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incommunicado/ˌɪnkəmjuːnɪˈkɑːdəʊ/ adj. not able or allowed to communicate with other people.
He sings song after song, but it's no use.
No amount of screaming himself hoarse to Linkin Park or drowning himself in Adele ballads helps.
He glances at the wall clock: 11 o'clock, meaning that he's been at it for about two and a half hours now.
He puts the microphone down, albeit unwillingly. The walls, he knows, are solidly built, but he doesn't care to find out whether his neighbours love his voice as much as OOR fans do, let alone at this time of night.
He scratches his cheek and neck, more out of wanting to do something than them actually feeling itchy.
His keitai on the coffee table beckons: the craving for an easy dopamine-hit from scrolling through his Insta ever present. He ignores it. Because he knows deep down that it won’t help; the comments are left by nameless strangers that can’t see past his onstage persona.
(Beneath his stream of consciousness, a flotsam of a thought of sending a text message to someome that can, but knowing that it won't - can't - be received. )
A jaw-clenching worry begins to build again, but he silences it, imagining the leftward swipe of a finger towards 'snooze'.
In the silence, his mind picks up its earlier musings.
Try as he does, he can't stop the fragments of his phone conversation with Hiro-kun from swirling around in his head.
Nor can he stop the trajectory of those thoughts: thoughts that end in memories he fears to examine too closely, and that prickly feeling in his eyes and nose that forewarns of imminent tears.
...
The call began with a casual exchange of how they were keeping themselves busy in these unprecedented times, but quickly took an unexpected turn.
Nii-san, sorry for the randomness, but there's this... someone. I... care(?) for this person very much. But how... how do you know if you, nanka, love that person, you know... in that way?
To say he was dumbfounded by the question is an understatement.
In his embarrassment at being put on the spot, he had spouted some generic fluff about racing hearts, having that person preoccupy your mind all the time, and the warm fuzzies. To his credit, his brother did not call him out too harshly on his bullshit.
No offense nii-san, but I'm talking about love love, and not a crush. You know, like you and...
Me and who?
You know... uh...
No, honestly who?
Now that was news to him: whoever this person his brother thought he had feelings for. Were there some rumours circulating online that he unknowingly missed? Which female friend was he smiling and sitting a little too close to, recently?
Uh, never mind then. It seems I was under the wrong impression. Um... so you've never had someone you could hundred percent rely on? Someone you could fully be yourself around, and still be loved for it?
Mmm... sou ka.
Time to man up and admit he wasn't as wise as he wanted to appear to the brother that had always followed his example.
Look, I'm going to level with you here. I honestly don't know if I've ever really loved someone. But if that's your definition of love... how is it different from loving the members of your band? Or your family?
Ha. True. I guess if I had to differentiate... You like being close with your band, but at some point you do need your own space, isn't it? I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's not one person in your band that you can honestly say you wouldn't mind spending 24 hours, 7 days a week with, and be happy about it - is there?
No, I suppose not.
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows them to not to be true.
(An unbidden flash of images from the depths of his unconscious: the very one he can't stop from recalling now.
Of the strange comfort of moving around another with ease as they get ready for sleep, and the almost synchronous turning off of bedside lamps.
Of laying belly-down in the near total dark, in a twin room that really ought to have been re-classified as a queen room, given the measly inches that separate their beds.
Of falling asleep to 'oyasumi's murmured in deep tones and heavy-lidded eyes, then slowly waking and silently watching the other until they rouse.
In his mind's eye, his hand reaches across the mere inches to brush a strand of blonde fringe away, but shies back when he realises what he's doing...
The past merges with the present,and it occurs to him that he can't do it, even if he had the courage to.)
I just want to be next to her, and be there for her, always. One time we had a fight and I didn't want to apologise to her at first since I didn't think I did anything wrong. But one look at her face... I saw how upset she was and I apologised straight away. I just feel so much... respect for her? I dunno...
Respect? Huh, it had never really occurred to him to consider that it was important in a healthy romantic relationship. He had always prioritised chemistry above all.
Deep inside him in that moment, he had felt ashamed his younger brother had it figured that out faster than he did.
(Now, as he sits on his couch with only his thoughts as company, he searches inside himself for insight. He distractedly bites off a hangnail.
Whose opinion did he unfailingly respect? Not as in someone who he looks up to in that distant way you would an idol, but someone he hopes would always see him through a rose-tinted lens, as a lover would?
You know, his mind answers, the answer is near. It bombards him with all the times he's tripped over on stage, or forgotten the lyrics. He recovers with a sheepish smile, and he looks over his shoulder towards...)
He had coughed during the pause in conversation - partly embarrassed at the depth of detail his brother had revealed, partly trying to shake off his own line of thought.
Ano sa, it sounds like you already know the answer to your own question. I'm sorry I don't have much to contribute. Maybe try 'kaa-san; she might be more helpful.
Yeah okay, I guess I do. Thanks anyway.
Thanks for calling. I really appreciate it since we can't see each other. Make sure you stay at home as much as possible and always wear a mask outside, okay?
Sure. You too.... Oh and I really hope Yamashita-san gets better soon. Please send him my well wishes if you can... Demo sa, it would be a real shame if it takes something bad to happen before you...
I what?
Uh, don't worry about it. Nandemonai. Ignore me. Mata ne, nii-san.
The digital twinkle of notes as a phone connection ends.
...
In the present, the faint reminiscence of the digital tune draws his attention again to his keitai.
At length, he concedes to the gravitational pull of the device, like a helpless wave to moon. With a flurry of thumbs, he types out his passcode, the sequence as automatic to him as looking at a certain someone before beginning to sing a song.
He taps on the familiar icon featuring an outline of a camera and is inundated with notifications as per usual. A pleasurable rush of dopamine floods his brain. When the flood recedes, he actually starts to pay attention to the words.
Amongst the endless permutations of platitudes and well wishes, one message catches his eye.
'I hope you realise how much Toru-sama means to you. Stay healthy.'
His mind races:
howmuchtoru-samameanstoyou.
toru-samameanstoyou.
meanstoyou.youyouyou.
toru...
The flimsy mental defences that dam his worry and keep it corralled away from other burgeoning thoughts breaks under such frankness and he is immersed in undeniable truth.
The cold water brings him to his senses, but he finds himself pulled under by the overwhelming undercurrent of worry.
As if through the distorted view of being underwater, he watches himself type out and send a text message that he doesn’t know will ever be received.
Then, neighbours be damned, he picks up the microphone anew and sings the words he longs to say.
...
We are living in the same world?
You and I, though there’s no answer
Someone can try to take credit, but our meeting was destiny
If I can touch your heart
I can tell how you feel
Believing I can create anything
Those other nameless people besides myself
They are all the same, looking like dolls
In this rusting world, I was grasping at uncertainties but
The answer you give me
First love that you brought me...
Why the clouds in my heart?
...
‘Be strong. I’ll be waiting. Come back to me. I respect you so, so much.’
Delivered.
Owari.