Gift Fic for rin_aokuro!
Gift Fic for rin_aokuro
From kis_my_fic2
Title: ～Tied
Pairings/Characters: Fujigaya/Senga, Nikaido/Senga
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Senga had always thought that Nikaido was the other person at the end of his red thread of destiny...
Notes: The red thread of destiny is a Japanese legend, which states that the gods tie a red thread around the little finger of each person. This thread connects two people who are destined to be lovers, and can be stretched or tangled but never break. - Wikipedia. Also, I took some very minor liberties with song lyric translations (though the integrity of the songs' meanings shouldn't have been affected).
Senga was almost never in the Vocal Music halls of the Conservatory, being a dance student himself, but destiny (in the guise of Yara Sensei) flagged him down one day for an errand.
He was happy to deliver the missive for his instructor, because the chance for a student to visit departments other than his own was rare and Senga was curious. He'd been down to the vocal department only once before, at the end of last school year when all the seniors had been practicing for their practicum concerts, and it had been wonderful to hear all the melodies resounding through the acoustically perfect hallways. He'd literally floated through dance practice for a week afterwards, which had made his instructors happy.
He was disappointed when he got there however, for it was lunchtime and the hallways were deserted and quiet. His sneakers squeaked against the gleaming floors (so unlike the scuffed and well-worn dance halls) a little, and Senga cringed at the unpleasant sound. It was probably blasphemous, or something, to make such an ugly sound here. So he picked up his feet and danced-that always made him more graceful-to the end of the hallway where Professor Nishikiori's office was located.
“It can't be expressed in words, rooted in the depths
Speak of love and such, a sweet and light tone”
The voice coming out of Professor Nishikiori's office made Senga stop abruptly, arrested in motion like a freeze-frame photo.
It was perfect, he thought, the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. It was soft and smooth, and made him feel as though he were burying his fingers in the most luxurious velvet. It made him feel ache-y inside his chest, mingled desire and hope and a bit of sadness.
"That's just great, Taisuke!" Another voice, steadier but less rich than the singer's, spoke. It was the voice of an older man, and Senga realized this must be Professor Nishikiori speaking. "You've got the emotions down now. Whatever it is you're thinking about right now, keep it in your mind when you sing this song. Now, let me hear you once more. Let's just finish this song, then, shall we, and then I'll let you go to your lunch."
Senga supposed he shouldn't be lurking around the corner eavesdropping like this, but rationalized the thought away by telling himself that he shouldn't interrupt another student's lesson, either. He heard the mysterious student take a deep breath and involuntarily followed suit, anticipating what his ears would hear next.
“The temperature when you're here
Close enough to be touched
In just that distance, I feel heated
The beat is pounding”
As the student started singing again, Senga felt like he was caught under a spell and wondered if this voice was weaving an enchantment over him.
He'd heard of such a skill before, the rare musician or performer who had the power to make listeners cry or laugh at will. There had been the legendary four Dancing Kings, for instance, who'd all graduated from the Conservatory and were famed throughout the nation for their impactful stages. The school had graduated a few vocalists with this talent as well, Senga knew, though he wasn't as familiar with these and had no point of comparison.
As he listened to the singer, he lost himself in contemplation, wondering if this student was someone with that extraordinary talent. The more he listened, the more it felt like there was even more emotion in that velvet voice, as though the heat described in the song were palpable in the air and in the beat was pounding in middle of his chest-
"Hello."
And there he was, the mysterious student with the perfect voice. Taisuke, Professor Nishikiori had called him. He had pouty, kissable lips and long bangs that fell messily into his eyes; he looked beautiful and free and like nothing Senga had ever experienced. Like something out of a dream.
"Hi! I'm-Professor Nishikiori-I mean, I'm not-I'm here to deliver something to Professor Nishikiori!"
"Ah, he's just inside."
"Y-Yeah. Thanks."
"Guess I'll see you around then."
"Ah-yeah..." Senga replied, awkwardly bowing his head in greeting though the student was already walking away from him.
It wasn't until the student pushed through the swinging double doors into the school courtyard that Senga realized he was still staring, mouth agape, heart still pounding in his chest. He wondered what Professor Nishikiori must have thought of him, too, because he was definitely in a bit of a stupor when he'd delivered his note.
By the time he got to the seat Nikaido was saving for him in the school cafeteria, his head had cleared a little. He was able to talk and laugh normally, all the while shoveling his bento into his mouth at his usual rate, yet the unknown student's song seemed to be stuck in Senga's subconscious. More than once he found himself tapping out the rhythm of the refrain on the tabletop, until Nikaido questioned it with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"Why are you so fidgety today?"
Senga didn't respond right away, and when he did, his voice was quiet and a little hesitant, so that Nikaido had to lean in to hear him properly. "Nika, have you ever wondered..."
There was a pause, longer than what would've been natural, before Nikaido prompted, "Wondered...?"
"Have you ever wondered," repeated Senga, more resolutely this time, "about that that tangle in the middle of our red thread?"
Whatever Nikaido was expecting to hear it wasn't this, and he spluttered and choked on air for a moment before recovering. "No," he said firmly, a period audible at the end of his short utterance. He scowled at Senga for good measure and then gave all his attention to the rest of his lunch, closing the topic for further discussion.
Accepting this, Senga didn't press his point though still he watched, thoughtfully, as Nikaido brought his chopsticks to his mouth, as Nikaido reached across the table for a soft drink, as Nikaido picked up his napkin from where it had fluttered to the ground.
As Nikaido moved, the red thread tied to their pinky fingers-the one that connected them and marked them as each other's destinies-stretched and contracted with ease. It was this elasticity that made Senga sure that Nikaido was his fated partner - his soulmate, as was called in all the fairy stories.
The thread was short now, compacted due to their physical proximity. Senga reached out a finger and gently touched the tangle in the center, lost in thought. The thing was, everyone (and he really meant everyone: his parents and grandparents and the emperor and even Miyacchi-and-Tama-chan whose names were practically one word now) had knots and tangles somewhere along the lines of their red threads of destiny.
People didn't question their connections or try to untangle the knots anymore. Physically trying to unknot the threads didn't do any good, and too many of the older generations had wasted away their lives meeting new people, undoing tangle after tangle and in the end dying without having found their destined partner.
Senga sighed. He moved his pinky a little, tugging at the thread just the tiniest bit, to see the way the tangle shifted and rearranged itself.
"Stop that!" Nikaido commanded, exasperated. He reached over and grabbed the length of thread that was tangled with his other hand, blocking it from Senga's sight. "You know it's pointless to even bother!"
"Sorry! I'm sorry," said Senga, snapping out of his thoughts. "I didn't mean to."
At the end of class the next day, Yara-sensei had an announcement for everyone.
"I think you are all aware that at the end of your studies here at the Conservatory, you will each need to hold a concert as a practicum project to showcase all that you've learned before you graduate. Of course all of your practicums are still far off, but there is a graduating senior from the vocal department who is having a concert next month and he wants to have some of you backdance for him on some of his numbers.
"Now, this is a very rare chance for all of you. You'll not only gain experience from performing properly in front of an audience, but also learn a lot about how practicum concerts work. This will definitely give you an advantage over other students when you're preparing for your own as seniors.
"I had a special request from the student's adviser, Professor Nishikiori, to use students from our class, so I expect you all to give a good account of yourself. Additionally, it is for Professor Nishikiori's top student, so we have to make doubly sure of a good performance.
"Rehearsals will begin Wednesday afternoon. Class dismissed."
As the class broke up in murmurs, Yara Sensei called out to Senga, "Kento, can you stay for a moment?"
"There's one other thing that has to do with this concert," Yara Sensei told him as soon as the rest of the students had filed out of the room. "There's a song in this concert of Professor Nishiki's student that he wants to have someone do a solo dance to. He said he'd like it to be more freestyle than choreographed, modern dance style. I thought you would be the best person for this, if you're interested?"
Senga beamed. Yara Sensei was his favorite teacher, but everybody knew that Yamamoto was Yara Sensei's favorite student, so for Senga to be chosen was a tremendous compliment.
"Yes!" he replied without hesitation, "I'd love to do it! It sounds right up my alley!"
When Senga told Nikaido about his good news later, on their way back to the dorms, Nikaido was as happy for him as he was himself. Yara Sensei had mentioned in passing what a good opportunity this was, though Senga and Nikaido would've both known without being told. They were still in their second year, and it usually took twice that long for a student to stand on stage, if not longer. And Senga had been singled out to dance solo, even!
"Dude, don't forget us little people when you become the big hotshot dancer," Nikaido said, grinning and punching him on the arm and bouncing all around him like an excited bunny.
"Shut up!" replied Senga, grinning equally widely, "It's just a school project. Besides, I'd never be able to forget you, you're too annoying." He stuck out his tongue for a brief moment, before he took off running with Nikaido chasing after.
Rehearsals for the vocal student's practicum were set for Wednesdays and Fridays in the late afternoons, when everybody's schedules were open. For Senga, this meant that he had to rush from his last class of the day to the designated practice classroom, which proved to be a small mercy on the first day.
By the time he arrived at the rehearsal room, the rest of the students were already there and the record player was already blasting a song that was full of enticing string instrumentals and a pulsing beat.
“Love and like la la la
In the middle of darkness...”
There it was again, the voice that had stopped Senga in his tracks and shaken him to the very core just a few days ago. This was Professor Nishikiori's top student? Though, Senga reflected, it wasn't really surprising, considering the way this student's singing had such a strong impact on his emotions.
He felt it still, as he paused in the doorway and watched the student (what was his name again...? Taisuke) sing. He felt his whole body vibrate with the music.
Senga chanced a peek into the classroom to see if it had the same effect on the others, if they also felt the physical pull in the center of their chests. They looked normal enough, though Yamamoto seemed to be bouncing over-excitedly on the balls of his feet and Hamanaka's eyes were looking just the slightest bit glazed. Though, to be fair, this wasn't completely out of the ordinary for those two.
His eyes kept going back to the student, however, at the front of the room. Senga found himself attracted to not only his voice, but the sparkle in his eyes and the way he impatiently pushed his unruly bangs out of them...
From the back of the room, Yara Sensei noticed Senga and motioned for him to come inside.
"I'm sorry I'm late!" Senga whispered, trying to bow and put his bag away quietly at the same time.
"You had a class, it's fine," Yara Sensei smiled at him kindly, "That's Fujigaya-kun. I'll introduce you after class." With that, Yara Sensei went to the front of the room to show them the choreography for the song.
It was a more complicated dance than anything they'd done before, and Senga pouted about how hard it was to learn along with the rest of the class even though he was secretly pleased that it required so much concentration. It was confusing, and unsettling, the impact Fujigaya had on his heart.
Senga continued to be grateful for the practices starting so closely after his last class. The sooner he could throw himself into dance practice, the easier it was to convince himself that the blood singing through his veins and the pounding of his heart was due merely to strenuous physical exertion, rather than the influence of Fujigaya's music.
Nikaido had great speakers in his room, with subwoofers that pounded out the beat of a song until the air reverberated with it and made Senga's heart throb along in unison. He loved a good strong beat, loved it when it was so much bigger and more powerful than himself that he couldn't help but jump up and dance along.
They liked to have jam sessions there, Nikaido ripping along with the music on his bass while Senga moved his body, until they were both exhilarated with the effort. Then afterwards, when the adrenaline faded, they would collapse in a pile next to each other on Nikaido's bed and talk about their dreams.
Senga had always wanted to do modern dance when he grew up; he'd known that he was born to dance since he was just a child. But unlike Nikaido, he didn't have any grand plans for his future. "I don't care where I go or how much I get paid," he explained time and time again, "I just want to dance. As long as I can put food in my mouth, isn't that compensation enough for doing what I love?"
But Nikaido only scoffed at this lack of ambition. "You're a moron," he said, "Don't you want to be famous? Stand in the spotlight and have the whole country know your name and girls fall at your feet?"
"That's your dream though," Senga said, shrugging off the desire for fame and fortune easily. He rolled over onto his stomach and smiled at his best friend. "How's the latest band coming along anyway?"
Nikaido was constantly in a new band, playing with new people every few months as each one fell apart due to "artistic differences." (At this, Professor Yamaguchi only smiled and said it was because they were all young still, a statement with which Senga was inclined to agree, though Nikaido preferred to dismiss the idea with a scowl and throw himself even harder each time into the creation of a new band.)
"Pretty good!" Nikaido perked up in answer to Senga's question, bouncing on his mattress a little. "Actually Sanapi and I finally decided on a drummer! We just need a vocalist now."
Senga loved seeing the sparkle in Nikaido's eyes whenever he got excited about a new project, and he grinned now, catching onto the enthusiasm. "Hey, I bet Fujigaya-kun would be a great front man for a rock band," he volunteered.
It took Nikaido a few moments to respond to this, and the way his expression froze was enough to tell Senga that he didn't think particularly highly of the idea. "Oh come on Nika, he has so much talent and charisma."
"...You think really highly of this Fujigaya-kun, don't you." There was a studied sort of nonchalance in Nikaido's voice, and the words were a statement rather than a question.
"Well yeah, he's really talented. When he sings, it really makes me feel the emotions behind his music. That's what I'm going to aim for, too, with my dancing."
"Hmm," Nikaido hummed in a non-committal way.
Senga laughed a little, to ease the tension. "Oh come on, you're not jealous are you?"
Instead of gracing the comment with a reply, Nikaido slapped Senga hard on his back with the back of his hand. Senga retaliated by stuffing a pillow in Nikaido's face, and then the two of them launched into a full on wrestling match on the bed.
For a few minutes it was all limbs and warm skin and hair and fabric in each other's mouths, and laughter and teasing insults flung everywhere, until suddenly Nikaido was lying on top of Senga, faces no more than a handful of centimeters apart.
"I win!" he crowed, eyes shining.
Nikaido's eyes flickered down to Senga's lips for a split second, and abruptly Senga found himself pushing Nikaido off, easily deflecting the older boy with energy he hadn't used in their play-wrestling.
He stood up and turned away as he straightened his clothes, unable to look at Nikaido for a moment. It wasn't that he had anything against Nikaido, or physical intimacy, but somehow those two things together felt wrong to Senga, try as he might to fight the feeling. He knew it wasn't kind to always be pushing Nikaido away, and he was sorry for chickening out yet again, but he couldn't help it. The reaction was automatic, almost instinctual.
"Whatever," Senga said, forcing a smile onto his own face so that he would sound as cheerful as usual, "You only won cause I let you."
"Hey, Senga?"
Shoving the last of his practices clothes into his duffel bag, Senga turned to face the speaker. "Fujigaya-kun! Yes?"
"Do you want to go and get some ice cream or something?"
"What?!" Senga's eyes widened, "I-me?!"
At this, Fujigaya started laughing. "Is there anybody else here named Senga? Besides, I wanted to discuss the other song, the solo dance for you. We should find a time to practice that a bit too, even if it is freestyle."
"Oh." Senga blinked. "Yeah. Of course." Then after an awkward pause, "Ice cream sounds great!"
They didn't have the chance to say a word about the dance, or anything concerning Fujigaya's concert, as it turned out.
As soon as they got to the ice cream parlor, Fujigaya was exchanging greetings with what seemed like everyone there. There was Fumito, the server behind the counter who gave them both extra scoops with a lewd wink; and Koki, dripping ice cream all over the composition sheets laid out in front of him; and Kitayama, who winked at Senga and roasted him for being Fujigaya's latest fling.
"Be careful with this guy," joked Kitayama, poking Fujigaya none-too-gently in the ribs, "He'll steal your heart away with that silver tongue of his and then crush it!" Dramatically, he squeezed his empty ice cream cup until it was crumpled in his palm, then offered it to Senga as an example. "I speak from experience, right Gaya?"
"Shut up." Fujigaya shoved the guy roughly on the shoulder, "Don't listen to this ass, Senga."
Leaning over the glass countertop above the ice cream, Fumito also joined into the conversation. "But Taipi, Kitamitsu's right. You're my heartbreaker~" With a cackle, he ducked out of Fujigaya's reach.
"You guys suck," pouted Fujigaya.
Senga was fighting the urge to laugh at the antics of these guys now, but thought he should at least make an attempt to support his senpai. "Don't worry, there's no risk for me. Fujigaya-kun is only being a nice senpai."
His words were greeted by a shout of laughter from everyone. A boy who'd been sitting so quietly by the window that Senga hadn't noticed him at first spoke up. "Then you're definitely being fooled. Taisuke is totally a wolf in sheep's clothing, ne?"
With a groan, Fujigaya flopped dramatically down into an empty chair. "Not you too Tottsu!"
But his eyes were sparkling, and his shoulders were shaking with mirth, and Senga had a strange, fleeting thought of how nice it would be to be able to hear that laughter every day. He thought that, probably, he was at a lot of risk.
They went to the ice cream parlor a lot after that, and also to tea shops and restaurants that Fujigaya felt were worth recommending. Sometimes it was with Fujigaya's friends, or the guys from Senga's dance class. Sometimes it was just the two of them alone, after practicing by themselves on the solo dance track (a song called 'My Love,' that they did manage to get around to working on eventually and that Senga absolutely loved).
Often Fujigaya would suggest skipping practice-especially the extra sessions for 'My Love' since Yara Sensei left it up to them half of the time-with sparkling eyes and a ready grin that Senga found impossible to resist.
"Fujigaya-kun, we shouldn't. Rehearsals are important if we don't want to mess up during your actual practicum," Senga would object, even as he gathered up his belongings.
But Fujigaya would just wave at him to hurry up and say "I told you to stop using honorifics," blithely ignoring Senga's protests.
Although he was usually an astute judge of character, Senga found himself constantly surprised by Fujigaya. Every time he thought he'd figured the older boy out, Fujigaya went and revealed something about himself that was at odds with what he expected. For instance, he'd thought Fujigaya, as Professor Nishikiori's top student, would be studious and conscientious to a fault, but he was a social butterfly who could talk on for hours if left to his own device with little regard for preserving his voice. And when he thought Fujigaya was a bit shallow and frivolous, with his love of luxury and brand names, it turned out that he liked to read smart books about finance and world politics.
In short, Fujigaya was the most intriguing person Senga had ever met. He couldn't help but keep coming back for more.
Inexplicably, Senga had developed the habit of picking idly at the tangle of knots along the length of thread between him and Nikaido. Whenever they were together, he'd fiddle with it unconsciously, trying to follow a short length of thread through all the myriad loops.
Of course it didn't do any good.
The threads of fate were not to be altered by human hands.
"Stop picking at it!" Nikaido gave an impatient shake of his hand, twitching the thread out of Senga's grasp. "You can't untangle it that way anyway!"
"...Sorry! I don't even realize I'm doing it, really!"
"Ne, Gaya," said Senga one night, as the two of them zipped up their bags and got ready to leave the practice room. They were alone in the classroom, having stayed late for solo practice as usual.
"Hmm?"
"Why did you choose 'love' as the theme for your concert?"
Senga had been wondering this for a long time now. It was a common enough theme, though usually among the girls of the school who liked to dream of rainbows and unicorns still. Love was just a myth, a fairytale ending, something men tended to veer sharply away from.
Fujigaya gave Senga an appraising look before answering. "Because... that's what I'm looking for." Then, as Senga only returned a blank look, he added, "You know, in life in general. I want to find love."
"But," Senga's eyes widened, "But love isn't..."
"...Real?" Fujigaya finished for him.
There was something in Fujigaya's voice, a bit of an amused smile or a hint of condescension, perhaps, that made Senga hesitate a little in his answer. "Well... yeah."
"Anything can be real so long as I believe in it."
"Even," Senga cast about in his mind for a suitable example, "Even unicorns?"
"Even unicorns," Fujigaya affirmed. "But a unicorn is a solid object, so whether it exists or not can be proved through observation. You can't prove to me that love doesn't exist, so I will believe that it does."
He was so sure of himself. In the face of this kind of certainty, Senga was finding it difficult to defend his position, even though he knew his own argument was an empirical truth. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and each person had a red thread to link him to his destiny.
"But what's the point of having love at all?" Senga picked up the argument again as they headed out of the school building, "It doesn't serve a purpose. Our red threads show us who our destiny is, so-"
"I see you're pulling out all the textbook arguments." Fujigaya shrugged carelessly. "These threads that everyone is so concerned about, how can you be sure that they're leading you to the right person when there are so many tangles in everyone's threads?
"Because-because that's how it works! You might as well question gravity, or the fact that the earth is round, while you're at that argument."
"But why? I believe in those things," answered Fujigaya simply.
Senga pointed at Fujigaya's own hand. "What about your own thread? Haven't you ever wondered who it would lead you to?"
Fujigaya held his hand up for Senga to examine the red thread tied to his pinky. There was a knot in his length of thread as well, though quite small, which made a small voice at the back of Senga's head wonder why he didn't simply try to unravel it. "You see? When I lift my hand, it tugs on your thread a little too. Maybe my destiny is you. But you've already found your destiny, haven't you? That dark-haired boy with the guitar case who's always waiting for you over there, isn't it?"
Turning his head to look in the direction Fujigaya had indicated with a jerk of his chin, Senga found Nikaido leaning languidly against a lamppost like a chiaroscuro image in the pool of yellow lamp light. He was so good-looking, thought Senga with a sudden surge of affection. Even if Nikaido didn't make his heart go skipping into his throat - well, you couldn't believe everything in the movies after all. Plus, he and Nikaido had discovered their connection to each other way back when they were just school kids, so they were totally used to each other's existences.
But as he said goodbye to Fujigaya and walked towards Nikaido, Senga wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, they lived in a world without red threads leading them to their destinies, would he have fallen in love with Nikaido?
"Is it just me or is this knot getting smaller?" Senga asked out of the blue one day while lounging around on his bed. He held up his hand to stretch out the thread between them properly, showing Nikaido the lump of knots in the middle. He knew it irritated Nikaido each time he mentioned their red thread, but Senga couldn't help it, the same as he couldn't help trying to untie the knots, the same as he couldn't help but think of Fujigaya whenever he noticed his red thread...
But for once, Nikaido didn't snap at him to stop with this obsession. Instead, he put down his laptop and approached Senga with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Before he realized what was happening, Senga's lips were covered with Nikaido's, hard and demanding. It wasn't a pleasant kiss, too much tongue and clashing, scraping teeth, but it was also hot and wet and electric, so that Senga found himself half hard already by the time Nikaido pulled away.
"Nika," he practically moaned the name, clutching at the older boy involuntarily.
There was that feeling again, that emotional intensity, the tugging in his chest, only this time it was Nikaido, not Fujigaya, making him feel that way. He didn't know what it meant, only that he wanted to reach out and grab hold of the line and tug back, pull Nikaido back into the kiss, and more.
"Nika!"
For once, Senga didn't step back, didn't withdraw from the physical intimacy that Nikaido was asking for. Nikaido pushed Senga back down onto the bed, lying bodily on top of him, kissing him everywhere his lips could reach. Senga could feel the harsh insistence of anger and jealousy burning hot against his skin, wherever Nikaido trailed his lips.
Senga arched up into Nikaido's touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.
An image of Fujigaya came to mind.
He had enough presence of mind to clamp down on his own tongue before he accidentally gasped the wrong name out loud. But he found he couldn't focus anymore, and his mind would insist on thinking of Fujigaya-thinking of him sweaty and triumphant as he always looked after a particularly good rehearsal, or with that look of intense concentration on his face when he focused on his singing-even though he tried to force his thoughts back to Nikaido again and again.
In the end, Senga gave up and pulled away from Nikaido.
"Sorry," he said, "I'm just..." He was just what? His mind drew a blank as he tried to think of a way to finish his sentence. "I'm sorry," he apologized again.
“You are my love, my love, I love you
My love, my love, even if the world changes-”
"Is something wrong, Senga?"
With a start, Senga realized that he'd stopped dancing, and subsequently, Fujigaya had stopped singing. "Oh, no, nothing," he stammered, looking away quickly.
By now it really should have been nothing. They were only days from Fujigaya's practicum concert and they'd spent enough time together now that Senga shouldn't have been affected like this anymore. Senga had though he'd finally gotten used to the impact of Fujigaya's voice - or learned to deal with the feelings, at least. But practicing choreographed moves with a whole group of other people was one thing; watching Fujigaya sing with his closed his eyes from five feet away was something completely different.
Senga could feel his body tensing up with emotions that reflected the words in Fujigaya's song. It was crazy, but his reaction to Fujigaya's singing was always so visceral, physical - blood rushing through his veins and his muscles humming with excitement. If he were to be totally honest with himself, it felt rather like... being aroused.
With an effort, Senga shook himself free of his thoughts. "I guess I just spaced out for a moment, I'm sorry. Let's try it again from the top?"
They stood outside the school's main gates, Senga with a duffel bag of stage clothes and stuff for Fujigaya's practicum concert in a few hours slung over his shoulder, and Nikaido with his bass over his. It was dusk, the sky that particular shade of grayish-blue that makes everything hard to see, so Senga didn't even notice Nikaido leaning in until there was a pair of warm and slightly dry lips pressing against his own.
This time, when he jerked back, it was genuinely out of surprise, not reluctance.
"What-?"
Nikaido shrugged jauntily, thought Senga suspected much of that was bluster. "Kiss for good luck, since I can't make it to see you perform."
Nikaido was off to a last-minute audition for a record label that one of his new band members had scored through connections. This was the first time that either of them had been absent for something major in each others' lives, yet oddly fitting that they were both doing something important to their future careers at the same time.
"Sorry," said Senga, the words slipping out before he could be sure if he was apologizing for pulling back from the kiss or for being unable to accompany Nikaido, who got nervous easily and liked having a hand to hold during auditions.
"Stop apologizing already," Nikaido waved a hand at him, "We're best friends first and foremost, no matter what, right?"
"Yeah," agreed Senga with a small smile, "Definitely best friends."
And then, as Nikaido turned to go himself, Senga reached out to grab Nikaido's wrist, spinning his best friend back for a second kiss.
"For good luck," he whispered, pulling away a moment later. "I know you'll be amazing."
Fujigaya's practicum concert was a huge success.
A group of distinguished professors sat up in the maroon-draped balconies of the school's concert halls evaluating everything from the timbre of Fujigaya's voice, to the ordering of songs in his programme, to the audience's reactions. Senga wasn't an expert on vocal music by any measure, but he didn't need grizzled old men or public opinion to know that Fujigaya was in top form tonight.
Fujigaya sang about angels and Senga felt his soul being lifted, transcended. Fujigaya sang about sin and Senga felt the darkness in his very bones. Fujigaya sang about passion and Senga felt heat tingle spread throughout his body before centering in his groin. Fujigaya sang about love and Senga's heart sang its answer right back in response.
“Look me now...
Touch me now...
Love me now...
Hate me now...!”
Right at the apex of the concert, when the air was thick with emotions and his eyes were half blinded by sweat and spotlights, Senga looked into Fujigaya's eyes and had a strange moment of clarity. It was part of the dance, to circle around Fujigaya and come up in front of him, dragging his hand down Fujigaya's chest and looking into his eyes - but there was something in Fujigaya's eyes as they landed on Senga's that was unmistakably sincere.
Senga suddenly realized that the words Fujigaya was singing were for him, and him only.
Fujigaya was half-hidden amongst the curtains in the dark wings of the stage, watching as the last of the audience filed out of the concert hall, when Senga found him. It felt a little like he'd stumbled into a small pocket of peace and quiet amongst the post-concert chaos. In the backstage proper, the staff were busy putting away stage sets, securing all the machinery, and the billion other little things that needed to be done after a concert. But the heavy velvet curtains reduced the sounds of activity to a distant murmur, as though the rest of the world were fading away from this dark oasis in which only Senga and Fujigaya existed.
He'd come with the intent to say goodbye, to congratulate Fujigaya on a successful concert, and maybe to ask to exchange phone numbers. Seniors didn't come to school any more once they were done with their practicum concerts, and Senga hoped that he and Fujigaya could remain friends, even after the older boy graduated. It was nerve-wracking to ask a senpai for his number, even one as friendly and approachable as Fujigaya, and Senga chose to stay a bit later than the rest of the dancers so he could talk to Fujigaya alone.
Only, as it happened, instead of saying the little speech he'd mentally prepared, he kissed Fujigaya.
There was no time for his brain to catch up to his actions. Fujigaya turned to smile at him, looking so beautifully happy that Senga couldn't stop himself even if he'd realized what he was doing. It felt as though there was some inexorable force pulling him forward, tilting his center of gravity so that it was vital he kissed Fujigaya else he lose his balance and fall off the face of the earth entirely.
So he tilted his head, and matched his lips up to the shape and slant of Fujigaya's lips. Tangled his tongue with Fujigaya's tongue. Tasted the salt of sweat and felt the heat of passion on is own lips or Fujigaya's, he couldn't make the distinction any more.
It felt like it was inevitable. It felt like he was being pulled along by the threads of destiny.
He didn't realize then how much difference one kiss could make.
When Senga and Nikaido met up the next day for lunch and recounting Senga's dance and Nikaido's audition, neither of them noticed at first.
Nothing felt different between them, after all. Nikaido gushed in his typically heedless manner about how well his band had done at their audition, and then Senga told about his night, about how amazing the adrenaline rush of dancing before the eyes of hundreds of people had been. It wasn't until he got to the part where he'd gone to say goodbye to Fujigaya backstage that he slowed, faltered, stopped. Took notice.
The red thread tied to his little finger didn't connect him to Nikaido any more.
The knot had come undone.
Honestly, Senga would have felt better if Nikaido had been more angry about the whole thing than he was. He'd expected some sort of explosion, considering Nikaido's temper, and was surprised at how calmly he'd taken things. It wasn't that he wanted Nikaido to be upset, but wasn't he being a bit too positive about it all?
Nikaido's attitude towards Senga had been a bit distant for a few days, but he was so busy with his band's new record deal that he and Senga didn't spend much time together anyway and the initial coolness quickly disappeared. It wasn't long until Nikaido was again sending Senga emoji-filled mails at all hours of the day and calling him 'Kenpi' and sharing all of his excitement with Senga in equal doses.
For himself, Senga kept vacillating between panic and regret, until finally Nikaido slapped him upside the head ("hope that knocks some sense into your head, numbskull.").
"Don't do that," Senga snapped, and then because he constantly felt guilty these days, "No I didn't mean that, I'm sorry Nika!"
Nikaido looked at him with an eyebrow crinkled in annoyance. "Will you stop that already? I'm tired of hearing you apologize so much."
"I can't help it though," said Senga, plaintively, "I keep thinking you ought to be mad at me..."
"Did you want me to be angry then?"
"No of course not! But-"
"You know," remarked Nikaido in a seeming non-sequitur, "For all the time you spent trying to untangle our threads, they didn't fall apart because you untied them with your fingers. They fell apart because you found somebody who suited you better than me."
Senga didn't know when Nikaido had become such a good actor, but he would surely have missed the slight pucker in Nikaido's lips - the only indication that he was anything but upbeat right now - if he hadn't been paying close attention.
"No one suits me better than you," he interrupted fiercely, but Nikaido rolled his eyes and put a hand up to shut him up.
"Someone clearly does or else this wouldn't have happened. But Kento, it's not like we didn't know this was coming from the day you started picking at those threads. Anyway these threads prove that you're not the one for me either, you know." Here Nikaido grinned and shrugged carelessly; Senga knew Nikaido though, knew that feigning nonchalance was Nikaido's way of diffusing tension. "And that's okay, isn't it? We can still choose to be best friends despite it all."
For a moment, Senga was quiet. Then, "Ugh, did you become actually smart?"
In response, Nikaido threw back his head and laughed, louder and brighter than the comment warranted. Senga, laughing along with him, understood that this, right now, was their moment of catharsis.
It was Nikaido, in the end, who pushed Senga to speak to Fujigaya, going so far as to set up a meeting between the two with the help of a senpai in the guitar department named Yokoo.
"Look, he was obviously the reason all this red thread stuff happened, so you should at least talk to him," he urged Senga, dragging him through empty school hallways on a Sunday. Senga didn't try to resist, though he didn't make any attempts to move forward by himself either, and Nikaido had to literally push him through the door of the practice room where the rendezvous with Fujigaya was to be.
Seeing Fujigaya brought all his feelings of shock and betrayal to the surface again. He didn't feel any hesitation at all before ripping into Fujigaya, bolstered by the fury he felt. He let the accusations fly: that he'd manipulated Senga's emotions with his voice, that he'd tricked Senga into kissing him, that Fujigaya had lied by not telling Senga about his specialized singing talent.
Though if he were going to be totally honest, he relished the opportunity to be angry at someone that wasn't himself.
On his part, Fujigaya just stood there, expression carefully blank, until Senga ran out of steam.
"I don't have that sort of ability you're talking about," he replied then in a voice that was quiet and steady, "I can't force you to feel anything that you don't already feel yourself. Don't use me as a scapegoat for your own choices, Senga."
"But you made me believe," snapped Senga, fierce and passionate.
Fujigaya looked at him intently. "In love?"
And Senga almost said it-almost agreed-even though he was still not sure he understood about love. But he paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "In you."
For a moment, Fujigaya just looked at him, contemplating something that Senga couldn't quite figure out.
And then, before Senga realized what was happening, Fujigaya pulled Senga forward by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, kissed him deeply. It was a softer kiss than the one they'd shared before, this time with Fujigaya taking the lead, coaxing and persuading with his lips until Senga melted against him and responded back.
When Fujigaya finally pulled away, they were both breathing harder than normal, and Senga could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, the way it always seemed to be doing around Fujigaya.
"Do you believe yet?" Fujigaya asked with kiss-swollen lips that Senga couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from.
"I-I don't know," Senga stammered. It felt like he couldn't hear his own thoughts above the sound of his own heartbeats. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he reached to grab Fujigaya's hand, thinking to check the red thread that swung between both of their pinkies.
"It's not a clear line," Fujigaya said, anticipating the direction of his thoughts. "Our destinies are inevitably tangled up with other people. What it comes down to is... it's your choice, Senga."
Senga bit his bottom lip. "What about you? What's your choice?"
For a moment Fujigaya looked at him, mildly surprised, before smiling. "Didn't Yara Sensei tell you that I named you specifically for the solo dance? That was my choice."
When Senga didn't respond to this, Fujigaya reached out for the hand that Senga had let drop to his side a moment ago, lacing their fingers together tightly. He pulled Senga closer until they touched - a knee, thighs, a hip, a shoulder, their clasped hands - and Senga could feel the heat of Fujigaya's body even through their clothes.
"Now there's just you and me, and it doesn't matter about red threads," Fujigaya breathed. "It's just about you, and me, and love."
They were so close now that Senga could practically feel the vibrations of Fujigaya's voice, low and quiet, sending shivers down his spine and making his skin stand up in goose pimples. The distance between his lips and Fujigaya's was so short, almost infinitesimal, so he leaned in and closed it, and made his choice.
From kis_my_fic2
Title: ～Tied
Pairings/Characters: Fujigaya/Senga, Nikaido/Senga
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Senga had always thought that Nikaido was the other person at the end of his red thread of destiny...
Notes: The red thread of destiny is a Japanese legend, which states that the gods tie a red thread around the little finger of each person. This thread connects two people who are destined to be lovers, and can be stretched or tangled but never break. - Wikipedia. Also, I took some very minor liberties with song lyric translations (though the integrity of the songs' meanings shouldn't have been affected).
Senga was almost never in the Vocal Music halls of the Conservatory, being a dance student himself, but destiny (in the guise of Yara Sensei) flagged him down one day for an errand.
He was happy to deliver the missive for his instructor, because the chance for a student to visit departments other than his own was rare and Senga was curious. He'd been down to the vocal department only once before, at the end of last school year when all the seniors had been practicing for their practicum concerts, and it had been wonderful to hear all the melodies resounding through the acoustically perfect hallways. He'd literally floated through dance practice for a week afterwards, which had made his instructors happy.
He was disappointed when he got there however, for it was lunchtime and the hallways were deserted and quiet. His sneakers squeaked against the gleaming floors (so unlike the scuffed and well-worn dance halls) a little, and Senga cringed at the unpleasant sound. It was probably blasphemous, or something, to make such an ugly sound here. So he picked up his feet and danced-that always made him more graceful-to the end of the hallway where Professor Nishikiori's office was located.
“It can't be expressed in words, rooted in the depths
Speak of love and such, a sweet and light tone”
The voice coming out of Professor Nishikiori's office made Senga stop abruptly, arrested in motion like a freeze-frame photo.
It was perfect, he thought, the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. It was soft and smooth, and made him feel as though he were burying his fingers in the most luxurious velvet. It made him feel ache-y inside his chest, mingled desire and hope and a bit of sadness.
"That's just great, Taisuke!" Another voice, steadier but less rich than the singer's, spoke. It was the voice of an older man, and Senga realized this must be Professor Nishikiori speaking. "You've got the emotions down now. Whatever it is you're thinking about right now, keep it in your mind when you sing this song. Now, let me hear you once more. Let's just finish this song, then, shall we, and then I'll let you go to your lunch."
Senga supposed he shouldn't be lurking around the corner eavesdropping like this, but rationalized the thought away by telling himself that he shouldn't interrupt another student's lesson, either. He heard the mysterious student take a deep breath and involuntarily followed suit, anticipating what his ears would hear next.
“The temperature when you're here
Close enough to be touched
In just that distance, I feel heated
The beat is pounding”
As the student started singing again, Senga felt like he was caught under a spell and wondered if this voice was weaving an enchantment over him.
He'd heard of such a skill before, the rare musician or performer who had the power to make listeners cry or laugh at will. There had been the legendary four Dancing Kings, for instance, who'd all graduated from the Conservatory and were famed throughout the nation for their impactful stages. The school had graduated a few vocalists with this talent as well, Senga knew, though he wasn't as familiar with these and had no point of comparison.
As he listened to the singer, he lost himself in contemplation, wondering if this student was someone with that extraordinary talent. The more he listened, the more it felt like there was even more emotion in that velvet voice, as though the heat described in the song were palpable in the air and in the beat was pounding in middle of his chest-
"Hello."
And there he was, the mysterious student with the perfect voice. Taisuke, Professor Nishikiori had called him. He had pouty, kissable lips and long bangs that fell messily into his eyes; he looked beautiful and free and like nothing Senga had ever experienced. Like something out of a dream.
"Hi! I'm-Professor Nishikiori-I mean, I'm not-I'm here to deliver something to Professor Nishikiori!"
"Ah, he's just inside."
"Y-Yeah. Thanks."
"Guess I'll see you around then."
"Ah-yeah..." Senga replied, awkwardly bowing his head in greeting though the student was already walking away from him.
It wasn't until the student pushed through the swinging double doors into the school courtyard that Senga realized he was still staring, mouth agape, heart still pounding in his chest. He wondered what Professor Nishikiori must have thought of him, too, because he was definitely in a bit of a stupor when he'd delivered his note.
By the time he got to the seat Nikaido was saving for him in the school cafeteria, his head had cleared a little. He was able to talk and laugh normally, all the while shoveling his bento into his mouth at his usual rate, yet the unknown student's song seemed to be stuck in Senga's subconscious. More than once he found himself tapping out the rhythm of the refrain on the tabletop, until Nikaido questioned it with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"Why are you so fidgety today?"
Senga didn't respond right away, and when he did, his voice was quiet and a little hesitant, so that Nikaido had to lean in to hear him properly. "Nika, have you ever wondered..."
There was a pause, longer than what would've been natural, before Nikaido prompted, "Wondered...?"
"Have you ever wondered," repeated Senga, more resolutely this time, "about that that tangle in the middle of our red thread?"
Whatever Nikaido was expecting to hear it wasn't this, and he spluttered and choked on air for a moment before recovering. "No," he said firmly, a period audible at the end of his short utterance. He scowled at Senga for good measure and then gave all his attention to the rest of his lunch, closing the topic for further discussion.
Accepting this, Senga didn't press his point though still he watched, thoughtfully, as Nikaido brought his chopsticks to his mouth, as Nikaido reached across the table for a soft drink, as Nikaido picked up his napkin from where it had fluttered to the ground.
As Nikaido moved, the red thread tied to their pinky fingers-the one that connected them and marked them as each other's destinies-stretched and contracted with ease. It was this elasticity that made Senga sure that Nikaido was his fated partner - his soulmate, as was called in all the fairy stories.
The thread was short now, compacted due to their physical proximity. Senga reached out a finger and gently touched the tangle in the center, lost in thought. The thing was, everyone (and he really meant everyone: his parents and grandparents and the emperor and even Miyacchi-and-Tama-chan whose names were practically one word now) had knots and tangles somewhere along the lines of their red threads of destiny.
People didn't question their connections or try to untangle the knots anymore. Physically trying to unknot the threads didn't do any good, and too many of the older generations had wasted away their lives meeting new people, undoing tangle after tangle and in the end dying without having found their destined partner.
Senga sighed. He moved his pinky a little, tugging at the thread just the tiniest bit, to see the way the tangle shifted and rearranged itself.
"Stop that!" Nikaido commanded, exasperated. He reached over and grabbed the length of thread that was tangled with his other hand, blocking it from Senga's sight. "You know it's pointless to even bother!"
"Sorry! I'm sorry," said Senga, snapping out of his thoughts. "I didn't mean to."
At the end of class the next day, Yara-sensei had an announcement for everyone.
"I think you are all aware that at the end of your studies here at the Conservatory, you will each need to hold a concert as a practicum project to showcase all that you've learned before you graduate. Of course all of your practicums are still far off, but there is a graduating senior from the vocal department who is having a concert next month and he wants to have some of you backdance for him on some of his numbers.
"Now, this is a very rare chance for all of you. You'll not only gain experience from performing properly in front of an audience, but also learn a lot about how practicum concerts work. This will definitely give you an advantage over other students when you're preparing for your own as seniors.
"I had a special request from the student's adviser, Professor Nishikiori, to use students from our class, so I expect you all to give a good account of yourself. Additionally, it is for Professor Nishikiori's top student, so we have to make doubly sure of a good performance.
"Rehearsals will begin Wednesday afternoon. Class dismissed."
As the class broke up in murmurs, Yara Sensei called out to Senga, "Kento, can you stay for a moment?"
"There's one other thing that has to do with this concert," Yara Sensei told him as soon as the rest of the students had filed out of the room. "There's a song in this concert of Professor Nishiki's student that he wants to have someone do a solo dance to. He said he'd like it to be more freestyle than choreographed, modern dance style. I thought you would be the best person for this, if you're interested?"
Senga beamed. Yara Sensei was his favorite teacher, but everybody knew that Yamamoto was Yara Sensei's favorite student, so for Senga to be chosen was a tremendous compliment.
"Yes!" he replied without hesitation, "I'd love to do it! It sounds right up my alley!"
When Senga told Nikaido about his good news later, on their way back to the dorms, Nikaido was as happy for him as he was himself. Yara Sensei had mentioned in passing what a good opportunity this was, though Senga and Nikaido would've both known without being told. They were still in their second year, and it usually took twice that long for a student to stand on stage, if not longer. And Senga had been singled out to dance solo, even!
"Dude, don't forget us little people when you become the big hotshot dancer," Nikaido said, grinning and punching him on the arm and bouncing all around him like an excited bunny.
"Shut up!" replied Senga, grinning equally widely, "It's just a school project. Besides, I'd never be able to forget you, you're too annoying." He stuck out his tongue for a brief moment, before he took off running with Nikaido chasing after.
Rehearsals for the vocal student's practicum were set for Wednesdays and Fridays in the late afternoons, when everybody's schedules were open. For Senga, this meant that he had to rush from his last class of the day to the designated practice classroom, which proved to be a small mercy on the first day.
By the time he arrived at the rehearsal room, the rest of the students were already there and the record player was already blasting a song that was full of enticing string instrumentals and a pulsing beat.
“Love and like la la la
In the middle of darkness...”
There it was again, the voice that had stopped Senga in his tracks and shaken him to the very core just a few days ago. This was Professor Nishikiori's top student? Though, Senga reflected, it wasn't really surprising, considering the way this student's singing had such a strong impact on his emotions.
He felt it still, as he paused in the doorway and watched the student (what was his name again...? Taisuke) sing. He felt his whole body vibrate with the music.
Senga chanced a peek into the classroom to see if it had the same effect on the others, if they also felt the physical pull in the center of their chests. They looked normal enough, though Yamamoto seemed to be bouncing over-excitedly on the balls of his feet and Hamanaka's eyes were looking just the slightest bit glazed. Though, to be fair, this wasn't completely out of the ordinary for those two.
His eyes kept going back to the student, however, at the front of the room. Senga found himself attracted to not only his voice, but the sparkle in his eyes and the way he impatiently pushed his unruly bangs out of them...
From the back of the room, Yara Sensei noticed Senga and motioned for him to come inside.
"I'm sorry I'm late!" Senga whispered, trying to bow and put his bag away quietly at the same time.
"You had a class, it's fine," Yara Sensei smiled at him kindly, "That's Fujigaya-kun. I'll introduce you after class." With that, Yara Sensei went to the front of the room to show them the choreography for the song.
It was a more complicated dance than anything they'd done before, and Senga pouted about how hard it was to learn along with the rest of the class even though he was secretly pleased that it required so much concentration. It was confusing, and unsettling, the impact Fujigaya had on his heart.
Senga continued to be grateful for the practices starting so closely after his last class. The sooner he could throw himself into dance practice, the easier it was to convince himself that the blood singing through his veins and the pounding of his heart was due merely to strenuous physical exertion, rather than the influence of Fujigaya's music.
Nikaido had great speakers in his room, with subwoofers that pounded out the beat of a song until the air reverberated with it and made Senga's heart throb along in unison. He loved a good strong beat, loved it when it was so much bigger and more powerful than himself that he couldn't help but jump up and dance along.
They liked to have jam sessions there, Nikaido ripping along with the music on his bass while Senga moved his body, until they were both exhilarated with the effort. Then afterwards, when the adrenaline faded, they would collapse in a pile next to each other on Nikaido's bed and talk about their dreams.
Senga had always wanted to do modern dance when he grew up; he'd known that he was born to dance since he was just a child. But unlike Nikaido, he didn't have any grand plans for his future. "I don't care where I go or how much I get paid," he explained time and time again, "I just want to dance. As long as I can put food in my mouth, isn't that compensation enough for doing what I love?"
But Nikaido only scoffed at this lack of ambition. "You're a moron," he said, "Don't you want to be famous? Stand in the spotlight and have the whole country know your name and girls fall at your feet?"
"That's your dream though," Senga said, shrugging off the desire for fame and fortune easily. He rolled over onto his stomach and smiled at his best friend. "How's the latest band coming along anyway?"
Nikaido was constantly in a new band, playing with new people every few months as each one fell apart due to "artistic differences." (At this, Professor Yamaguchi only smiled and said it was because they were all young still, a statement with which Senga was inclined to agree, though Nikaido preferred to dismiss the idea with a scowl and throw himself even harder each time into the creation of a new band.)
"Pretty good!" Nikaido perked up in answer to Senga's question, bouncing on his mattress a little. "Actually Sanapi and I finally decided on a drummer! We just need a vocalist now."
Senga loved seeing the sparkle in Nikaido's eyes whenever he got excited about a new project, and he grinned now, catching onto the enthusiasm. "Hey, I bet Fujigaya-kun would be a great front man for a rock band," he volunteered.
It took Nikaido a few moments to respond to this, and the way his expression froze was enough to tell Senga that he didn't think particularly highly of the idea. "Oh come on Nika, he has so much talent and charisma."
"...You think really highly of this Fujigaya-kun, don't you." There was a studied sort of nonchalance in Nikaido's voice, and the words were a statement rather than a question.
"Well yeah, he's really talented. When he sings, it really makes me feel the emotions behind his music. That's what I'm going to aim for, too, with my dancing."
"Hmm," Nikaido hummed in a non-committal way.
Senga laughed a little, to ease the tension. "Oh come on, you're not jealous are you?"
Instead of gracing the comment with a reply, Nikaido slapped Senga hard on his back with the back of his hand. Senga retaliated by stuffing a pillow in Nikaido's face, and then the two of them launched into a full on wrestling match on the bed.
For a few minutes it was all limbs and warm skin and hair and fabric in each other's mouths, and laughter and teasing insults flung everywhere, until suddenly Nikaido was lying on top of Senga, faces no more than a handful of centimeters apart.
"I win!" he crowed, eyes shining.
Nikaido's eyes flickered down to Senga's lips for a split second, and abruptly Senga found himself pushing Nikaido off, easily deflecting the older boy with energy he hadn't used in their play-wrestling.
He stood up and turned away as he straightened his clothes, unable to look at Nikaido for a moment. It wasn't that he had anything against Nikaido, or physical intimacy, but somehow those two things together felt wrong to Senga, try as he might to fight the feeling. He knew it wasn't kind to always be pushing Nikaido away, and he was sorry for chickening out yet again, but he couldn't help it. The reaction was automatic, almost instinctual.
"Whatever," Senga said, forcing a smile onto his own face so that he would sound as cheerful as usual, "You only won cause I let you."
"Hey, Senga?"
Shoving the last of his practices clothes into his duffel bag, Senga turned to face the speaker. "Fujigaya-kun! Yes?"
"Do you want to go and get some ice cream or something?"
"What?!" Senga's eyes widened, "I-me?!"
At this, Fujigaya started laughing. "Is there anybody else here named Senga? Besides, I wanted to discuss the other song, the solo dance for you. We should find a time to practice that a bit too, even if it is freestyle."
"Oh." Senga blinked. "Yeah. Of course." Then after an awkward pause, "Ice cream sounds great!"
They didn't have the chance to say a word about the dance, or anything concerning Fujigaya's concert, as it turned out.
As soon as they got to the ice cream parlor, Fujigaya was exchanging greetings with what seemed like everyone there. There was Fumito, the server behind the counter who gave them both extra scoops with a lewd wink; and Koki, dripping ice cream all over the composition sheets laid out in front of him; and Kitayama, who winked at Senga and roasted him for being Fujigaya's latest fling.
"Be careful with this guy," joked Kitayama, poking Fujigaya none-too-gently in the ribs, "He'll steal your heart away with that silver tongue of his and then crush it!" Dramatically, he squeezed his empty ice cream cup until it was crumpled in his palm, then offered it to Senga as an example. "I speak from experience, right Gaya?"
"Shut up." Fujigaya shoved the guy roughly on the shoulder, "Don't listen to this ass, Senga."
Leaning over the glass countertop above the ice cream, Fumito also joined into the conversation. "But Taipi, Kitamitsu's right. You're my heartbreaker~" With a cackle, he ducked out of Fujigaya's reach.
"You guys suck," pouted Fujigaya.
Senga was fighting the urge to laugh at the antics of these guys now, but thought he should at least make an attempt to support his senpai. "Don't worry, there's no risk for me. Fujigaya-kun is only being a nice senpai."
His words were greeted by a shout of laughter from everyone. A boy who'd been sitting so quietly by the window that Senga hadn't noticed him at first spoke up. "Then you're definitely being fooled. Taisuke is totally a wolf in sheep's clothing, ne?"
With a groan, Fujigaya flopped dramatically down into an empty chair. "Not you too Tottsu!"
But his eyes were sparkling, and his shoulders were shaking with mirth, and Senga had a strange, fleeting thought of how nice it would be to be able to hear that laughter every day. He thought that, probably, he was at a lot of risk.
They went to the ice cream parlor a lot after that, and also to tea shops and restaurants that Fujigaya felt were worth recommending. Sometimes it was with Fujigaya's friends, or the guys from Senga's dance class. Sometimes it was just the two of them alone, after practicing by themselves on the solo dance track (a song called 'My Love,' that they did manage to get around to working on eventually and that Senga absolutely loved).
Often Fujigaya would suggest skipping practice-especially the extra sessions for 'My Love' since Yara Sensei left it up to them half of the time-with sparkling eyes and a ready grin that Senga found impossible to resist.
"Fujigaya-kun, we shouldn't. Rehearsals are important if we don't want to mess up during your actual practicum," Senga would object, even as he gathered up his belongings.
But Fujigaya would just wave at him to hurry up and say "I told you to stop using honorifics," blithely ignoring Senga's protests.
Although he was usually an astute judge of character, Senga found himself constantly surprised by Fujigaya. Every time he thought he'd figured the older boy out, Fujigaya went and revealed something about himself that was at odds with what he expected. For instance, he'd thought Fujigaya, as Professor Nishikiori's top student, would be studious and conscientious to a fault, but he was a social butterfly who could talk on for hours if left to his own device with little regard for preserving his voice. And when he thought Fujigaya was a bit shallow and frivolous, with his love of luxury and brand names, it turned out that he liked to read smart books about finance and world politics.
In short, Fujigaya was the most intriguing person Senga had ever met. He couldn't help but keep coming back for more.
Inexplicably, Senga had developed the habit of picking idly at the tangle of knots along the length of thread between him and Nikaido. Whenever they were together, he'd fiddle with it unconsciously, trying to follow a short length of thread through all the myriad loops.
Of course it didn't do any good.
The threads of fate were not to be altered by human hands.
"Stop picking at it!" Nikaido gave an impatient shake of his hand, twitching the thread out of Senga's grasp. "You can't untangle it that way anyway!"
"...Sorry! I don't even realize I'm doing it, really!"
"Ne, Gaya," said Senga one night, as the two of them zipped up their bags and got ready to leave the practice room. They were alone in the classroom, having stayed late for solo practice as usual.
"Hmm?"
"Why did you choose 'love' as the theme for your concert?"
Senga had been wondering this for a long time now. It was a common enough theme, though usually among the girls of the school who liked to dream of rainbows and unicorns still. Love was just a myth, a fairytale ending, something men tended to veer sharply away from.
Fujigaya gave Senga an appraising look before answering. "Because... that's what I'm looking for." Then, as Senga only returned a blank look, he added, "You know, in life in general. I want to find love."
"But," Senga's eyes widened, "But love isn't..."
"...Real?" Fujigaya finished for him.
There was something in Fujigaya's voice, a bit of an amused smile or a hint of condescension, perhaps, that made Senga hesitate a little in his answer. "Well... yeah."
"Anything can be real so long as I believe in it."
"Even," Senga cast about in his mind for a suitable example, "Even unicorns?"
"Even unicorns," Fujigaya affirmed. "But a unicorn is a solid object, so whether it exists or not can be proved through observation. You can't prove to me that love doesn't exist, so I will believe that it does."
He was so sure of himself. In the face of this kind of certainty, Senga was finding it difficult to defend his position, even though he knew his own argument was an empirical truth. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and each person had a red thread to link him to his destiny.
"But what's the point of having love at all?" Senga picked up the argument again as they headed out of the school building, "It doesn't serve a purpose. Our red threads show us who our destiny is, so-"
"I see you're pulling out all the textbook arguments." Fujigaya shrugged carelessly. "These threads that everyone is so concerned about, how can you be sure that they're leading you to the right person when there are so many tangles in everyone's threads?
"Because-because that's how it works! You might as well question gravity, or the fact that the earth is round, while you're at that argument."
"But why? I believe in those things," answered Fujigaya simply.
Senga pointed at Fujigaya's own hand. "What about your own thread? Haven't you ever wondered who it would lead you to?"
Fujigaya held his hand up for Senga to examine the red thread tied to his pinky. There was a knot in his length of thread as well, though quite small, which made a small voice at the back of Senga's head wonder why he didn't simply try to unravel it. "You see? When I lift my hand, it tugs on your thread a little too. Maybe my destiny is you. But you've already found your destiny, haven't you? That dark-haired boy with the guitar case who's always waiting for you over there, isn't it?"
Turning his head to look in the direction Fujigaya had indicated with a jerk of his chin, Senga found Nikaido leaning languidly against a lamppost like a chiaroscuro image in the pool of yellow lamp light. He was so good-looking, thought Senga with a sudden surge of affection. Even if Nikaido didn't make his heart go skipping into his throat - well, you couldn't believe everything in the movies after all. Plus, he and Nikaido had discovered their connection to each other way back when they were just school kids, so they were totally used to each other's existences.
But as he said goodbye to Fujigaya and walked towards Nikaido, Senga wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, they lived in a world without red threads leading them to their destinies, would he have fallen in love with Nikaido?
"Is it just me or is this knot getting smaller?" Senga asked out of the blue one day while lounging around on his bed. He held up his hand to stretch out the thread between them properly, showing Nikaido the lump of knots in the middle. He knew it irritated Nikaido each time he mentioned their red thread, but Senga couldn't help it, the same as he couldn't help trying to untie the knots, the same as he couldn't help but think of Fujigaya whenever he noticed his red thread...
But for once, Nikaido didn't snap at him to stop with this obsession. Instead, he put down his laptop and approached Senga with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Before he realized what was happening, Senga's lips were covered with Nikaido's, hard and demanding. It wasn't a pleasant kiss, too much tongue and clashing, scraping teeth, but it was also hot and wet and electric, so that Senga found himself half hard already by the time Nikaido pulled away.
"Nika," he practically moaned the name, clutching at the older boy involuntarily.
There was that feeling again, that emotional intensity, the tugging in his chest, only this time it was Nikaido, not Fujigaya, making him feel that way. He didn't know what it meant, only that he wanted to reach out and grab hold of the line and tug back, pull Nikaido back into the kiss, and more.
"Nika!"
For once, Senga didn't step back, didn't withdraw from the physical intimacy that Nikaido was asking for. Nikaido pushed Senga back down onto the bed, lying bodily on top of him, kissing him everywhere his lips could reach. Senga could feel the harsh insistence of anger and jealousy burning hot against his skin, wherever Nikaido trailed his lips.
Senga arched up into Nikaido's touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.
An image of Fujigaya came to mind.
He had enough presence of mind to clamp down on his own tongue before he accidentally gasped the wrong name out loud. But he found he couldn't focus anymore, and his mind would insist on thinking of Fujigaya-thinking of him sweaty and triumphant as he always looked after a particularly good rehearsal, or with that look of intense concentration on his face when he focused on his singing-even though he tried to force his thoughts back to Nikaido again and again.
In the end, Senga gave up and pulled away from Nikaido.
"Sorry," he said, "I'm just..." He was just what? His mind drew a blank as he tried to think of a way to finish his sentence. "I'm sorry," he apologized again.
“You are my love, my love, I love you
My love, my love, even if the world changes-”
"Is something wrong, Senga?"
With a start, Senga realized that he'd stopped dancing, and subsequently, Fujigaya had stopped singing. "Oh, no, nothing," he stammered, looking away quickly.
By now it really should have been nothing. They were only days from Fujigaya's practicum concert and they'd spent enough time together now that Senga shouldn't have been affected like this anymore. Senga had though he'd finally gotten used to the impact of Fujigaya's voice - or learned to deal with the feelings, at least. But practicing choreographed moves with a whole group of other people was one thing; watching Fujigaya sing with his closed his eyes from five feet away was something completely different.
Senga could feel his body tensing up with emotions that reflected the words in Fujigaya's song. It was crazy, but his reaction to Fujigaya's singing was always so visceral, physical - blood rushing through his veins and his muscles humming with excitement. If he were to be totally honest with himself, it felt rather like... being aroused.
With an effort, Senga shook himself free of his thoughts. "I guess I just spaced out for a moment, I'm sorry. Let's try it again from the top?"
They stood outside the school's main gates, Senga with a duffel bag of stage clothes and stuff for Fujigaya's practicum concert in a few hours slung over his shoulder, and Nikaido with his bass over his. It was dusk, the sky that particular shade of grayish-blue that makes everything hard to see, so Senga didn't even notice Nikaido leaning in until there was a pair of warm and slightly dry lips pressing against his own.
This time, when he jerked back, it was genuinely out of surprise, not reluctance.
"What-?"
Nikaido shrugged jauntily, thought Senga suspected much of that was bluster. "Kiss for good luck, since I can't make it to see you perform."
Nikaido was off to a last-minute audition for a record label that one of his new band members had scored through connections. This was the first time that either of them had been absent for something major in each others' lives, yet oddly fitting that they were both doing something important to their future careers at the same time.
"Sorry," said Senga, the words slipping out before he could be sure if he was apologizing for pulling back from the kiss or for being unable to accompany Nikaido, who got nervous easily and liked having a hand to hold during auditions.
"Stop apologizing already," Nikaido waved a hand at him, "We're best friends first and foremost, no matter what, right?"
"Yeah," agreed Senga with a small smile, "Definitely best friends."
And then, as Nikaido turned to go himself, Senga reached out to grab Nikaido's wrist, spinning his best friend back for a second kiss.
"For good luck," he whispered, pulling away a moment later. "I know you'll be amazing."
Fujigaya's practicum concert was a huge success.
A group of distinguished professors sat up in the maroon-draped balconies of the school's concert halls evaluating everything from the timbre of Fujigaya's voice, to the ordering of songs in his programme, to the audience's reactions. Senga wasn't an expert on vocal music by any measure, but he didn't need grizzled old men or public opinion to know that Fujigaya was in top form tonight.
Fujigaya sang about angels and Senga felt his soul being lifted, transcended. Fujigaya sang about sin and Senga felt the darkness in his very bones. Fujigaya sang about passion and Senga felt heat tingle spread throughout his body before centering in his groin. Fujigaya sang about love and Senga's heart sang its answer right back in response.
“Look me now...
Touch me now...
Love me now...
Hate me now...!”
Right at the apex of the concert, when the air was thick with emotions and his eyes were half blinded by sweat and spotlights, Senga looked into Fujigaya's eyes and had a strange moment of clarity. It was part of the dance, to circle around Fujigaya and come up in front of him, dragging his hand down Fujigaya's chest and looking into his eyes - but there was something in Fujigaya's eyes as they landed on Senga's that was unmistakably sincere.
Senga suddenly realized that the words Fujigaya was singing were for him, and him only.
Fujigaya was half-hidden amongst the curtains in the dark wings of the stage, watching as the last of the audience filed out of the concert hall, when Senga found him. It felt a little like he'd stumbled into a small pocket of peace and quiet amongst the post-concert chaos. In the backstage proper, the staff were busy putting away stage sets, securing all the machinery, and the billion other little things that needed to be done after a concert. But the heavy velvet curtains reduced the sounds of activity to a distant murmur, as though the rest of the world were fading away from this dark oasis in which only Senga and Fujigaya existed.
He'd come with the intent to say goodbye, to congratulate Fujigaya on a successful concert, and maybe to ask to exchange phone numbers. Seniors didn't come to school any more once they were done with their practicum concerts, and Senga hoped that he and Fujigaya could remain friends, even after the older boy graduated. It was nerve-wracking to ask a senpai for his number, even one as friendly and approachable as Fujigaya, and Senga chose to stay a bit later than the rest of the dancers so he could talk to Fujigaya alone.
Only, as it happened, instead of saying the little speech he'd mentally prepared, he kissed Fujigaya.
There was no time for his brain to catch up to his actions. Fujigaya turned to smile at him, looking so beautifully happy that Senga couldn't stop himself even if he'd realized what he was doing. It felt as though there was some inexorable force pulling him forward, tilting his center of gravity so that it was vital he kissed Fujigaya else he lose his balance and fall off the face of the earth entirely.
So he tilted his head, and matched his lips up to the shape and slant of Fujigaya's lips. Tangled his tongue with Fujigaya's tongue. Tasted the salt of sweat and felt the heat of passion on is own lips or Fujigaya's, he couldn't make the distinction any more.
It felt like it was inevitable. It felt like he was being pulled along by the threads of destiny.
He didn't realize then how much difference one kiss could make.
When Senga and Nikaido met up the next day for lunch and recounting Senga's dance and Nikaido's audition, neither of them noticed at first.
Nothing felt different between them, after all. Nikaido gushed in his typically heedless manner about how well his band had done at their audition, and then Senga told about his night, about how amazing the adrenaline rush of dancing before the eyes of hundreds of people had been. It wasn't until he got to the part where he'd gone to say goodbye to Fujigaya backstage that he slowed, faltered, stopped. Took notice.
The red thread tied to his little finger didn't connect him to Nikaido any more.
The knot had come undone.
Honestly, Senga would have felt better if Nikaido had been more angry about the whole thing than he was. He'd expected some sort of explosion, considering Nikaido's temper, and was surprised at how calmly he'd taken things. It wasn't that he wanted Nikaido to be upset, but wasn't he being a bit too positive about it all?
Nikaido's attitude towards Senga had been a bit distant for a few days, but he was so busy with his band's new record deal that he and Senga didn't spend much time together anyway and the initial coolness quickly disappeared. It wasn't long until Nikaido was again sending Senga emoji-filled mails at all hours of the day and calling him 'Kenpi' and sharing all of his excitement with Senga in equal doses.
For himself, Senga kept vacillating between panic and regret, until finally Nikaido slapped him upside the head ("hope that knocks some sense into your head, numbskull.").
"Don't do that," Senga snapped, and then because he constantly felt guilty these days, "No I didn't mean that, I'm sorry Nika!"
Nikaido looked at him with an eyebrow crinkled in annoyance. "Will you stop that already? I'm tired of hearing you apologize so much."
"I can't help it though," said Senga, plaintively, "I keep thinking you ought to be mad at me..."
"Did you want me to be angry then?"
"No of course not! But-"
"You know," remarked Nikaido in a seeming non-sequitur, "For all the time you spent trying to untangle our threads, they didn't fall apart because you untied them with your fingers. They fell apart because you found somebody who suited you better than me."
Senga didn't know when Nikaido had become such a good actor, but he would surely have missed the slight pucker in Nikaido's lips - the only indication that he was anything but upbeat right now - if he hadn't been paying close attention.
"No one suits me better than you," he interrupted fiercely, but Nikaido rolled his eyes and put a hand up to shut him up.
"Someone clearly does or else this wouldn't have happened. But Kento, it's not like we didn't know this was coming from the day you started picking at those threads. Anyway these threads prove that you're not the one for me either, you know." Here Nikaido grinned and shrugged carelessly; Senga knew Nikaido though, knew that feigning nonchalance was Nikaido's way of diffusing tension. "And that's okay, isn't it? We can still choose to be best friends despite it all."
For a moment, Senga was quiet. Then, "Ugh, did you become actually smart?"
In response, Nikaido threw back his head and laughed, louder and brighter than the comment warranted. Senga, laughing along with him, understood that this, right now, was their moment of catharsis.
It was Nikaido, in the end, who pushed Senga to speak to Fujigaya, going so far as to set up a meeting between the two with the help of a senpai in the guitar department named Yokoo.
"Look, he was obviously the reason all this red thread stuff happened, so you should at least talk to him," he urged Senga, dragging him through empty school hallways on a Sunday. Senga didn't try to resist, though he didn't make any attempts to move forward by himself either, and Nikaido had to literally push him through the door of the practice room where the rendezvous with Fujigaya was to be.
Seeing Fujigaya brought all his feelings of shock and betrayal to the surface again. He didn't feel any hesitation at all before ripping into Fujigaya, bolstered by the fury he felt. He let the accusations fly: that he'd manipulated Senga's emotions with his voice, that he'd tricked Senga into kissing him, that Fujigaya had lied by not telling Senga about his specialized singing talent.
Though if he were going to be totally honest, he relished the opportunity to be angry at someone that wasn't himself.
On his part, Fujigaya just stood there, expression carefully blank, until Senga ran out of steam.
"I don't have that sort of ability you're talking about," he replied then in a voice that was quiet and steady, "I can't force you to feel anything that you don't already feel yourself. Don't use me as a scapegoat for your own choices, Senga."
"But you made me believe," snapped Senga, fierce and passionate.
Fujigaya looked at him intently. "In love?"
And Senga almost said it-almost agreed-even though he was still not sure he understood about love. But he paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "In you."
For a moment, Fujigaya just looked at him, contemplating something that Senga couldn't quite figure out.
And then, before Senga realized what was happening, Fujigaya pulled Senga forward by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again, kissed him deeply. It was a softer kiss than the one they'd shared before, this time with Fujigaya taking the lead, coaxing and persuading with his lips until Senga melted against him and responded back.
When Fujigaya finally pulled away, they were both breathing harder than normal, and Senga could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, the way it always seemed to be doing around Fujigaya.
"Do you believe yet?" Fujigaya asked with kiss-swollen lips that Senga couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from.
"I-I don't know," Senga stammered. It felt like he couldn't hear his own thoughts above the sound of his own heartbeats. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he reached to grab Fujigaya's hand, thinking to check the red thread that swung between both of their pinkies.
"It's not a clear line," Fujigaya said, anticipating the direction of his thoughts. "Our destinies are inevitably tangled up with other people. What it comes down to is... it's your choice, Senga."
Senga bit his bottom lip. "What about you? What's your choice?"
For a moment Fujigaya looked at him, mildly surprised, before smiling. "Didn't Yara Sensei tell you that I named you specifically for the solo dance? That was my choice."
When Senga didn't respond to this, Fujigaya reached out for the hand that Senga had let drop to his side a moment ago, lacing their fingers together tightly. He pulled Senga closer until they touched - a knee, thighs, a hip, a shoulder, their clasped hands - and Senga could feel the heat of Fujigaya's body even through their clothes.
"Now there's just you and me, and it doesn't matter about red threads," Fujigaya breathed. "It's just about you, and me, and love."
They were so close now that Senga could practically feel the vibrations of Fujigaya's voice, low and quiet, sending shivers down his spine and making his skin stand up in goose pimples. The distance between his lips and Fujigaya's was so short, almost infinitesimal, so he leaned in and closed it, and made his choice.