Chapter Text
The last note rings out across the studio, going on and on until there’s no sound left. When it’s finished echoing, a smile of satisfaction adorns the face across from him, although his eyes are looking for approval. With a tiny nod and proud grin, Shouto applauds his student.
Eiji is full on grinning now, happily accepting the praise. Though the way Shouto showed his pride and affection for him was nearly unnoticeable, Shoutoactually was nearly overflowing with it. Eiji had been working on this piece for a few weeks now, and had been wanting to learn it ever since he first walked into the studio and began his first lesson. He took immediate initiative. It had taken him a while—the arrangement was in the higher intermediate to advanced area and Eiji was a beginner still—but the little boy had never given up, even when things had gotten particularly difficult. When Shouto learned from the boy about the piece and had listened to it and looked over the sheet music, he knew he would need to do a little bit more teaching first, actually get him into piano, but they set a goal. Eiji had agreed, and they had gotten to work.
As they were working on the beginning stuff, Eiji was enthusiastic about learning the song and learning it quickly, so Shouto offered to find an easier arrangement, or even write one himself, that he could play at his level, but Eiji refused, wanting it to sound exactly the way he had first heard it, and wanting to actually be able to play piano. Not just this one song. Shouto was pleased, to say the least. From what he knew, most children his age or even older kids to adults would give up or be put off by the thought of a challenge. Yes, he was very pleased. He was also very excited to teach him. After all, it’s not everyday your first student turns out to be an outstanding one.
They had started with the basics; simple scales, easy songs, and beginner chord progressions. His student learned each with the ease of a practiced pianist. Then, they got into theory, which actually took a shorter amount of time than Shouto thought it would, as he had struggled in school when theory was being taught, but Eiji took it all in stride, happily absorbing information like a sponge.
He could admit he was slightly jealous. Theory was one of the things most music students struggled with, but for some it just clicked, just as it had with Eiji. Shouto finds himself wishing that he was the same. Homework would have been easier. The class would have been easier in general. Though, in the end, after all that struggling, Shouto was able to pass it.
Eji practiced and practiced, and Shouto could tell he had been practicing some more at home because soon, Eiji was able to read music almost effortlessly, and played songs in the intermediate level with ease. After a little bit more practice and fine tuning, he was ready.
After extensive research, they found the sheet music and printed it out, listened to the song, then got started. Measure by measure, note by note, the song started to come together, harmonies flowing. Every time Eiji was able to complete a part of the song and play it perfectly, he was full of so much joy, that he was practically glowing. Every time he smiled excitedly at Shouto, he couldn’t help but smile back. He was finding his own joy in Eiji being happy.
And, honestly, why shouldn’t Eiji be? Shouto knows for a fact that in the amount of time that Eiji took to learn piano and play at the level he was at, Shouto wouldn’t even be able to play Brahms’ Lullaby. To Shouto, Eiji was somewhat of a prodigy.
Before Shouto knew it, they were done, and Eiji was practically vibrating from excitement to play it for him, like he was about to perform his own little concert. Shouto remembers when he used to get like that. It always felt nice. The sound of the piano in his ears, music seeming to flow through the room and weave a little string around his heart, adding to the collection and keeping it there for years to come. No matter how many people were in the room, whether it be two or two thousand, he played the best he could, all nerves gone once his fingertips touched the piano and the concert hall was filled with his hard work that he was excited to show off.
All of that may be over for Shouto, as he has taken to other things in his life, but it was still lovely to see another person experience it.
And, now, as he sits here looking at his young pupil with stars practically beaming out of his eyes, he can’t help but be proud.
“Well done,” he says. Eiji beams harder.
After a little bit of critiquing and review, they exit the practice studio and meet Eiji’s parents in the main area of the music store. They talk about what they did for today’s lesson, Eiji bouncing around and inputting his own comments in the pauses, then discussing the dates for the recital and future lessons. After paying for today, they chat for a little bit, then part ways, Eiji waving enthusiastically as they leave. As always, Shouto waves back.
“Good day, huh?”
Shouto turns toward the source of the question. Sero leans over the counter, his head propped up in his hands and a toothy grin on his face, stretching from ear to ear, his eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” Shouto replies. Sero chuckles and starts wiping down the counters and the instruments. They begin their cleaning routine.
Shouto takes the vacuum out of the closet in the back and begins cleaning the floor.
Over the sound, he and Sero talk.
“So, how’s little Eiji doing?” Sero asks.
“He’s doing great. He’s improved so much since his first class, at a really fast rate, too,” Shouto replies.
“Really, now?”
“Yeah.”
Sero smiles and moves on to the next instrument. “Well, Yuki’s getting better every day! His little fingers are flyin’ on the strings and honestly, I think he’s got some huge potential. He might be a star someday!”
A chuckle and then comfortable silence. Shouto finishes up with vacuuming the floor then moves onto his next task, reorganizing the displays. Sero finishes what he was doing too, then comes to help him. Shouto picks up a CD and smiles fondly at it. A compilation of Tchaikovsky’s most well known compositions. Tchaikovsky is one of his favorite composers. Well known, and one of the first composers, other than Mozart, that is, that comes to mind whenever someone mentions classical music to someone who isn’t well-versed, but Shouto still holds his music close to his heart. His mother always played it around the house when he was little.
“Still listening to that boring old stuff?” quips Sero. He picks up a tiny pink kids’ ukulele and moves it to another spot, rotating it in different directions in hopes of making it look appealing to customers.
Shouto huffs. “Classical isn’t boring. If you actually give it a try, you may enjoy it.”
Sero laughs. “Yeah, I’d rather not fall asleep on the job.”
“Why would you fall asleep? It can be exciting. And even if it was softer, I think it would be helpful in relaxing—”
“Ah, here we go.”
This is how the process normally goes. They clean, talk about their students, Sero makes comments on Shouto’s music choice, to which Shouto always replies with the same thing (his own little speech on how classical music is actually not boring), and somehow, in the middle of it, they end up having a friendly music duel.
Don’t ask.
Afterward, they reclean the instruments, and lock up for the next shift. Kou’s Music Shack, Kou’s for short, has weird hours. Seven in the morning to one in the afternoon, then three to eight. Two five hour shifts. No one knows why. Or who Kou is.
“You got anything in mind?” Sero asks as he turns the key in the lock.
“What?” That was random.
“Ya know, anything you wanna learn? Or any tunes running through your head that you want to make something out of?”
“Where’d that come from?”
“I dunno, I was just wondering since I started on something new. I think Denki might like it. Also, I’m just curious.”
Shouto pauses. He thinks. He wants to say no, but that would be a lie, and he’s known Sero for so long that he would know if it was. He frowns. Yes, there is one.
Well, was .
And yes, Shouto still wants to work on it, the melody still playing over and over again in his head, a constant reminder, but he can’t bring himself to. It’s been untouched for about a year now. It’ll probably stay that way.
“You okay—”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Shouto cuts Sero off. Sero cringes a little, then gives him a knowing look.
“So there is one, but…” he trails off.
“Yeah,” Shouto finishes.
“Oh.” It’s all Sero says.
The rest of the time locking up is spent in silence.
They exchange goodbyes, and head their separate ways, Sero heading over to Denki’s house and Shouto on his way home. Shouto unlocks his car in the near-empty parking lot, wrenches open his mismatched driver’s side door, and pulls away, staring at the music shop, suppressed memories attempting to break through.
Shouto sighs. Only when he merges onto the highway does he realize that he has no music playing. He sighs again, plugs in his phone, and waits for Apple Music to choose whatever song it decides to play. It takes a few moments, but then the first song comes on.
It’s a song he hears a lot in the music store. Since employees are allowed to play their own music, as long as it’s clean, Sero likes to take over the AUX cord as many times as possible, and play his music over the speakers. He and Shouto don’t share the same taste in music, and normally Shouto doesn’t particularly like Sero’s choices in songs, but this song is one of the exceptions. With a good beat and a common but appealing melody, Shouto would almost say that, as Sero says, it slaps.
He bobs his head along to the drums, doing some drumming of his own on the steering wheel as he waits for an opportunity to pass the car that is slowly puttering along in front of him, going way under the speed limit, in about the same condition of his own beat-up Toyota, if not in a little worse condition. Soon, the song finishes, and more songs play after it, all familiar to Shouto, with a hint of nostalgia from a place that Shouto can’t quite put his finger on.
Or, at least he can’t until this one.
He hears the voice count in, then the ukulele, and is thrown back in time like he never has been before. He looks over at his dash and sees the title of the song:
“I Do Adore”.
As the singer’s voice comes in, a blinding smile appears in his vision. Freckles scrunching as he sings, eyes crinkling, happiness written on every inch of his face. His green curls that matched his eyes bouncing. When he sang, Shouto absolutely melted, just like the song said, and just watched as he would dance around, hitting some notes and missing others, but showing no care in the world. He would waltz over, poke Shouto on the nose with a little “boop!” and continue, laughter in his tone. Shouto would always blush, grinning and laughing along as he watched him sway his hips to the beat and sometimes even snap his fingers or clap. Shouto would sometimes join him, or even play the song on the ukulele sitting around the apartment for him to sing along to. It was something they did often, and it made his heart sing.
As the memory disappears, he recognizes just what his phone had decided to play.
It was the playlist Izuku had put together for him so he could try new music, because he had always said, “Listening to the same thing over and over fifty billion times’ll drain all of the serotonin out of a song! You should try some other stuff!” and added a new song every day, just so Shouto had something new to listen to on his way to work. Shouto had frowned and denied his statement, but acquiesced and listened anyway. It was songs that he had heard in the subway station that he had liked, or on the radio, or just anywhere out in the world. It never failed to make Shouto smile when a song he had never heard before came on as he shuffled the playlist.
Now, it just makes his chest tighten uncomfortably.
Izuku had stopped adding to it. Shouto had stopped listening to it. So, of course, on the same day that Sero mentioned the song that was supposed to be his, beginning to fill his thoughts with ones of Izuku, the very playlist he made just had to come on. It’s almost like the world just really wanted to remind him of what was. And what could have been.
But wasn’t.
The song ends, but Shouto is still stuck on him. What was he doing now? Was he at his favorite bar that they used to spend their nights at? Or was he just relaxing in his living room, chilling, watching television? Was he finding new music? Was he still in school? Was he still pursuing his dream of helping people?
Izuku had always said he wanted to be a hero, and that was one of the things he loved about him. When Izuku told him about his dreams of going to med school to be a doctor, Shouto fully supported him. In fact, Shouto was ecstatic, because every time Izuku talked about a new medical discovery, or ranted to him about doctor shows on TV, or talked about different ways different things could be treated, he was always so full of enthusiasm, and pursuing the profession meant Shouto would see more of that, and that made him happy. He was happy if Izuku was happy.
I hope he is now.
He loved being with him, he truly did. Life was good, really good.
But they say all good things have to come to an end at some point, don't they?
And that it did.
It was stupid. He knows that for sure, and he knows it wasn’t his fault, but he can’t help but blame it on himself. It was one little fight, really little, but since it was so little and they never came back from it, maybe they just weren’t meant to be.
Izuku was in his third semester of med school. He was getting really stressed out from his workload and finances, and tensions between them were beginning to appear, he admits, but they were so little that Shouto thought they wouldn’t even matter.
They lived in separate apartments in different parts of the city, Shouto taking a half hour train ride to visit him, but he didn’t mind. Izuku’s apartment was… run down, to put it nicely. The whole building was. Shouto’s apartment was much nicer. Much, much nicer, the water and heating working all of the time instead of sometimes, and the paint not peeling off of the walls. Shouto wanted to ask him to move in with him, but he seemed happy where he was, so he put it off for a bit longer.
But one night Izuku was looking particularly stressed, so Shouto offered to help out with everything. Izuku declined the first time, but when Shouto pushed more, he noticed Izuku start to get angry.
He didn’t know why. Maybe it was his stress , he thinks, Maybe that was what put him on edge. He still doesn’t know. After all, he was only trying to help.
The more Izuku started to push against him, the more he started to push back. Maybe that was his first mistake.
Shouto started to get angry, because—
“I just want to help you!”
“Just drop it,” Izuku said.
The argument had escalated until they were both shouting. Until they weren’t.
“Please, Izuku—”
“Shouto, no. I just—I can’t…” he trailed off. Izuku had sighed and had choked back a sob—he could tell he tried to hide it, but it was too obvious—and pointed to the door behind him. “Just… just go, Shouto.”
“Wait, please—”
“ No , Shouto, please go.” His voice shook as he spoke. Shouto watched as Izuku stared at his feet. He stood there for a few seconds.
Then turned as silently as he could and left.
The next day, he got a message.
Izuku <3
<i think it would be better for the both of us if we took a break
<just for a little while
He replied with:
As long as it eases your mind a bit, that’s fine. I am willing to wait.>
He never got a text back.
The train ride back home was one filled with held-back tears and untouched headphones, because even though he loved music, he couldn’t bring himself to plug in, even if it were to drown out the events of the past hour. To him, no song at the moment would cheer him up.
Sad.
He had told Sero about it. Sero was kind, as usual, and took him out to get drinks. They did their usual shenanigans together, and somehow ended up at Kaminari’s house binge watching the Barbie movies and eating all of the junk food in his pantry. Shouto cried on Kaminari’s shoulder, and it may have been from that night, or just from the fact that he got Cheeto dust in his eyes, but it still helped.
Shouto couldn’t have been more grateful.
If it wasn’t for them, he probably would have been stuck on that night for a lot longer, his head buried in his pillows and blankets, food forgotten for days. He is glad to have friends like them.
He got better after a few more days and outings like that.
And here he is now. He kind of wishes that he tried harder to get him back, but his happiness was his priority, so if distance was what made him happy, he would comply. He really should have—
“Holy shit —”
He jerks the wheel to the left to avoid colliding with another car, who is completely stopped in the middle of the road on the bridge he’s driving on. He almost honks at them, but then he realizes that there are other cars doing the same.
“What the…”
He slows to a stop, and then he finally feels it. A terrible shaking.
Earthquake.
He jumps out of his car, and takes in his surroundings. People are doing the same, some more hysterically than the others. So far, only the cars are shaking, but then he hears a massive CRACK . The noise level rises considerably to his right, so he whips around to look for the reason. He finds it.
A massive split has appeared in the bridge. The same bridge that is no longer safe to be on.
He stumbles out of the way as the first wave of people start scrambling past him to get off the bridge and grabs onto one of the support beams for it. He stands there, almost in shock, as the earthquake goes on for a few more minutes, then dwindles to a stop. There’s silence, then more creaking and cracking as the bridge starts to break a little more.
A notification pops up on his phone. It’s an emergency alert.
SPECIAL ALERT
AN EARTHQUAKE HAS BEEN REPORTED IN TOKYO, JAPAN. CONFIRMED 6.6 MAGNITUDE. EPICENTER CONFIRMED TO BE IN THE GENERAL AREA OF SHIZUOKA. PLEASE TAKE NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS FOR THIS EMERGENCY.
Shouto almost drops his phone.
Shizuoka? That’s…
“Oh… oh my God,” Shouto croaks, “That’s where…”
Shouto knows this earthquake wasn’t the strongest one Japan has ever had. Sure, 6.6 can do some damage, but it normally wasn’t total decimation.
But remember how Izuku’s apartment was run-down? Well, it was run-down and old. Old enough to not have been rebuilt and reinforced with the new technology put in structures to prevent severe damage from earthquakes. Meaning Izuku was in danger. Serious danger.
Suddenly, questions pop into mind.
What would happen if we were together still?
If we switched places, would Izuku come rescue me?
If we knew about it in advance, would he come for me before it happened?
If we both were going to die, and if the world was ending, would he want to spend his final moments with me?
Shouto pauses. Would he? he wonders. The thought bounces around for what feels like forever. He comes to a conclusion:
I know I would.
From what he knows about him—loving, kind, selfless Izuku—he would. He would risk his life for the people he loves, for his friends, his family, his people. He would come to him, right? He would want to be with him, right?
Shouto doesn’t realize what he is doing until he nearly trips over a buckle in the road. His feet fly over the cracks, the light from the setting sun pouring over the pavement. He weaves around cars and dodges hysterical people, all screaming for their loved ones, crying out into their phones. Sirens wail in the distance. The waves of the river below have doubled in size, crashing against stone walls and washing over docks and piers, rocking boats almost to the point of tipping over and capsizing.
More people are starting to run away now, away from the epicenter in fear of more powerful aftershocks, but Shouto doesn’t follow them, oh no. Shouto doesn’t run with the stream, but against, fighting through the sea of panicked people. He doesn’t run away. He runs towards.
Because Izuku wouldn’t—because Izuku would come for him, right?
He would save him, right?
Right?