Chapter Text
Track 1
The lights were nearly blinding on stage under thunderous applause and the cheering of their names. Heavy steps of leather boots on the wood below their feet. The first strum of an electric guitar amped up and echoing through the halls drowned in even louder cheers. Three hits of drumsticks counting them in, and they hit the cue in perfect synch while the crowd below erupts in euphoric screams.
Semi felt entranced by the tunes that came out of his guitar. His fingers were flying over the fretboard as the pic strummed the metal stings, and his voice sang the lyrics alongside the chords. The melody was supported by Suna’s drumming, reliable and constant, a resonating sound in the background yet so energetic as if he was urging the others on to play louder, faster. Yamaguchi backed Semi’s raspy vocals with his own soft, melodic, and controlled tenor and assisted the melody with this keyboard. Then there was Terushima, with his bass providing rhythm alongside the drums and completing the magic on stage.
Semi was trying to focus on his own playing and singing simultaneously, trying not to focus on the groove of the bass being a little faster, causing Suna to adjust. It was a domino effect that made Yamaguchi start with the keyboard part a bit too quickly. Semi almost forgot his cue for his Guitar solo. Grimacing as his wrist bent and flexed to grab the correct chord on his fretboard.
He flicked his head up, effectively getting some of the silvery grey hair out of his eyes, and sang the following lyrics into the microphone. Looking down into the crowd, he saw a few of the girls staring at him. He shot him a wink before he pivoted around to join Suna in the back, challenging his drummer to a show off for the next section of the song. Drinking up each other’s energy and quenching themselves in response to the hollering crowd as the song slowly faded and they ended their performance.
The crowd was cheering. “Encore! Encore!” Tokyo’s International Yokohama Stadium was at their feet, and they were on top of the world.
It took Semi a few moments to blink himself back into the reality of where he was. The crowd was still cheering, but it was not like they were in a sold-out stadium. Just the regulars who came to Damiano’s Pizzeria, Bar, and Stage to enjoy the local bands performing songs every Friday night.
Semi shook his head again to clear it up from fuzzy thoughts that had made him daydream again during a performance. Then, he stepped to the microphone, shooting some of the girls sitting in the nearest booth a grin, and said, “Hey, everyone. Nice Kill and I, will hopefully see you back here next Friday . We’ll be waiting for you”.
He gave the audience a slight bow, gestured right and left to accentuate his bandmates, and thanked the audience for listening as this had been their last song for the night.
They gathered their instruments. Suna always claimed that wanted to pick up his drum set after the closing times because he likes to do it in serenity. So the brunet drummer didn’t have to pick up anything but his own drumsticks and he was the first one down the stage already wiping off the sweat from his forehead with one of Semi’s towels.
“Chill out, you packed two of these,” he said as he caught Semi’s disapproving sneer on him and sighed as he leaned against the wall, “I bet you one load of laundry that the Boss is going to come up to me in less than five minutes to yell at me to get to work….”
“I bet it’s even less than that,” Semi countered and turned to Terushima and a red-faced Yamaguchi, who had been teased by the former the minute they had to go off stage.
“They were totally falling for you babe,” the dyed blonde threw an arm over Yamaguchi’s shoulders, pulling him into his side, “Especially when you put your hair up in a bun between our first and second song.” He effectively gave Yamaguchi’s small dark green ponytail a flick before turning to the other two.
“Yeah, Yams is cute and all but Teru...next time you should better stay in rhythm” Suna side-eyed the blonde and his boyfriend before adding, “you went a little too wild in the last song...I had to readjust.”
Terushima was about to reply something snarky when Damiano, the owner of the establishment, a tall Italian with long brown hair, poked his head around the corners, frowning and eying Suna and stating, “Rin..you got 4 minutes...we got some deliveries….”
Semi grinned at the green-eyed drummer triumphantly. It seems like he had won himself a round of not having to do laundry. Eita was about to state himself victorious when Damiano turned to him and said, “Some sleazy looking guy wants to talk to you…something about the band.”
Damiano once more reminded Rintaro that he now had three minutes left to get to the car with the deliveries, and Suna shot him finger guns to tell him he’d understood.
“Mind packing up our stuff and putting it into the storage room while I talk to this guy?” Semi asked his band members, Suna blinked at him, Yamaguchi nodded, and Terushima gave a half-hearted comment about him not cleaning up Semi’s shit before Semi left the backroom to meet up with the quote-unquote sleazy looking guy.
Turns out it was a guy in a business suit, dark green hair, slicked back, the fringe to one side. Eying Semi with serpentine eyes, he gave him a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Ahh...the man of the hour...lead singer and guitarist... I’ve been told they call you Semi….”
“Semi Eita,” the grey-haired introduced himself, noticing that the guy didn’t offer him a hand or a bow but merely kept inspecting him as if trying to weigh his worth
“My name is Daishou Suguru,” the man said after clicking his tongue, now a little friendlier in his tone. His eyes, however, were still not smiling as he got a card out of the inside pocket of his blazer.
“I’m with Nohebi Records...sure you heard of us...and we’re thinking of collaborating with a newcomer band from the area, to compete in the National College Band Competition...and the look on your face tells me you know all about that too.”
He smirked, watching as Semi’s eyes widened for a second. The NCBC was a competition that offered the winners music contracts. Most of them started up playing opening acts for bands like Black Jackals or the Red Falcons. It was tough for indie bands with no connections to get a spot to compete, and here was someone from a record label offering them a chance at this on a silver platter.
“What’s the stitch?” Semi asked instinctively, nevertheless taking the business cards in his hands and eying the sleek black and neon green design.
“A man who understands businesss,” Daishou smirked and nodded, “We like to keep it interesting, so in two weeks on a Saturday we’ll have a small gig at the De Angelis. Your band and another from the area will go head to head and the winner will go ahead and be our champion for NCBC...talk to your band members and give me a call until Sunday evening, alright?”
“Yes, sir...thank you,” Semi offered his hand, but Daishou chose to ignore it and walked off. Semi stared at the little piece of thick paper in his hand and couldn’t suppress a grin and pocketed the business card before he saw that a light brunette was eying him, with a big smile on her face. Hana dressed in a jean skirt and a generously cut-out tank top.
“Eita-kun,” she beamed as their gazes crossed, and she put a hand on her hips, showing off her red nail polish that matched her lipstick. “Congrats on getting a contract. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop listening in.”
“Thanks...but we don’t really have the contract yet,” Semi politely smiled and shuffled with his foot, not knowing if he should stay or leave. Hana was his sort-of girlfriend. They were on and off...mostly on her terms, and to be frank, Semi sometimes had enough of her antics. “What’s up, Hana.”
“Just been missing seeing you, Eita,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. Semi focused looking into her eyes instead of the cleavage she was presenting towards him. “How’s life?”
“Busy at the moment,” he cleared his throat, pushing his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. “I actually gotta go back to the boys...maybe we can meet for coffee sometimes.” Yes, sometimes Semi had enough of her antics...but Hana was hot.
“Sure...gimme a call whenever you want” she winked and stalked off to the table where she was sitting with a bunch of friends.
“I thought I came out here to be spared from lovey dovey stuff,” Suna’s voice reached his ear. The drummer, now dressed in a Damiano’s Pizzeria shirt, stood behind Semi, “You gotta come back, Yams and Teru are being grossly affectionate again…why are you smirking like that?”
Semi didn’t reply, just gestured with a tilt of his chin that he’s going back to the storage room, where they found Terushima and Yamaguchi, nowhere near packed up, making out. Terushima’s hands were cupping Tadashi’s face, pulling him closer every time he tried to break their kiss. Even when the freckled pianists saw the rest of the band come back, wide-eyed Terushima didn’t let Tadashi give in even an inch. So it was up to Semi to clear his throat a few times to make the pierced blonde let his boyfriend breathe again.
Terushima smirked and put an arm around blushing and embarrassed Yamaguchi’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side and lazily fiddled with the hems of Tadashi’s short sleeves,” What up, Sem?”
“So I have an announcement,” Semi said, putting his hands in his pocket to get the card out, but Suna interrupted him with a sigh.
“Don’t tell me you’re seeing Hana again….” he drawled unimpressed, “I can’t deal with her calling me up and wanting to discuss every detail every single time the two have a bad date….”Semi rolled his eyes at the drummer, “No, it’s not Hana.”
“Pity,” Terushima commented, “She’s hot….”
Tadashi gave him a side-eye, so Terushima quickly added a whispered “objectively” before he kissed his boyfriend’s temple.
“So... what’s the news?” Suna said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his legs, “The boss is going to murder me if I am not in the car in a minute or so.”
“If you losers keep interrupting me I won’t get to tell you that we’re doing a gig at the De Angelis in two weeks” Semi rolled his eyes.
“De Angelis!” Yamaguchi screeched, grabbing Terushima’s hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “For real?”
“Yeah, and If we win against this other band, that Daishou from Nohebi record is going to give us a free pass to participate at the NCBC.”
“NCBC,” Terushima parroted and pulled Yamaguchi even closer. “Damn!”
As Semi watched the expressions of his bandmates, who were both excited and confused at this sudden opportunity, he could not stop the excitement that was bubbling up in his own chest. He started grinning as well, listening to Terushima’s jubilant exclamations and Tadashi’s comments about the acoustics of the De Angelis venue. The two kept talking over each other, but Semi was not in the mood to stop the two and started packing up his own things.
“Nice,” Suna gave them a deadpan expression. He seemed unimpressed like usual. But the flicker in his eyes told Semi that he too was excited, “You guys clean up and we can discuss details like tomorrow at practice…. I’ll pick up the instruments later after my shift is done and will store them in the car….”
“Bro, I gotta replace a few of my strings,” Terushima said, grabbing his bass case, “So , I’ll be taking mine back home.”
“Sure,” Suna shrugged and eyed Semi, “You okay waiting here for the end of my shift or are you gonna take the bus?”
Semi considered Suna, and he lived together. Taking the bus would be a nuisance since their place was in a suburban area, and the public transport was not that frequent. He was not in the mood to wait in the pizzeria and eat his own weight in Italian food, so he said, “I’ll try to get a hold of Hana, and you call me when you’re finished.”
Suna was about to reply something about Semi’s on and off girlfriend, but a loud Italian curse from Damiano made him jump and dart off to the delivery car.
»»——♬——««
Terushima and Yamaguchi were on their way home a few minutes later. The temperate spring night was already dreaming of summer with its mild winds promising that the heatwaves of summer were right around the corner. So Yamaguchi tried to argue against Terushima giving him his jean jacket; it was a sweet gesture but unnecessary since he didn’t feel cold at all.
The blond was pouting a little as Tadashi shrugged the jacket off to tie it around his waist.
“Sorry Yuuji, but it’s kinda warm,” he said softly, grabbing his synthesizer case from the ground in one hand, shouldering it, and linked his other hand with Terushima’s. He pulled their intertwined hands up to his lips, kissing his knuckles softly, “I appreciate the effort tho….”
“‘Course you do... I’m affectionately awesome,” Terushima smugly said and used his own free hand to brush loose hair from Yamaguchi’s face. “And I kinda have to agree with the fangirls that you in a pony is kinda hot….”
“Kinda?” Tadashi asked, leaning his cheek into Yuuji’s palm like a cat.
“Mhh..” Terushima nodded. “I think it would look even better if you’d get an undercut….”
“I’ll consider it..” Yamaguchi smiled and started walking again, pulling Terushima with him, “We gotta hurry, I don’t want to miss my bus.”
“So eager to get rid of me, eh?” Terushima put weight into his legs, so it was harder for Yamaguchi to pull him with him. The viridescent pianist groaned and complained, “I need to get home and water Yachi….”
“Your plants can wait a few hours longer, I’m sure,” Terushima chuckled and bent down to stuff his loose laces in the sides of his shoes instead of trying them. “Let’s grab some food, you’ve been so busy,we didn’t have much time together lately.”
“I know,” Tadashi sighed, stopping in his way and eyeing a nearby convenience store; maybe they could get some drinks and food for the way. He chewed on his lip. He needed to get back home; sleep was something he had lacked these past days as his Uni schedule had been taking up all his free time with band practice, orchestra, and individual rehearsals, his part-time job at the music school, and also the preparation for that summer tour he would be on in the summer before graduating in fall.
He realized that, yes, maybe the stress of the last few weeks had let him neglect his boyfriend. He let his brown eyes dart over to the convenience store again when Terushima nudges his side. Yuuji detangled his hands and shrugged the bass bag off his shoulders, and tilted his head towards Yamaguchi, staring at the store.
“I got the same Idea!” he grinned and went over to the side of the store to grab and pull a shopping cart with him. Terushima took Yamaguchi’s case and his own instrument bag and put it inside the metal square of the cart.
“Yuuji….what the-?,” Yamaguchi furrowed his brows, confused on what exactly his boyfriend was planning.
“Easy, we’re way faster pushing the stuff than we are carrying... I’ve decided that I’m coming over since you have to water your plants and stuff and so we can spend the morning together….”
“So, you’re using a shopping cart to….” Tadashi stopped himself from completing the sentence and shrugged and watched how his boyfriend flexed his forearms before he started pushing the cart down the street. Tadashi watched him for a bit, glancing at his broad shoulders as his boyfriend started humming the melody of a new song Tadashi had been writing for the band.
“You really think I have been neglecting you?” Tadashi had pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his pants, mumbling the words into the night with puffs of his own breath. As they reached the top of a hilly street, his breath was a little heavier.
After some moments of silence, Terushima’s humming had subsided, and only the sound of cars honking in the distance was heard. Then, finally, he spoke up, “Yeah, sort of...I mean I get that you’re busy Dashi...graduating and all...but exams are almost done, right? Your theoretical ones at least...and I thought that we could spend more time together.”
“I’ve been trying,” Tadashi said and knew that he didn’t sound convincing. In fact, he has been doing more and more piano lessons at the Beatheaven Music School, trying to get some extra cash for the tour to Korea and China in the summer. Yamaguchi stopped, gnawing at his lips, and sighed, murmuring an apology into the night.
They had come to a stop under a streetlight that engulfed them in a yellowish tint as Yuuji side-eyed his boyfriend with a slight smile on his lips as he took one hand off the shopping cart and hooked it in the knot his boyfriend had tied with his jacket. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Freakles, I actally like having a smarty-pants boyfriend.”
“Do you now?” Yamaguchi replied with a bite into Terushima’s bottom lip, following by sliding his tongue inside his mouth and teasing Terushima’s pierced one. Yamaguchi smirked a little at Yuuji’s comment, eyes glinting challengingly, which Yuuji gladly took on and pulled him in for a heated kiss. Lips crashed into each other hungrily, and Terushimas’s hands soon found their way to Yamaguchi’s neck, gripping his hair so that the dark green strands came loose from the wispy ponytail.
There was a small movement, and Yamaguchi had almost missed it if it wasn’t for Terushima’s hands finding their way down his body and on his bum, making Tadashi shudder from the touch and open his eyes to realize that the movement had been the shopping cart.
“Shit,Yuuji!” Tadashi yelped, trying to push away his boyfriend, whose mouth had found its way to his neck. He had not realized that the cart was happily rolling down the hill, increasing in speed. “Yuuji, stop! The INSTRUMENTS!”
“FUCK!” Terushima realized the issue and darted off running after the shopping cart, snowballing down the hill. Tadashi watched, frozen in shock, how his boyfriend somehow managed to almost overtake the cart if it wasn’t for his shoes. He had not tied his laces, and Tadashi could just yell a warning.
»»——♬——««
Your fingers flew over the ivories and ebonies of the grand piano in a structural manner. Perfectly intact and practiced hands urged the tunes of Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 11 filled the air of the small rehearsal room and out through the open window into the Saturday afternoon air. You dared to close your eyes, feeling the music rather than staring at the sheets of paper dotted with black because you knew this song by heart. Head bobbing in rhythm with your foot hitting the pedal. Music is a system. Every symphony is constructed to be played in a specific manner. To be executed as it was written down.
That’s what you have been taught from an early age. That beginning was almost twenty years ago. Your feet had not been able to touch the pedals of a grand piano, barely dangling from the padded velvet stool. Concert halls with ruffled dresses, patent leather shoes, and lacy knee socks when you performed on the piano, dress pants, and blouses whenever you performed on the cello. Around six years ago, you decided to make rehearsals and perform your future profession and enrolled at the prestigious Doitsu Music Academy and were about to graduate with a Masters in Music in late summer.
The thought scared you. The past six years were planned and filled with scheduled dates, practices, rehearsals, and performances before the cycle started all over again. You had hardly finished your Bachelor of Arts with a minor in Music Pedagogy and Psychology when you had started the Master courses. Not realizing that you had a degree before starting the next level and the realization soon you’d be faced with the aspect of being thrown into the professional world was scaring you.
You flexed your fingers, calloused from years of practice, as you finished the piece and looked around the room. One of the regularities in your life was working at the small Beathaven Music School in town, teaching piano and sometimes cello to young children. Today was one of the days you had back-to-back lessons in the morning and after lunch with the youngest students. Most of them crammed up because the children were too young to have classes in the late afternoon during school days. Luckily for you, today was a slow day.
One of your regular students had the measles; the next one was a no-show, so you had some time to spare. Since the first student had not canceled 24 hours beforehand and the no-show didn’t cancel at all, you were going to get paid either way, and you were glad about the policy in the music school. It wasn’t like you were short of money. Your family had always been supportive, even though your trips back home were scarce; due to your busy schedule, you were blessed that your parents paid for your studies.
The last time you had seen your dad, a businessman who had to travel a lot outside of Japan for his work, was around before the Christmas Concert and over New Years’.
Still, you called him weekly, no matter what time difference, and often, your mother and little brother Kenta, who was in his second year of High School, joined in on video call. Kenta was currently a boarder at your own alma mater Shiratorizawa, having not a musical bone in his body but a sporty one. Your family often joked that the two of you had divided the genes precisely in the middle, making you the artsy kid and him the jock.
Taking your phone from the top of the piano. You considered calling him since you had time to spare, but didn’t do so because Kenta had texted you that he had a game this weekend and needed to focus, so you opted to scroll through your social media. Which you were done with rather quickly since your social cycle was relatively small, and you liked to keep it that way.
There was no use in getting close to many people when they would turn out to hurt you in the end.
A small groan escaped your mouth. You stood up, the grey pleated skirt you were wearing fluttered around your legs, swishing back and forth as you made your way to the open window to enjoy the sunlight that filtered through the crown of the tall birch tree in front of the Music School. Today was particularly lovely, it was not too hot, and you could have gone home by now to your top floor apartment to relax if it wasn’t for the next lesson you had to sub in for.
This morning, you had received a text from your friend Yamaguchi Tadashi, a pianist and violinist who had started his studies with you and became your close friend through the years. He had sent you a text last night about an emergency and him not being able to cover his lessons. Pleading that you can take over, which you did, and reassured him that he would be the one getting the pay for the classes even though you had taught them.
Tadashi worked hard all last year to collect enough money for the ten-day Korea and China tour of the University Orchestra this summer and needed some extra to be able to afford to go get souvenirs in the cities.
Besides those costs, graduation meant more travel to audition for numerous orchestras around the countries and maybe overseas. Even if you weren’t sure if Tadashi wanted to look for these opportunities (he always got weird when you talked about these things), it was good to have some backup cash. You yourself had been collecting money, not getting new clothes and selling a lot of your not-worn items to second-hand buyers online, and decluttering your apartment for over a year now.
Your fingers once more tapped to open the private chat between you and Tadashi. The last text probably had been a thank you so much I owe you if you deciphered the thumb smash correctly. This morning, you replied to his text from last night asking if he was okay. So you assumed that something must have been up with Yamaguchi’s boyfriend and or the band he played with, in his free time. You were aware that they played in some establishment every Friday night, despite never witnessing it.
Some of your own private lessons with university tutors were on Fridays, so you could never make it or meet this boyfriend that made Tadashi like a golden retriever puppy every time he got a text from him.
Another notification popped up on your phone from a group chat you had with Tadashi and another violinist with whom you sometimes played at weddings together. Weddings like the one coming up next week, and she just tried to confirm the date on tomorrow and on Friday morning to practice one last time. You sent her a thumbs-up as a reply and waited for Tadashi to confirm as well...but the chat showed you that he was last online around 7 am, the same time he’d replied to your text.
What the heck happened last night that he was not online for over eight hours? You hoped he was okay.
»»——♬——««
Saturday Morning 2 am
Fuck! Tadashi was not okay, his complexion mirroring his hair color when Semi and Suna came into the hospital emergency room. They had gotten his frantic call earlier but had to wait for Suna to finish his deliveries before they could join him in the ER of the local hospital. Suna would have given a snarky comment to tease him and lighten Yamaguchi’s mood, but after his first attempt of making a Grey’s Anatomy analogy failed miserably, and the brown-haired drummer let it go.
He was flipping through his phone, the Damiano’s Pizzeria shirt unbuttoned and an arm loosely draped over the back of Yamaguchi’s chair to give the pianist some comforting back pats from time to time. Semi had been out to smoke since Suna’s constant knee wobbling made him crazy.
He had been halfway into an impromptu date with Hana, something he didn’t really enjoy much because the girl was talking his ears off, but there had been a change of him going over to her place after.
Semi was unsure if he was happy about this incident effectively cockblocking him or if he was mad about it. It would depend on the outcome, really, he thought as he returned to find Yamaguchi sitting bent over, his head in his hands.
“This is my fault,” Tadashi said, running his fingers through his loose hair. Suna patted his back, scrolling through TikTok, and commented, “It’s not, Tadashi... you’re not at fault for being horny for your boyfriend. Or for his stupidity.”
“Dude, not helping,” Semi sighed, crouching down in front of Tadashi and flicking his forehead with his fingers. “Tadashi... Teru’s fine...he was responsive and talking and frankly walking….he hit his head ….but I don’t think Teru has any brain cells left to damage anyway.” Semi saw Yamaguchi smirk a little at this and continued, “They’re just checking out if there is any damage to his arms….and he was able to move them, so nothing is broken.”
“Didn’t know WebMD gave you a doctorate, Mc Dreamy,” Suna snickered from his chair. Semi flicked him off before patting Yamaguchi’s knee once and announcing he’d get information from the ER nurse on the proceedings.
“Hey, Tad, check this cute puppy out,” Suna said, pulling Yamaguchi up by gripping his shoulder and shoving his phone into his face. It was a weird way of Rintarou trying to lighten Tadashi’s mood, and his lips turned into a small smile when he saw the husky on the screen being overly dramatic over bath time.
Semi made his way to inquire about Terushima from the nurse at the ER desk. This elderly woman glanced at his appearance with distaste as many adults did. His leather boots weren’t laced properly, and the dark grey skinny jeans ripped the thick leather belt around his waist and the tugged-in washed-out T-shirt.
It didn’t matter that Semi had a fondness for combining these types of outfits with fitted dark blazers. The jewelry, his round stud earrings, and the leather band necklace with the guitar pick and the painted bottle cap he wore since high school was often reason enough for dirty looks.
“We are busy here…” the nurse commented before Eita was even ready to form words in his head. “Your...friend is being tested for intoxication and substances as well and will be released if the drug tests are negative….come up to ask me one more time and I’ll send the three of you to get tested as well.”
Semi held up his hands, pivoted on the heel of his boots, and went back to Suna telling Yamauchi a story he found on Reddit. While they were waiting for Terushima, Semi thought of the black card inside his pocket. The opportunity was so close he was almost able to grasp it. That’s what he wanted to do with his life. To reach people with the songs he and Tadashi wrote. Music is a stage of felicity often so much simpler than words that reached the emotions of so many people. Music was a pure boisterous outburst of emotion.
For Eita, it was the thing that had stayed with him through all his life. His mom would always smile whenever he played for her, and his first strumming on a small acoustic guitar often had been the only thing that had made his sister stop crying when she had been a toddler. It was also one of the things that connected Eita to his father and...He shook his head in hopes that the memories would fade just as fast as they had manifested in his mind.
Luckily, the hissing sound of the doors that connected the waiting area with the treatment rooms opened, and Terushima came through, his right hand heavily bandaged, and his forehead taped up. He grimaced at the three band members waiting for him, not happy to see Semi or Suna, but his tawny eyes softened at the sight of Tadashi.
“What’s with the face, Freakles…” he joked, waving with his cast and wincing at the movement.
“OMG, Yuuji,” Yamaguchi had stood up quickly and was now frozen in his spot; Suna nervously glanced up at him, worrying that he might faint because Yamaguchi indeed looked as if he would.
“Babes, I’m okay..” Terushima sighed. “A few scratches and scars are sexy and make up part of my charms… don’t you think?”
“No,” Suna deadpanned.
“Nobody asked you,” Tersuhima retorted.
“Guys…” Semi sighed, “Dude...what did the doctor say?”
Terushima shuffled his way to the seats, plopping into Tadashi’s vacant one, and sighed, “Lemme breathe a little alright? Tads...sit down...you look like a ghost….”
Yamaguchi hesitantly turned around before Suna stood up and pushed him into the seat he was sitting in. Terushima closed his eyes, leaning back, and tilted his head before explaining, “Doc said it’s a tear in my tendon and some capsule tears in my fingers...he put it in a cast to make me stop using it….”
He opened his eyes, meeting his gaze with Semi’s, and the cognizance hit him instantly and even before Terushima Yuuji spoke the words “I’m out for a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” It was Tadashi who spoke up first, tracing Yuuji’s face for any expression that indicated that he was joking. Terushima just kept staring at Semi, and they all realized he was, in fact, not kidding.
“Well...shit,” Suna so thankfully said into the quiet dread that was forming.
“This is my fault,” Yamaguchi once more buried his face into his hands.
Semi sucked on a tooth, thoughts running wildly. Teru was out; they had a gig in two weeks, a lifetime opportunity, and the band needed a bass player. Temporarily...but still a bass player that would be good enough to learn their repertoire in a few days.
Semi’s hands found the back of his neck, and he started fiddling with the leather band around his neck, tugging at it a bit too harshly, so the knot came loose. He stared at it for a moment, the pick and the metal bottle cap painted with purple nail polish and considered for a second, but Yamaguchi interrupted the forming thought.
“It’s my fault,” Yamaguchi said, “So let me deal with it. I’ll try and find a bass player who can sub for us….”
Suna once more, being helpful, whistled a tune from the Hunger Games and held three fingers into the air. Everybody ignored him.
“I don’t appreciate you lot ignoring my sense of humor,” he commented, grabbing the keys of his truck from his pockets,” I’m the one who is driving you kids home….”
“You’re hilarious Rintarou,” Semi sighed and patted Yamaguchi on the shoulder. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow...you guys get some sleep.”
“I’m so sorry, guys,” Tadashi lamented, and Terushima kicked the side of his foot gently.
“Hey, sunshine...stop worrying...you can make it up to me by staying over and tugging me into bed and all...maybe cook for me?” he winked. “I can’t wait to be pampered by you, Freakles….”
Suna, who was already on his way out, made a gagging gesture, then said, “Alright kids, if you’re not in the car in five, I’m leaving without you...and no stops …we got McDonalds at home.”
»»——♬——««
It was Sunday after lunch, and while you were busy ingraining the wallpaper into your brain, you considered getting your fellow classmates a watch as an early birthday present. You had planned to meet up around 1 pm with Tadashi and the violinist; you even had skipped lunch in favor of being punctual, and by now, it was 2.30, and neither of them was there yet. Tadashi had mentioned him being a little late this morning, a message that was more a thumb smash than actual words.
So while waiting, you had practiced piano yet again, your top-floor apartment was too small to have a piano, and thus, you used every moment you could get with a real one, and frankly, the practice rooms in the University had the best ones. A glance out the window that gave a generous view over the campus grounds let you see something green dash across the lawn. Maybe it was a little petty of starting to play The Time Warp from the Rocky Horror Show Picture Show loudly once you calculate Tadashi’s hearing could pick it up.
Your good friend stumbled through the rehearsal room’s open door, panting fiercely. You didn’t grace him with a look and became more aggressive in playing and faster. Yamaguchi had to press a flat palm on his chest to control his breathing before he was able to do anything. Letting the last tunes echo in the room, you turned on the small stool, crossing your legs clad in dressy pants.
Yamaguchi was about to say something when his eyes darted around the room and realized that it was solely you sitting there waiting for him, “Hey!” he grinned widely. “I’m earlier than Alma... I’m the nice friend!”
“No...you are late… one and a half hours...that doesn’t qualify you for being the nice friend. I’m the nice friend waiting around for you lot,” you sighed, standing up to grab your cello out of its case, making space for Tadashi to get to his seat in front of the piano.
“Sorry...I tried to grab some coffee for you but the line was so long and I would have been even later,” he said as he fumbled with the stool to adjust it to his height.
“At least you would have been here with coffee,” you grumbled and started tuning the cello. Tadashi generously helped you out by playing the tune on the keys so you could do it correctly.
“How’s your boyfriend?” you asked after you had finished tuning and were rummaging through your sheet music to find the songs the couple whose wedding you were to play at next week requested.
Tadashi’s mood soured a little bit. He dropped his own sheets and sighed deeply. “He’s okay...we had a little accident where he ran after a shopping cart, tripped, and crashed into a bush along with the shopping cart. He has a light concussion and his hand is damaged for a few weeks… I’ve been at his apartment until this morning. “
He stacked the sheets together and gave you a look, “That’s why I’ve been late. I had to go all the way back to my apartment, get my violin and water my plants.”
“You could have just texted me and I could have gotten lunch,” you whined, pouting at him. “I mean, I’m sorry that happened to your boyfriend...wait a minute...did you just say he ran after a shopping cart?”
Tadashi tried to explain, and you tried to comprehend the story about Tadashi’s boyfriend’s injury.
“Are the instruments okay?” you inquired after the story had settled in. Tadashi huffed in amusement. “I’m telling you that we had to call an ambulance because of his head injury looked so bad with all that blood and you’re asking if the instruments are okay?”
“Um….” you shrugged. “Yes...I mean they’re not insured or anything...right?”
The two of you glanced at your violin and cello, respectively. Both of your instruments were insured, pretty high, that is, since they were your livelihood.
“They’re not….” Yamaguchi sighed, then added, “But they’re okay...Yuuji invested in a good case for his bass and my Synthesizer bag landed on his head….actually it was the reason for his concussion….”
“How many brain cells has he left?”
“Honestly, I don’t think that many,” Tadashi swirled on his stool, a dopey smile on his face. You had to smirk. Yamaguchi had been weirdly infatuated with his boyfriend for over two years. Lovesick fool.
Two years of them being official and one awful long year of Yamaguchi pining over Terushima’s Instagram profile. Terushima worked at this automobile repair shop, and Tadashi had stopped there one day when his scooter had given out.
Terushima had worked on his scooter and put the flowers Tadashi had gotten for his kitchen table in some water. Then he had offered to carry his groceries to Yamaguchi’s apartment because the vehicle had to stay in the shop for further repairs. Tadashi had later called you and frantically told you about his stupidity of declining this offer in panic.
“He’s been in a bad mood…” the pianist sighed, looking tired and a little stressed, “The doctors said that it will take him a few weeks to be up and running again...and we have this gig coming up and the band has no bass player at the moment.”
“Oh,” was your reply. A little awkward since you didn’t know how to react to this news. Sure, you felt pity for this band, mainly because Yamaguchi was in it, and he enjoyed jamming with them, but since you had never been to their performances or knew Terushima to be sad about it, there was not much for you to empathize with. “I’m sure you can find a sub very quicky….”
“Good bassists are hard to find around here,” Yamaguchi sighed.
“Just ask some guitar player to sub in…” you said, hating yourself for suggesting it. “I mean, that’s what Terushima basically was right? Didn’t you tell me he is a guitar player turned bassist?”
You knew because Tadashi had told you about the squabble in the band of one of their guitarists being forced to change to bass for the band last year.
“But we need a stable bassist,” Tadashi sighed, running his fingers through his hair again. “We are playing at the De Angelis in two weeks and have the chance to get a ticket to compete in the NCBC in the fall….”
“Oh shite…” you cursed. The NCBC was not a small thing; you were aware of the massive competition because one of the former competitors had been a famous violinist before becoming the bassist for the band Black Jackals, they were managed by MSBY.
“You know…” you said, realizing how much this chance to compete meant for Tadashi and wanted to offer your help, “If the sub-in needs any pointers I’d be glad to give some basic bass playing pointers:”
Tadashi froze for a second, then his head whipped up to stare at you. Open mouth, and eyes glinting as if a sudden vagary was forming in his brain.
“Y/N…” he said, a smile dawning on his face,” I almost forgot...you play the bass right?”
“Yeah... that’s why I offered…” you started, but Yamaguchi stood up so rapidly and practically jumped towards you. You squeaked and swatted at him with your bow. Tadashi swiftly dodged it and grabbed your hand, holding said bow.
“I beg you please,” he uttered, “Sub in as our bassist...only for a few weeks until Yuuji is better….or at least until the gig!”
»»——♬——««
It was a sigh of relief that escaped Semi’s lungs alongside the puff of smoke he exhaled from his cigarette when he read Tadashi’s text that he had found them a temporary bassist. Despite Yamaguchi’s insistence that the person was quote-unquote excellent and really good, Semi was nervous.
Yesterday, he’d called and confirmed the gig with Daishou because Terushima and Semi had pressed him over video call to do so. Suna had been the one to claim that people like Daishou didn’t like to wait to hear back from upcoming artists, and so he gave in. The band was a democratic one. Currently, it was two against Semi (minus Tadashi, who had been sleeping, drooling all over Terushima’s shirt).
Yet, something felt...awfully weird after Yamaguchi had sent them the text and confirmed them meeting up at 8.30 in the band cellar of Semi’s and Suna’s University. The cellar was mainly used by them, and only due to its convenience being almost in the city center. Sometimes they practiced in the basement of Suna’s Uncle’s house, the place Suna and Semi were staying in.
However, the house was in the suburbs, and neither Yamaguchi nor Terushima had a car. Yamaguchi’s scooter didn’t have space for two people and their instruments. If Suna could not pick them up and give them a lift, they had to practice at the University.
So that’s where he was right now, laying on the old stuffy leather couch with his shoes on. Nobody who used this cellar cared about keeping up with maintaining it in a peak condition, so why would he. Cans and bottles of beer, crumpled sheets of music littered the narrow table in front of the couch, and the Persian carpet on the floor had some holes from cigarette butts.
Eita could have done something productive and not procrastinate writing the essay he had to do for one of his business courses for University. But he was just keeping up with his business and finance degree because his father wanted him to do so, and his mom wanted him to have a safety net. Since his father paid for uni...Semi took his time finishing that degree until he had the chance to land something with his music. And it seemed that this something was right around the corner.
The door was kicked open with a loud bang by Suna, yawning as he carried in a carton of pizza and some parts of his drum set.
“Sup grammy…” he said, watching gleefully how Semi frowned at his comment. “I got late lunch...or early dinner….”
“Bro... it’s cold.” he said and threw the pizza carton on Semi’s lap.
“Can’t have your pizza and eat it too...” Suna tutted and started setting up the drum set, “So any ideas who that new bassist is...anyone wanna bet that Terushima is going to be a bitch about it?”
A few moments later, before Semi could reply, Terushima came into the cellar, grumpy face and struggling with his bandaged arm.
“Dashi texted that they’re going to be here in like ten minutes…” he muttered, slumping down next to Semi and stuffed his face with cold pizza, chewing loudly and complaining that “The new guy better know their place….”
Suna just snickered triumphantly, and Semi looked around. Maybe they should clean up a little...to make a good impression. If it was someone Tadashi knew from University, the person might have something against the room’s mess. But then again, he didn’t want to pretend to be someone he was not for some temporary replacement, no matter how thankful Eita was for the help. He stood up and started to organize the beer cans and bottles by color. Maybe the mess would look a little bit more artistic this way.
»»——♬——««
Tadashi was trying to comfort you, stroking your shoulder gently as you gripped the straps of the bag of your electric bass. Tadashi had pleaded, begged, and later convinced Alma to join in on the fun ( the girl had her way to make you have a bad conscience without having reasons for one).
Yamaguchi even took you out to lunch at your favorite cafe and let you have two cakes as a dessert before he was able to convince you to at least try it out. He promised that the guys were nice, even though they might not look like it, and made sure to come back to your apartment with you to personally escort you to the rehearsal.
The two of you had some tea in your apartment, and Tadashi took care of the houseplant he’d given you, praising you for keeping her up so well. He didn’t know that the poor thing died two weeks into being in your possession, and you had not noticed until you had replaced the plant behind Yamaguchi’s back with a slightly bigger version of it. You also changed into a skirt and blouse since you would not be playing the cello tonight.
“I know you’re nervous with new people, but you don’t have to….” Tadashi soothingly said, “Teru is just grumpy because he is hungry 24/7, and Suna makes stupid joked, but he is the band mom and quotes old vines and memes and ….”
“Yes, yes...they look scary but are actually sweet cinnamon rolls too precious for this world,” you swatted his hand away, grunting, “Let’s get this over with...lead the way Dashi….”
Yamaguchi guided you down the stairs and to the end of a cold stone-walled hallway that led to a heavy metal door that most likely was soundproof. Great, if those people brutally murdered you in this establishment, nobody would hear your screams. The thought made you hide behind Yamaguchi’s tall figure as he opened the door announcing your arrival to the others.
“Hey everyone...this is our new bassist,” he grinned and stepped aside to present you to the others’ gawks. “Come on, introduce yourself! Open your eyes, goddamn it!”
You had closed your eyes as a reflex, gripping the straps of your bags with both hands but opened your eyes slightly to peer back at the three males and murmured, “Hi, um...my name is….”
The words got stuck in your throat when you saw him. His hair was an ash brown-haired boy with darker tips; they had not changed. He, however, was older now, 24, just like you. His sharp brown eyes looked at you in shock and recognition, then anger flickered through his eyes as you scrutinized each other after all these years.
It was panic running through your veins, and the adrenaline rush you were having caused you to utter the following words and were simultaneously echoed by the boy you had last seen six years ago.
“Absolutely not!”