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Gagamaru was at his limit.
Actually no, he wasn't.
He was past his limit, way past his limit, and while he wanted nothing more than to go into his dorm and break every single thing that him and his roommate owned he knew he couldn't since he was an adult with a lease and emotional intelligence . He wanted to kick and scream and throw a tantrum like a child because things should not be going this badly for him this early in his life (he was nineteen; in Gagamaru’s eyes shit should not be hitting the fan until his last year of uni at least but here he was, nipple deep in a huge fucking problem at the ripe age of hardly legal) but instead he just laid on the floor, questioning the poor life decisions that brought him there.
“Fuck is wrong with you,” Raichi asked, looking down at Gagamaru.
Gagamaru looked up at Raichi before closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. There were a few viable ways to answer Raichi’s question:
- Some idiot (Junichi) forgot to lock the back door of the coffee shop that Gagamaru was woefully employed at, so when Gagamaru came in to open he was met with the shocking realization that a family of rats came into the shop and chewed into every single one of the coffee bags. Due to this he had to call his manager (Anri, a witch of a woman) and hear her long ass speech about being responsible and shit before being told to simply “handle it” because she wasn't on shift so it simply wasn't her problem.
- His asshole tutor (Ryuusei) blew off their tutoring session right before Gagamaru’s Calculus exam because he was too busy being a menace to society to have time to explain the concepts of the Intermediate Value Theorem. Any other day this would have been fine, but if he doesn't pass this exam Gagamaru is going to fail his entire semester. But of course Ryuusei didn't care because Ryuusei was the fucking worst.
- Mercury was in retrograde.
Since Raichi looked busy (he was wearing a dress shirt and a clip on tie which only meant one thing: Kunigami. Knowing them, Kunigami was probably going to drag him around some art museum and wax poetic about the “contrast” and the “abstraction” of whatever bullshit painting they were looking at, and Raichi would smile and agree even though he didn't know the first thing about art because he loved Kunigami or whatever) so he decided to go with the choice that was easiest for someone as dumb (and uninterested in Gagamaru’s personal life) as Raichi to comprehend: none of the above.
“I’m just mad.”
“Ah. You know what I do when I’m mad?”
Gagamaru shook his head, pressing his cheek against the carpet. It was dirty, so incredibly dirty, but he had no motivation to lift his head up. He imagined that Raichi probably crashed cars or robbed children when he was mad (not to say Gagamaru was opposed to either of those things but he was in no state to take a mugshot right now; he had an acne scar on the side of his nose).
“I go to the practice rooms in Lyon Hall and I just scream. They’re all soundproofed so no one can hear me.”
“That's pretty weird, Rai.”
Raichi laughed and straightened his tie.
“You would think that, but it actually works well,” Raichi said, “I swear it feels amazing and absolutely no one can hear you. I swear someone could get murdered in one of those booths and everyone would be none the wiser.”
“But they would see the evidence.”
“Sure, smartass,” Raichi said, taking a card off his keychain and throwing it at Gagamaru, “But seriously, check it out. Just go backstage and take like two lefts. Name on the door should say ‘Kuon Wataru’”
Gagamaru looked at the carpet (at this point he was just waiting for a roach or a bedbug to come out so he could have some incentive to get off the floor) and sighed. Lyon Hall was at least a 12 minute walk from his dorm, and he was not even dressed, (he was wearing Batman pajama pants and a bright green shirt that was littered with little cartoon frogs holding cartoon books surrounded by little cartoon speech bubbles that read ‘this is ribbiting!’) yet he also had no motivation to change clothes.
People have seen me in worse, he thought, slipping the card into his pocket.
The interesting thing about yelling is how easy one can get carried away. Gagamaru was sitting with his back to the floor, feet on the wall, yelling about god knows what.
At the beginning it was just him screaming, but now he was now forming coherent sentences and ideas; if Gagamaru was to keep up, he would probably have a full diss track produced by four o’ clock.
The door opened (in the midst of his rant about how the concept of Calculus as a whole was stupid, dumb, and probably fake) and a boy looked down at him, seemingly puzzled.
“Can I help you?”
“No,” Gagamaru said, closing his eyes. On any other day, he would probably be embarrassed, but he had more pressing things to worry about than some dude walking in on him screaming about Isaac Newton. Plus, Gagamaru had a special distaste for musicians (and artists—sorry Kunigami) so he didn't feel like talking about his personal problems to one, even if he was the one trespassing in said musicians practice room.
The boy looked down at Gagamaru before shrugging and pulling a violin out of its case. Gagamaru began to sit up, not keen on interrupting the stranger’s practice.
“You—you don't have to leave. You can stay if you’d like,” he stuttered, “I’m Kuon, by the way.”
“I would assume so, your name is on the door” Gagamaru yawned, before adding, “I’m Gagamaru.”
“Cool.”
“Super.”
Kuon laughed (despite the fact that Gagamaru did not say anything funny) and started plucking one of his strings, staring at something on his phone.
“That sounds horrible,” Gagamaru sighed.
“I know,” Kuon agreed, “That's why I have to tune it.”
“Tune it,” Gagamaru repeated, kicking the wall, “Sounds lame.”
Gagamaru and Kuon sat in near silence, the only sounds being the shrill boing of Kuon’s violin and the low drum of Gagamaru kicking the wall. It should have been more awkward than it was, but Kuon didn't seem to care much about Gagamaru’s presence, so in turn Gagamaru ignored Kuon’s as well.
But then again, the sound of Kuon’s violin was so fucking annoying so Gagamaru supposed he could try to make conversation.
“Did you know that violin strings were made from cat guts,” Gagamaru said, staring at the ceiling.
“No they weren't.”
“Yes they were. I read it on Instagram.”
“No,” Kuon laughed, tuning his string for the fortieth fucking time , “They were made from catgut, which is another name for sheep intestines.”
“You say that like that’s not still gross.”
“Fair point.”
Gagamaru sat up so his back was on the wall and his legs were flat on the floor (the way God had intended). In this position he finally got a good look at Kuon (previously he had just been looking at his shoes—a slightly dirty pair of Nike Air Maxes) and while he couldn't say he was disappointed, he also was not impressed.
From what Gagamaru could see (which was admittedly not much since Kuon’s back was turned to him) he seemed tall (he towered over Gagamaru but, again, Gagamaru was sitting down) and he had longish brown hair, a piece of it being held back with a Hello Kitty barrett. He was wearing a jean jacket, despite them being in an air conditioned room in the middle of August . The whole ensemble (jean jacket, white shirt, blue jeans; the works ) were reminiscent of those H&M advertisements that Gagamaru would pass on the street; It was absurd that Kuon would dress so nicely just to go play violin in a 5 by 5 foot room with seemingly no one to impress but himself (granted Gagamaru was there too but Gagamaru was basically breaking an entering. Plus, he was already easily impressed, not that Kuon would need nor desire to impress him) but Kuon was a musician and Gagamaru never had the best track record with his kind anyway.
“Do you think I sound good,” Kuon asked, turning around to face Gagamaru, “I feel like something is off.”
Oh.
Gagamaru was not one for dramatics, theatrics or bold confessions (he hated musicians and artists for a reason—histrionics was only one part of it) but if he did have to confess something it would be that he found Kuon really attractive. It still didn't change anything (Gagamaru would give anything to smash that stupid violin into a million little pieces) but it was just something to consider.
“In all honesty, I wasn't paying attention.”
Kuon frowned, pouting at Gagamaru before turning back around. “I’m gonna play you something. Tell me if it sounds off.”
Gagamaru shrugged; he didn't have much of an ear for music so he wasn't quite sure what Kuon possibly wanted him to say.
Kuon played the first chord and Gagamaru could feel his eyes grow heavy. Classical music just so wasn't his thing—if he wanted something to lull him to sleep he would listen to whale sounds or pop a xanax or two (hundred). And while Kuon did not sound bad , Gagamaru also wasn't the one to know if he sounded good .
“Do you want my honest opinion?”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“The song sounds boring. It made me sleepy.”
“How,” Kuon asked, “It’s like—145 BPM. It’s not slow.”
“Funny of you to assume that I know what a BPM is.”
Kuon shook his head at Gagamaru before looking back at his sheet music. “It’s Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 9. My director wants me to do a solo.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“You say that like I know who Beethoven is.”
Kuon gasped, putting down his violin. “You have to be joking.”
“I’m not.”
“But Beethoven—he's one of the most influential artists of this era!”
Despite his good looks, Gagamaru was certain that Kuon was the biggest idiot nerd geek that he had ever met. If he was any more delusional , Gagamaru would find it kind of cute.
“That’s a lie,” Gagamaru yawned, “The most influential artist of this era, dead or alive, is Pitbull. ‘Calle Ocho’ is a lyrical masterpiece.”
“You know, it's hard to tell when you're being serious.”
“I’m being serious right now.”
Kuon rolled his eyes and played another chord, this one more high pitched than the next. If Gagamaru didn't know any better he would think that his strings were one wrong swipe away from snapping, but Kuon probably knew his own instrument better than Gagamaru. He continued practicing, each second sounding more boring than the last, and before Gagamaru knew it he was slowly drifting off.
“You actually weren't kidding, huh,” Kuon said, tapping Gagamaru’s shoulder with his foot.
Gagamaru rubbed his eyes, slowly lifting himself off the floor.
“Nope. Classical music sucks.”
Kuon smiled at Gagamaru and Gagamaru squinted. He still wasn't sure what this dude’s deal was; he doesn't get mad when he finds Gagamaru in his private practice room, he doesn't get mad when Gagamaru insults his craft and now he was taking time out of his day (granted, it only took like 15 seconds tops for Gagamaru to wake up but still) to wake up Gagamaru after he fell asleep due to Kuon’s boring ass violin playing.
“What time is it?”
“Almost seven,” Kuon said, checking his phone.
Gagamaru stretched his arms over his head, “I should get going then.”
“Let me walk you back to your dorm,” Kuon said, putting his violin into its case.
It was a loaded offer—it’s not like Kuon and Gagamaru were friends or anything (Gagamaru simply sat with him in his practice room and listened to him play violin—an instrument that he personally cared nothing about—because he had nothing better to do) and only a friend (or someone who was interested in Gagamaru but Kuon—musical prodigy Kuon, probably also a part time model Kuon—was not interested in Gagamaru so that was already out of the question) would offer to walk a quarter mile with him for absolutely no gain.
But the company was alright he supposed, so Gagamaru shrugged and tried his hardest to feign indifference.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Kuon smiled (the reason for this was unclear to Gagamaru. He was an enigma wrapped in a riddle and tied in a paradox it was super fucking weird and it gave Gagamaru those nasty stomach butterflies that people talked about) and swung his backpack around his shoulder. Gagamaru followed behind him.
“So, what kinda music do you listen to,” Kuon asked.
“Pitbull.”
“And?”
Gagamaru put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “I like Southern All Stars.”
“You’re lying; I love Southern All Stars!”
“Why would I lie to you. We’re best friends,” Gagamaru deadpanned. Kuon playfully punched him on his shoulder, crossing his arms. He looked cute—as cute as someone who played a shitty stringed instrument like the violin could be.
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Kuon finally spoke up.
“So why were you screaming earlier,” Kuon asked, before quickly adding, “It’s fine if you don't wanna tell me though. I don't want to pry.”
Gagamaru shrugged. “Shitty day. My boss is an asshole. My math tutor is an asshole. Nothing new.”
Kuon laughed. “My old math tutor was a jerk too. He was this tall guy named Ryuu—”
“—sei Shidou,” Gagamaru finished, laughing to himself, “I am familiar with him.”
Kuon laughed and Gagamaru found himself laughing with him, their shoulders brushing together from the narrow state of the sidewalk. Gagamaru saw the front of his building and frowned, a small part of him eager to continue talking with Kuon.
“This is the place,” Gagamaru said, giving Kuon a closed mouth smile, “Thanks for...whatever.”
“You're welcome. I enjoyed our date.”
“Date? This was not a date.” Gagamaru scoffed.
“Coulda’ fooled me.”
“What part of this ,” Gagamaru said, motioning between him and Kuon, “Screams ‘date’ to you?”
“Well first I serenaded you and then I walked you home and now you're debating whether or not you're gonna grow some balls and kiss me,” Kuon explained, “So maybe it doesn't scream date but it definitely whispers it.”
“I don’t—I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Buns,” Kuon said, turning around.
Gagamaru blinked. Did he want to kiss Kuon? Granted he wouldn't be opposed to the idea (Kuon was incredibly attractive, you see, and Gagamaru was a visual creature before all else) and he did spend the entire day with him for absolutely no reason.
“Wait—”
“ Yes ?”
Gagamaru walked up to Kuon, cupping his face and kissing him softly. Kuon kissed in the same way that he played violin— pretty good , but Gagamaru was no aficionado on the subject so he had nothing to compare it to. In the back of his mind he remembered that Kuon was definitely friends with his roommate so Gagamaru probably was going to get his ass kicked by Raichi (the boy was very territorial over everyone in his circle. He was like a dog) but it didn't matter because in the moment everything was amazing and Gagamaru was having the best day ever and nothing could top it.
“So. First date. What’s your rating,” Kuon whispered against Gagamaru’s lips.
“6/10. Too much violin.”
Kuon laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind for date #2.”