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The thud of the bass is the first thing to hit him. Crashing into him full force; the rock convert he's never been to. Then, the notes strumming out of a finely- tuned guitar dance through his head. Raw and powerful, its electricity runs down the length of his body, from head to toe. It travels with unbelievable speed through the circuit board that is his body. This surge flows through him, sending a shiver down his spine that just makes him shudder. The drum holding it all together shrouds itself in the sounds of its companions. Its attempts to hide are futile; he always found it. Strong beat holding everything together. Finally, the vocals. To him, that was the most important part. A melody gives feeling, conveys the sadness or anger in a song. But, words tell a story. What those words say reveal the motivation behind emotion. There's sentiment in tone and that is the beauty of it. All these noises combine themselves, fit together in a perfect puzzle of cymbals, guitar solos, and interludes. And through a pair of headphones, he hears it right next to him. The music is practically coming from him it’s so defined. A concert in his head and no one else got tickets. It is so fucking magnificent.
It isn't just the sound either. When he does take them off, an odd occurrence for certain, he finds himself admiring their aesthetics. Sleek, streamlined designs and radiant colors. He could spend hours cradling one pair in his hands and taking in every detail. The color is his favorite part. He's never exactly had a favorite color and could never choose one so he's taken to finding identical pairs in differing hues. It can be an expensive hobby. He won’t deny that. Sometimes he wishes that he collected seashells or rubber ducks or something. But no, he's chosen an item that cost a few hundred thousand yen a pop. Though, he supposes that’s one of the perks of having a job as a teenager - being to buy whatever the fuck you want.
Yes, the unmistakable allure of a pair of headphones is in their sound and their beauty - both factors make up their personality. It's like searching for a car or a date. If you don't like the way it looks or you don't like the way it sounds, you don't want it. Personality defines the way it conveys the music. And he thrives on the music. If it isn't playing, just right, he can't do it. What is it? Well, anything really. Life. The music is a security blanket. A shield from the world. The sound that comes or of those headphones is the bubble that keeps everything out. The proverbial glue that holds the strained world together. If it wasn't there, he wouldn't be.
That's why Yosuke needs to battle with his headphones on. That's why he's gotten scolded nearly a hundred times for wearing them at work. And that's why he'd had to ask Souji, in a quiet voice and while avoiding direct eye contact, if he could keep them on during their first makeout session.
It wasn't that Yosuke didn't like kissing him. Souji wasn’t what you'd call a bad kisser and his mouth did taste a bit like mint. It was just that it made Yosuke nervous. So nervous that a few times he almost threw up, which wasn't encouraging for Souji in the least. The music brought him into a different realm. It distracted and, at the same time, allowed him to focus.
For those moments he would forget that they were on the loveseat in Dojima's dimly-lit living room at two in the afternoon, timing Nanako's return from school and praying Dojima's hadn't left work early. He could forget that his best friend had him pinned down on the sofa and was running butterfly kisses up and down his neck, his face, and into his hair. Instead, he could focus on Souji's mouth, soft lips against his skin. Souji's hands straying everywhere. The heavy musk of the cologne Souji had worn in an effort to impress the only person in the world it didn't matter to.
It became a ritual to them. And Souji never complained when he got tangled up in the wires or when they would have to stop because the cord unplugged itself and Yosuke would start hyperventilating. Yosuke thought it was because Souji was just too kind to say anything and, at first, that had been true.
But, as time went on, the underlying truth became that there was something about those headphones, and Yosuke wearing them, that turned him on. It may have been that Souji realized just how vulnerable Yosuke was when he needed to tune out the world. It certainly didn't help that he wore them constantly. Yosuke never left the house without a pair of headphones around his neck. It became a bit of a problem when they were all fighting shadows; Souji found himself spending much time avoiding eye contact with Yosuke and getting fairly flustered when that failed.
So, they continued to fool around and Souji continued to be habitually accepting of Yosuke's anxiety. And he could hardly tell if this relationship was serious or strictly a "we're best friends who stick our tongues down each other's throats sometimes" sort of deal because neither of them were really accustomed to talking about their own emotions.
Then, Yosuke said the words Souji never thought he would hear. I love you. At the time, he didn’t really think much of it though.
It wasn’t until the day Yosuke finally took his headphones off that Souji knew those words were true.
The duo sit across from each other on the floor of Yosuke's bedroom. Yosuke attempting to explain the obvious appeal of a crimson red pair of headphones while Souji finds himself thinking how much more interesting they would be if they were on Yosuke's head while he was panting and whispering Souji’s name.
"No, but look at this part. I love the way this line curves into this one and you can't see it now but when these babies are outside in the summer they get this cool shine from the sunlight. It's practically blinding, man. It’s so fucking cool. "
"Yeah? Sounds awesome."
" But you can't imagine the sound that comes out of these things, it crystal, man, and I mean crystal, clear."
Yosuke turns the headphones over in his hands, looking them over, caressing them. He turns his attention back to Souji.
"Seriously, try them on. You'll never want to take them off. They're so frickin' comfortable, too."
He lifts the headphones and places them gently in Souji's head, fitting the speakers- snugly around his ears.
"Hold on," Yosuke says as he scrolls through the menu of his iPod for a song. He clicks “play” and a beat manifests in Souji’s ears.
He hears the crash of the bass, and the roar of the guitar, and the cry of the drums, and the whine of the vocals. It's a song he'd heard a million times before, but now it's different somehow. There was a new quality to it. A sort of electric sensation that ran a course through his nerves and veins, that wanted to reach and reverberate through every inch of his body. That was when he understood. Everything. Maybe he hadn't uncovered the profound mysteries of the universe but, at the very least, he understood his best friend.
It was one thing to sympathize with a person. He could listen, give advice, and try, only try, to grasp their situation. That was what he’d done with every other person, every friend or acquaintance that had ever needed his help. It was all he could do. But he'd never been so in tune with a person in this way. In handing over those headphones, Yosuke had, albeit unknowingly, offered up a part of himself to Souji. He'd given him access to what keeps him safe and to what keeps him sane. And Yosuke may not have understood, but Souji really, finally "got him".