Chapter Text
Mafuyu had only really come to SYH’s show because Akihiko told him to. Apart from a good morning text most days, which Mafuyu rarely responded to, and a few conversations in hallways that he always was the first to walk away from, he and Uenoyama hadn’t really talked recently. He knew that his sulking was making the situation worse, but he couldn’t really help it. He didn’t like his boyfriend making music without him. He was worse to Hiiragi, downright rude the few times Mafuyu responded to him. But unlike with Uenoyama, Mafuyu didn’t feel guilty about that. It was all Hiiragi’s fault anyway. But Uenoyama sent him a text yesterday that read:
Sorry for being so distant lately, I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as possible. I really hope you’ll come to the show tomorrow, it’ll be nice to see you outside of school. I miss you x
He knew enough about his boyfriend to know that the ‘I miss you x’ at the end probably meant Uenoyama had stewed over sending it for a very long time and had probably gotten very red and embarrassed in the process, and the thought of that made him smile. Just for a second. He had already pretty much decided to go because of Akihiko, but he had to admit to himself that the text was what decided it for him. He considered not replying just to make Uenoyama suffer a bit more but sent back a quick ‘I miss you too’ before he could stop himself. Because he did miss him. He missed him a lot.
So he came. He saw both Hiiragi and Uenoyama’s eyes searching for him as they walked on stage and saw in their reactions when they saw him, sitting on a table by himself at the back. Hiiragi beamed and waved at him, and Shizusumi (who was always staring at Hiiragi) followed the direction of Hiiragi’s wave and saw him too, giving him a nod. Uenoyama’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw Mafuyu, and the small shy smile he gave him made Mafuyu’s heart flutter just a little bit. And then the band started to play, and Mafuyu was glad he was sitting down.
Torn between admiration of his childhood friends’ talent, the anguish that Yuki wasn’t with them when he should have been, and the pride that the other two were able to keep going despite that. He could hear Yuki in Hiiragi’s voice, in the rise and fall of the melodies and the brashness of Shizu’s drums and it made him so happy and so achingly sad at the same time. And that mess of emotions was without considering the complete battery of feelings Uenoyama was giving him. Jealousy, resentment, envy, pride, attraction, surprise, admiration, adoration, anger. He knew Uenoyama was good, he knew first-hand how talented Uenoyama was. And he knew what Uenoyama looked like playing the guitar, had watched him enraptured for what was probably something like days at this point. But Mafuyu has never seen him on stage before, at least not from the audience. From this point of view, Uenoyama is the coolest thing he’s ever seen. He’s brighter than the stage lights that pour down on him. It’s like the first time he saw him play, the day Mafuyu followed him to practise, but a million times more. Uenoyama is at his most cocky, his most self-assured, that sly smirk spreading across that face. That dangerous, dangerous smile. Mafuyu can’t help getting up from his table and walking towards the crowd, just so he can see it closer. That smile is one of Mafuyu’s favourite expressions that Uenoyama makes. It makes his fingers tingle.
The rest of Mafuyu’s surroundings start to fade out a little as he stares at Uenoyama from the edge of the crowd. A sudden possessiveness creeps its way into his heart, that’s mine. Mine, mine, mine. He wants to take Uenoyama away, away and out of sight. Away from Hiiragi and Shizu, away from the place Yuki should have been, away from the eyes of all the girls and all the guys looking him up and down. He wants to take him and put him in his pocket and keep him and all of his talent for himself. He wants to touch, to place Uenoyama under his hands and keep him there. He slowly makes his way forward through the crowd as the band makes their way through their songs, wanting, needing to be closer to Uenoyama. But as Mafuyu catches glimpses of the faces of those watching his boyfriend, the possessiveness is replaced by pride. The jealousy that he’s making music with someone else is replaced by the joy he gets from listening to Uenoyama play. Everyone should see this, everyone should get to witness Uenoyama Ritsuka once in their life. He’s sad that Yuki never got to meet him. They probably would have been friends, bouncing off each other’s talent. In another life, Mafuyu would have got to hear the incredible music those two would have made together.
His heart jumps every time Uenoyama makes eye contact with him, but it happens less and less as the set goes on and Mafuyu gets closer. As Mafuyu gets closer, he realises something is wrong. It’s almost as if Uenoyama’s guitar is getting heavier as the set goes on. He’s shrinking in on himself, and the cocky smile is gone from his face. Mafuyu can’t pinpoint his expression until he’s almost at the very front of the crowd, practically underneath him. It’s lost, and a little scared, and he won’t look at Mafuyu even though he’s right there. Uenoyama looks exhausted, and there’s small streaks of red on his guitar strings where the skin of his fingertips have cracked and started to bleed. He’s in pain, his boy is in pain and Mafuyu can’t for the life of him figure out why. That is, until Hiiragi announces their last song.
“Alright guys!” Hiiragi says beaming, all stage bravado. “This next song is going to be our last.”
The crowd boos and Hiiragi giggles. Mafuyu sees Shizusumi roll his eyes, but Hiiragi’s tone becomes more serious as he continues,
“Those of you who have been following our band for a while will know that we tragically lost our original guitarist over a year ago now.”
All of the air leaves Mafuyu’s lungs, and the crowd is eerily silent,
“Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to finish writing one of his songs—” Hiiragi quickly gives a worried side glance to Uenoyama, more worried than Mafuyu would think Hiiragi could manage to be for Uenoyama.
“—but our temporary guitarist here Uenoyama finished it for us! Now, this isn’t a song I feel able to sing, so he’s going to be taking it from here. Thank you guys for coming!”
No. No, no, no, no.
“We miss you Yuki.” Hiiragi adds, managing to sound quiet even through a microphone and even through his panic Mafuyu can see intense way Shizusumi stares at Hiiragi as he swaps places with Uenoyama. Now Hiiragi is standing directly above Mafuyu, and Uenoyama is in the middle of the stage in front of the microphone. Mafuyu makes eye contact with Hiiragi for a second, and Hiiragi’s eyes are full of something almost like regret as he mouths to Mafuyu,
“I’m sorry.”
Mafuyu can barely even begin to process that, as he tears his eyes away from Hiiragi and stares at his boyfriend instead, who looks like he’s almost about to pass out. He looks at Mafuyu once, and it feels as if the world is about to end.
The song starts and he smells the ocean. Feels the cold, feels the wind.
“Nah, you’re gonna forget.” rings in Mafuyu’s head, as he looks up on stage and sees not Uenoyama but Yuki looking at him with eyes that say ‘I told you so’.
No! I haven’t forgotten! Not yet, not yet, not yet. I don’t want to forget.
“Nah, you’re gonna forget.” he hears again, and again, and again, and the way Yuki is looking at him is wrong. He looks wrong. He’s too tall and his eyes are too sad. Yuki never let his eyes look that sad. His guitar is the wrong colour. Mafuyu’s eyes snap to the blood on the strings and suddenly it’s not Yuki anymore, its Uenoyama. Just Uenoyama, trying to be Yuki. The guilt of it nearly knocks Mafuyu over, both for mistaking Uenoyama for Yuki and the fact that Uenoyama felt he had to try and be Yuki in the first place. Uenoyama’s voice is beautiful, he’s so beautiful, and the song is beautiful, but this isn’t the reason he should be hearing Uenoyama sing for the first time. This isn’t the beautiful music Yuki and Uenoyama would have made together, because there’s no Uenoyama in it. Mafuyu doesn’t hear him at all. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have cared, would have been happy just to hear Yuki, but now Mafuyu wants to cry because Uenoyama is playing but he doesn’t hear Uenoyama at all. By trying to fill the hole Yuki left, he’s created a Uenoyama-shaped hole.
Mafuyu moves from underneath Hiiragi, trying to get closer to Uenoyama again. He’s once again struck by the desire to touch, but not from possessiveness this time. He wants to take Uenoyama and cradle him gently, protect him from whatever ugly thoughts made him feel he had to do this. Mafuyu knows in his heart that Uenoyama is only doing this because he thinks it’s what Mafuyu wants, but he’s wrong. He’s wrong. He wants Uenoyama back. His Uenoyama back.
The song ends before Mafuyu can get underneath him, and he’s stuck between the urge to run to the stage door where he knows the band will exit and waiting where he is for an encore. He knows Hiiragi would love the showmanship of an encore, but he recalls Uenoyama’s crumpled frame and knows that he wont be coming back for another song, so he pushes his way through the crowd to the door on the side of the stage where another small crowd of fans have already gathered. Hiiragi and Shizu exit from the door and immediately spot Mafuyu, apologize to a few fans and make their way towards him.
Hiiragi gets to him first, “Mafuyu! Did you enjoy the sh—”
“I can’t believe you made him do that!” Mafuyu shouts, surprising himself, everyone around him, and Hiiragi. Not Shizu though, who looks almost like he was expecting it.
“Wha—”
“You made him finish the song, Yuki’s song! You made him—”
“I didn’t make him do anyth—”
“In all fairness, you did.” Shizusumi interrupts.
Hiiragi glares at Shizu, “Oh everything is always my fault! You—”
Mafuyu interrupts Hiiragi before he can start arguing with Shizu, because clearly there’s something else going on there, “Where’s Uenoyama-kun?”
“He went out the back door.” Shizusumi replies.
With that Mafuyu turns away from his childhood best friends and is running, pushing his way through people and spilling a few of their drinks but not taking any time to apologise. He crashes through the front door and makes his way around the side of the building and there he is. Uenoyama, alone.
“Uenoyama-kun.” Mafuyu says softly, trying not to let his voice tremble. Uenoyama is sat on the wall just outside the back of the venue, facing him but with his head turned down, fringe covering his face. His shoulders are shaking. When he hears Mafuyu speak however, he stands up and turns around,
“Don’t look at me.” He half shouts, half sobs.
He’s crying, Mafuyu thinks in shock. Uenoyama, his rock, the idiot who never thinks about anything but music is crying. Because of him. Because of music. Mafuyu’s stomach drops, and he curses himself for not realising, for misunderstanding everything about Uenoyama Ritsuka. The boy who stood on stage with ashen skin and bleeding fingertips and gave his everything to try and fit his body into the jagged hole Yuki left behind. Uenoyama Ritsuka was not put on this Earth to fill a hole left by someone else, he was put on this Earth to carve his own space in Mafuyu’s heart. Which he has, which he does. Everyday. When he smiles at his hands on the neck of his guitar, when he panics at the slightest hint of affection but gives it freely anyway, when he clutches at the back of Mafuyu’s shirt and tells him he doesn’t have to cry by himself. Everyday Uenoyama creates his own separate space in Mafuyu’s heart; a space separate from Yuki’s. Separate. Because they aren’t the same and he doesn’t want them to be the same and Mafuyu realises with sudden horrifying clarity that he’s never told Uenoyama this. Uenoyama takes and takes and takes all of the pain that Mafuyu gives him and never says a word to complain and Mafuyu aches when he realises he never gives anything back. Because in his head, he does. In his head, he tells Uenoyama that he loves him 100 times a day. From his raspy voice to his undercut to the way all of his movements seem musical. He loves him so much. Does he really never say it? Does Uenoyama not know that everyday Mafuyu is saved simply because he exists?
“Uenoyama-kun.” He tries again, walking up behind him and placing his hand on his back. Now that Mafuyu is closer, he can hear Uenoyama’s quiet sobs. They get louder when Mafuyu says his name.
“I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I am fine!” he shouts through his sobs. The sound is filled with such pain Mafuyu’s heart can barely take it.
“You’re not fine!” Mafuyu shouts back. Uenoyama takes a large shuddering breath at Mafuyu’s sudden change in volume and lets Mafuyu turn him around. He has his hands covering his face and won’t let Mafuyu remove them no matter how much he pulls at his hands. His hands are wet with his tears.
“Did you like the song?” Uenoyama chokes out.
“I hated it.”
Mafuyu means to keep speaking, but after that statement Uenoyama’s knees buckle and he sinks down into a crouch on the dirty pavement. Mafuyu goes down with him, clutching at Uenoyama’s shirt.
“No, no, no, I mean—” Mafuyu takes a deep breath, hating himself for never knowing the right words, “You’re not Yuki, don’t try to be Yuki.”
“I know!” Uenoyama shouts again, “I know I’ll never be him, I’ll never live up to that! But I wanted to help you! I wanted to make you happy, I—” his words dissolve into sobs again as he cries harder, and Mafuyu desperately scrabbles at the hands covering his face. His eyes. Mafuyu just needs to look him in the eyes.
“You do, you do make me happy.” He says softly again, trying not to sound desperate. Uenoyama doesn’t respond. Just stays with his forehead to his knees, hands on his eyes, trying so hard to make his sobs silent.
“You’re not Yuki, but I don’t want you to be Yuki. You’re Ritsuka.”
Ritsuka’s breath hitches, and he finally finally lets Mafuyu remove his hands from his face. His eyes, God his eyes. Puffy and brilliant red from crying, and ringed with purple from who knows how many nights of rough sleep, but the same clear blue as always. The blue he sees in his dreams, blue that means hope.
“Ritsuka. I want Ritsuka. The boy I fell in love with on a stairwell. I chose him, I want him.” Ritsuka seems to have momentarily stopped crying, and his blue eyes are fixed on Mafuyu’s orange ones so Mafuyu keeps speaking,
“The song was beautiful. But there wasn’t any Ritsuka in it. And you weren’t smiling. You love music, you’re supposed to be smiling.”
Ritsuka stares helplessly at Mafuyu for a little longer before he speaks again, “I stopped loving it, before I met you. You made me love music again.”
It’s barely more than a whisper but Mafuyu’s heart unclenches a little at Ritsuka’s voice speaking again. What Ritsuka says doesn’t really fit well with the picture of him he has in his mind, the boy who’s entire being seems to be made of music. But on the other hand, it does almost fit the boy he met on the stairwell, with his sleepy eyes and no guitar on his back.
“You are music Ritsuka. Music took everything away from me once, but you came along and you taught me how to use it to save myself. Loving music and loving you is the same thing. I love music, and I love you, and—”
“You love me?”
Mafuyu stops, and tilts his head, “Of course I love you.” Does he not know?
He looks at Mafuyu, lost “Me? Are you sure…? But I’m—”
“I love you.” Mafuyu interrupts him, “I’m very sure.”
Ritsuka blinks once and swallows, before his eyes start filling up again. But before Mafuyu can do anything, Ritsuka is reaching for him and slots his head into the crook of Mafuyu’s neck. Mafuyu’s arms come up around his boyfriend’s wide shoulders as Ritsuka finally lets himself cry without repressing it. It’s loud and it’s raw and it’s painful to hear but Mafuyu lets himself feel it, pressing his cheek to the top of Ritsuka’s head and sobbing too. The pavement is cold, and it’s starting to drizzle, adding to the dampness he feels from Ritsuka’s tears on his t-shirt. God, they’re both so stupid. The ache in his heart gets more painful as he listens to his boyfriend’s crying, knowing it’s because of him. Ritsuka doesn’t deserve to feel like this, Ritsuka only deserves good, soft things and Mafuyu isn’t any of that. But even though the ache in his chest is almost unbearable, Mafuyu is glad he can feel like this now. Glad he can cry like this. He would take these raw, visceral, disgusting emotions a million times before he would rather feel the frozen, unchanging numbness he felt for months after Yuki left. For better or worse, Ritsuka makes him feel. He loves him with shocking intensity, and did he really not know? How can he not know? Surely, Mafuyu tells him. Surely, Mafuyu has told him a million times by now. But when he really thinks about it, has he ever said it out loud? He can’t really remember if he ever told Yuki either, and that thought hits him like a hammer in the chest, causing him to scrunch his eyes against the force of it. But as his thoughts once again shift to Yuki, he remembers the song Ritsuka fought so hard just to get though and comes to the conclusion that maybe Mafuyu was so distracted by his own grief that he didn’t realise that the shadow of Yuki probably hangs over Ritsuka too. Telling him he’ll never live up to what came before, and that’s another hammer to Mafuyu’s chest. He squeezes Ritsuka even tighter, and thanks every star that they sit under that this boy is still here. That he didn’t lose another one of his soulmates due to his own stupidity.
They sit like that for a while, desperately clutching to each other’s shaking bodies just to stay grounded. You’re here. We’re here. We’re okay. But eventually they calm down, and Mafuyu unpeels his numb hands from the other boy’s shirt and starts stroking the sweaty hair of his undercut until Ritsuka suddenly lifts his head from Mafuyu’s chest,
“I’m sorry.” he rasps,
Mafuyu tilts his head, absentmindedly wiping away the leftover tears on Ritsuka’s cheeks, “What for?”
“I should have told you about the song, I should have just told you I was feeling insecure—”
“No it’s my fault for letting you feel insecure in the first place—”
“But it was a stupid thing to get insecure about—”
“It’s not stupid, I should have—”
“No, it’s my—”
“Ritsuka.”
And Ritsuka finally smiles. A small one, but a smile nonetheless. He raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck only to find Mafuyu’s hand in the way,
“We should probably communicate a bit better huh? Haruki would be mad at us right now.”
Mafuyu huffs a little chuckle, “Mmm he would. But Haruki-san is always mad at us.”
“We kind of deserve it you know.”
“We do. I’m sorry.”
Ritsuka smiles again, and his face is a mess but he’s so blindingly beautiful, “I’m sorry too.”
With that, Mafuyu scoots forwards to place his forehead on Ritsuka’s and places both hands on either side of his jaw. It’s a little stubbly, he’s surprised to find. He didn’t know Ritsuka grew stubble. He inches closer agonisingly slowly, giving him all the time in the world to back away if it’s too much. If he needs more time to recover from the pain Mafuyu has given him. But Ritsuka closes the last few millimetres himself and places his lips on Mafuyu’s. They’re chapped, and a little salty, but it’s been so long since they’ve kissed that he almost forgot how good it feels. How it ignites a little sun inside of his chest and burns all the bad feelings away. He cradles Ritsuka’s face softly, as if it were his heart. Because even though everyone thinks Mafuyu is fragile, maybe Ritsuka is a little fragile too, and he should treat his heart with more care. A soft summer boy who has trusted Mafuyu with all of his firsts, and Mafuyu is so grateful. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss and they kiss and it’s so soft and so gentle and so good. He’s so good. Everything about him is good.
Ritsuka is the one to break the kiss, “Mmm Mafuyu? I love you too by the way.”
Mafuyu is already leaning back in and huffs against the boys lips, “I know Ritsuka.”
Ritsuka chuckles lightly, a wonderful deep warm sound, “You know you’re never allowed to call me Uenoyama ever again.”
Mafuyu suddenly wraps his arms round his neck and kisses him once on the lips, hard, and then peppers the other boy’s face with kisses chanting “Ritsuka, Ritsuka, Ritsuka,” between each one until eventually the boy groans, embarrassment getting the better of him, hands coming up to cover his face. Mafuyu giggles and stops Ritsuka’s hands before they can find their target, because this is the facial expression Mafuyu loves best. His boyfriend pink to the tips of his ears, lips pressed together, eyebrows slanted down but looking at him with same fierce determination he gets when playing a particularly hard part of a song. It makes Mafuyu feel warm inside and out, and the cold that had been threatening to push its way back in the past few weeks thaws once again. Ritsuka isn’t Yuki, and music isn’t painful anymore.
Mafuyu pokes Ritsuka’s cheek, “You know you’re really hot when you’re on stage.”
“Fucking hell,” Ritsuka groans, this time managing to cover his face, “You can’t say that.”
“Why not? I’m your boyfriend, aren’t I? Am I not allowed to find you hot?”
He groans again, peaking an eye out through his fingers, “You are, you just can’t tell me.”
“But I want to tell you.”
“Then you can’t expect me to react normally.”
“I don’t.”
“You! –“ Ritsuka exclaims, in that half-angry half-embarrassed way he always does, but Mafuyu kisses him before he can say anymore, effectively shutting him up.
“Stop toying with me,” he says, eventually pulling away from Mafuyu’s lips,
“But it’s fun.”
“Shut up.” Ritsuka tries to look angry, but its effectiveness is undermined by the fierce blush on his cheeks and the fondness in his eyes. Mafuyu loves him so much.
Ritsuka gets up off the pavement and offers a hand to Mafuyu to pull him up too, using the other hand to scratch at the back of his head.
“Ritsuka?”
“Mmm?”
“I think we should debut.”
Ritsuka looks at him, dumbfounded, and the expression is so familiar on his face it almost makes Mafuyu laugh, but he keeps his poker face.
“What?”
“I think we should debut.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
And Ritsuka sweeps him up into a hug that lifts him up and spins him around, in a gesture that feels out of character for Ritsuka but similar to the actions of another boy once, a long time ago. Mafuyu still has grieving to do, and scars to heal, but as he listens to the heartbeat of the very alive, very present boy with his strong arms around him, he lets himself let go just a little bit. Making new memories doesn’t make the old ones any less special, and both boys can occupy separate parts of his heart at the same time. He has room enough for both. As his feet find the ground again, he stares up at the blinding light that is Uenoyama Ritsuka smiling a smile wider than he’s ever seen before. He never thought he’d get the opportunity to be this happy ever again, but now that he has it he wants to sink his nails in. Never let it go. Do whatever it takes to keep it with him. Music and Ritsuka. They’re the same thing.
Ritsuka stoops his head slightly to give Mafuyu a quick, chaste kiss on the lips before taking his hand, blushing profusely,
“Let me walk you home.”
“But it’s always you walking me home, never the other way around.”
“I know, but I want to see Kedama, it’s been ages.”
“It has. He’s missed you.”
Ritsuka squeezes his hand, “I’ve missed him too.”