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He knew perfectly well what his role was in the band. That had never been cause for doubt in his head. He liked what he was doing and knew it was necessary.
He was the base of everything.
He sustained the music so Katsuki could lose himself in his insanity and pain, expressing them with his usual mastery. He sustained the music so Kirishima and Kaminari could color it to their liking. He sustained the music so Mina could give it weight and consistency.
And in that moment, as he listened to the words of pure agony coming from the vocalist's lips, he knew that he would once again be the foundation of that song.
Katsuki sang with the right rhythm but no definite melody. He was singing what was inside his chest in such strong and powerful lyrics that Shouto was sure he had never heard anything of that level from his band mate. It touched his heart in some unknown, deep way. Katsuki was suffering, clearly and evidently, but he had managed to turn that pain into an absolute work of art. And it would be him, Shouto, to sustain and shape his creation.
Kirishima and Mina looked at the blond with visible concern, but dared not say anything as he sang. Shouto knew that nothing should be said; there was nothing that could be explained. They all knew the reason for that suffering, there was no point in asking Katsuki to speak. He was already expressing it all with his song. None of them, however, seemed concerned with helping that kind of expression. Katsuki needed to sing, he needed to let out what had destroyed him from the inside out.
So Shouto made a decision, right after the vocalist finished singing his lyrics; that song came from deep within the blond’s core, and it was from within him that the melody would be removed.
He held his bass and approached Katsuki, sitting in front of him and looking at him in the eye. The other band members seemed startled by his actions, but said nothing, content to just observe what they were trying to do. He thanked them mentally for this fact, for he did not intend to answer any questions or doubts; he had a mission at that moment.
He propped the bass on his chair, placing one of his big hands on the left side of Katsuki's chest. The blond was startled, frowning almost indignantly at being touched without his permission, but Shouto ignored him.
“Close your eyes and sing again. Give me your best.” He demanded, his voice as impassive as ever.
Katsuki stared at him for long seconds, not understanding his intentions, but trusted their friendship enough not to challenge him. Shouto felt him take a deep breath, his heartbeat strong and steady, and then he had what he needed and wanted.
The first words that left Katsuki’s lips were as soft as the music demanded and Shouto felt that strong chest vibrating against his hand. He stared at the floor, concentrating only on what he was doing, and then he got exactly what he wanted: the changes in Katsuki’s heartbeat.
Katsuki was not simply a singer who used his voice as an instrument. No. Katsuki sang with his whole body. On the outside and, as Shouto could feel at the moment, on the inside as well. His heart skipped with each change of pace, quickening and beating as if driven by his singing voice. The vibration of the voice only added to that tangle of emotions, its sound creating a complex melody in Shouto's mind.
He found himself repeating the lyrics inside his own head, being rocked by the rhythm of Katsuki's body. By the strong beating of his heart, the steady, aching voice, the almost imperceptible movements he made. He realized that there, at that moment, he had been able to rip the melody out of Katsuki, turning it into the music that both tormented and soothed the blond at the same time.
Shouto withdrew his hand from the blond’s chest when he realized that Katsuki had finished singing, panting and confused, looking at him with vulnerability. Shouto nodded at him, respect and understanding visible in his eyes, and pulled the bass back into his lap. The rest of the band looked at him in surprise and he could hear Mina and Kaminari muttering something that he didn't really pay much attention to. His focus was there, before him, inside him, and nothing could change it at that moment.
Shouto strummed the thick strings with fingers, seeking the perfect vibration for what he had in mind. He knew what he needed to do; he had felt the rhythm inside Katsuki and now he had to put it in the real world. Shouto had to make the blond’s torment come out, he had to take the sound from inside his body and transmutate it into music.
The first chords reflected Katsuki's heartbeat. Strong, unrestrained, rhythmic. He muttered to himself the lyrics he'd heard before, pacing the vibrations felt by his hand. The blond’s heartbeat, coupled with the echo of the voice against his chest, made the melody perfect for the music created. He noticed that Katsuki followed him, singing again to the sound, his voice choked with emotion. He had understood what Shouto was doing and it made the dual color haired man turn to look at him, feeling shocked by the expression on his bandmate’s face.
It was as if Katsuki was naked before him; there was no more mask of anger and irritation, there was nothing else he could do to stop Shouto from seeing deep inside him.
Shouto continued to play, reproducing the sounds he heard before until the end of the song, which made him remove the bass from his lap and rest it on the chair.
Shouto knew he wasn't normal, that he wasn't like the others, after all, his autism made him neurologically different. But he understood emotions, even though he didn't know how to express them. He understood the pain, suffering, and fear, for he had felt so much of it in his life before them , the people that made him smile and feel things . Before Katsuki. Before Kirishima and Kaminari and Mina. Before the band. Before he had found a reason for existing.
And looking at the blond, Shouto could see that his reason really was a good one. Shouto was not a fantastic lyricist like Katsuki, not full of pomp and aggression. He was not a star. Shouto was ... Shouto. A creator, a transformer, the shadow that held the light of all the members of his band. The base of all the sound that was produced. Who held the pace for the music to follow. Who gave support to the sound so that everyone could express themselves.
Katsuki was breathing heavily, unsure of what to say, and Shouto put a hand on his shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him.
“Now your music exists outside of you.” He declared, his eyes widening when Katsuki's strong tattooed arms wrapped around him in an unexpected hug.
Shouto could again feel the beating of the blond’s heart, completely out of rhythm, beating like crazy. He could again hear the music that existed inside Katsuki’s body, chaotic and insane, like the other man was. And that made him want to smile. But before the gesture could be executed, delicate arms wrapped around his waist, followed by two other pairs.
He allowed himself to close his eyes and feel the bodies of his friends and bandmates, all as emotionally shaken as Katsuki himself. Mina cried, her tears wetting Shouto’s shirt as Kaminari mumbled something about him, Shouto, being a genius bastard. Kirishima held both Shouto and Katsuki as tightly as he could, as if that was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. And Shouto knew it was.
He knew how much they were all on edge, trying to pull Katsuki together so that he wouldn't fall, trying to save him as they held each other in their lead singer’s pain and despair. And despite everything, Shouto was the happiest he had ever been in his life, because, for the first time, he knew he was in a place to which he belonged.
A place where he was needed. A place where he was loved.
A place that was uniquely his own.