So he'd 'fallen back asleep.'
A sly grin spread across Koyama's face. "It's much more fun when you're there, though."
"Yes… I know how you love an audience," he mumbled and struggled to sit up, running his hands through his undeniable bed head. He sniffed. "You smell good." He did… Shige wasn't just saying it even though he loved the way Koyama smelled pretty much always. Today he smelled like -
"I brought you pancakes," Koyama replied with a nod toward Shige's desk where a styrofoam container shimmered invitingly in the sunlight.
"I love you," Shige blurted, hiding his flaming cheeks by rolling out of bed and going straight for the breakfast goodies.
"Love you, too," Koyama said easily, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs along the floor. "But what's up with you lately?"
Shige's head whipped around, cheeks stuffed with delicious pancakes and he struggled to chew and swallow them. "Dunno what you mean. What?"
"I'm not sure," Koyama said slowly, thinking, then tilted his head and shrugged in defeat. "You've been tense."
Shige suddenly wanted to take a photo, capture the moment and play it in another world and see what happened.
But Koyama was frowning again. "Or distant. Like that." He slipped off the bed and padded over to kneel in front of Shige. "Is there something wrong?" he asked seriously. "Did I do something to make you upset?"
"No, Kei." He'd been neglecting the real Koyama for a figment of his imagination or magic or whatever, and guilt rose up in his gut at the hurt look on his friend's face. Standing, he tugged Koyama to his feet. "You're the best thing in my life. So. Let me make it up to you. We'll do anything you want today, okay?"
Koyama looked suspicious for about ten seconds before smiling slyly. "Anything?"
Shige didn't know what he was thinking, and he was pretty certain he wouldn't like it, but he squared his shoulders and nodded. Whatever it was it was worth it.
It wasn't worth it at all, he decided, sweat running down his back and a dozen girls surrounding them cooing over Koyama's flaily dance moves and high score and laughing as Shige failed over and over again. It was an hour before Koyama finally relented, allowing Shige to step off the damn machine, but probably only because Koyama knew he'd collapse otherwise. Koyama was gorgeous, color high in his cheeks and breathing a little hard, grinning happily, slightly wet bangs flopping over his eyes rakishly and Shige didn't know what to do with himself. So he did the only thing he could, he reached into his bag, lifting out an ever-present camera and taking a picture.
It all got wound up in his head - a hundred confessions, a hundred kisses - tight as a spring until he just couldn't take it anymore, the silence, the secret. Koyama'd been looking at him with worried eyes and gone was the light, easy feeling they've always enjoyed, and Shige knew it was his fault. He had two options: give up Koyama, or give up his pride, and possibly lose Koyama. But he had to know.
It was 2am but he was out of his apartment in the middle of winter in a t-shirt and pajama pants, hopping on his freezing-cold bike and riding for his life or love or something like that. Then he was at Koyama's door, pounding on it with no regard for decency or next door neighbors and Koyama answered it with groggy eyes wide with concern, bed-head, and the least sexy flannel pajamas Shige'd ever seen. Not that that stopped him. He had to do it before he came to his senses.
"I have to tell you something," he said, huffed, breath still coming in gasps. He leaned on the doorway for support.
"Come in," Koyama said, brow furrowed. "It's freez-"
"No," Shige told him, holding up a hand. "You may not want me in after this and I have to do it right now." He straightened up and looked Koyama in the eyes. "I just want you to know. That I am so in love with you."
There. The words were out, plastering shock across Koyama's face and he wondered if it's how his own had looked in his myriads of worlds. He hoped so because the alternative meant that Koyama was about to shut the door in his face and while he half-expected it, he definitely didn't want it.
"Say something?" he begged.
Koyama's mouth closed and he took a hesitant step forward. "You're going to make me do this in front of the whole world?"
"What?" Shige cocked his head then looked around. "There's no one-"
Koyama's lips cut him off, strong arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing before Koyama pulled back to rest his cheek against Shige's and said in a shaky voice, "I never thought you'd say that. I thought we were growing apart or something and nothing I could do would stop it."
"Does this mean…" he should know the answer but he needed to hear it. He still felt like he was toeing some line and Koyama was about to tell him he only wanted to be friends and the kiss was out of pity.
But then Koyama was gripping his shoulders and leaning back to give him a reproachful look. "See? In front of the whole world. Shige, I'm in love with you too. I always have been."
Just two confessions, thousands of kisses, mornings spent lounging in bed, and they were all still one-time tickets, but the only thing in his head now was the afterglow. And he couldn't capture that on film. Not that it kept him from trying.
The real magic had finally come.