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The thing about being a background guy, was Draken often felt like he was invisible. And it was a good thing. He didn't posses endless charm like Mikey, or wildness like Baji, or radiated comfort like Mitsuya.
He was just him.
Draken knew how to do his stuff and he was pretty good at it, enough to earn him a spot in Toman, but not so captivating that other label wanted him to do solo or some shits.
The thing about being a guy in his position was that he didn't need to pretend. He didn't need to act all tough or tried to be someone he wasn't. He knew there was a day when Mikey thought he couldn't perform well because he was tired of keeping his persona. He knew there was a day when Baji thought he couldn't write hits for their band because it didn't align with Toman's image.
He also knew that sometimes Mitsuya felt like that too.
Mitsuya didn't like to stand out. He tended to blend in the background, kinda like Draken. But Draken and most of Toman's fans seemed to know that he didn't fit the silent role. Even without energetic stage performance like Mikey or powerful sex appeal like Baji, fans loved and adored him dearly for his comforting presence.
Draken could totally relate.
Mitsuya was the one who produced those rather-slow-and-perfect-for-acoustic-session songs for Toman. Simple chords, with simple instrumental, yet being composed with the most poetic lines to go along with such mesmerizing music.
The thing about being the background guy, was that Draken could witness Mitsuya went to different level of serenity when Toman performed his songs.
The way Mitsuya allowed himself to surrender to the music when Mikey sang, "So, our marching legs are marching socks, and we're all too small, to talk to God."1
Or the way Mitsuya looked at the audience, throwing surreptitious smile, which Draken knew had been fueling the whole rabid theories about the secret meaning behind the song (yes, several hardcore fans theorize about this and Draken happened to read some), as he did the backing vocal for, "I don't love you, I'm just passing the time."2
Or that one time, when Mitsuya sang along to, "'Cause these words are knives that often leave scars, the fear of falling apart,"3 and Draken caught him sighing sadly when he thought nobody was watching.
The moments that happened before his eyes, centered in a certain bassist, that the presence was an inch from being the resident in Draken's heart.
His permanent perhaps.
The endless possibility that always stays with him, the limitless opportunities that always presents, but that was all Mitsuya were gonna be.
The maybe to his every what ifs.
What Draken and Mitsuya had was painfully close to everything, and ironically, was also in the brink of nothing.
They might take a leap, change the status quo.
But, they didn't.
They would never.
Because, they couldn't afford relationship.
Not when Draken didn't know what he wanted from Mitsuya, what made him didn't want to let Mitsuya go.
Not when Draken still questioned everything, that he couldn't decide if Mitsuya was friend, lover, a little bit of both, anything in between, or none of that.
Not when Draken couldn't tell apart all the moments he spent in secret with Mitsuya, the dreams he had when Mitsuya was not in his arms; the longing, the yearning, the emptiness disguised as, 'I don't have anyone to talk with, if Mitsuya wasn't here.'
Mitsuya deserved to be loved in the spotlight, not in dimness of their backstage.
Mitsuya deserved to be treated like the main show, not like short breaks, or the brief interludes when their schedule was maddening.
Mitsuya deserved the world.
Mitsuya deserved everything.
But, Draken couldn't afford those.
There was no room for romance between Toman members. He and Mitsuya knew this. It was unwritten rules among them. All of the sneaky pleasures, the hidden affairs, were secrets they had shared forever. It was nothing but fleeting moments well spent together. And it would need to stay that way if they didn't want any gossip befell their band.
Draken swallowed every sophisticated wonder, every complicated admiration, every perplexing desire he had for Mitsuya. He always did that. After all, he had done it million times before today.
It shouldn't be harder than the previous times, right?
"You're spacing out," Mitsuya clicked his fingers in front of his face as, he tuned his instrument. Draken blinked. The bassist actually chuckled at his reaction. "Nervous much?"
If it was Mikey, he probably teased him. If it was Baji, he probably mocked him.
But since it was Mitsuya, the question was laced with layers of unspoken concerns and genuine worries.
Draken knew that.
Mitsuya knew that Draken knew.
"Maybe," Draken adjusted his earphones, giving Mitsuya what he hoped to be a 'don't worry about me, I'm okay' smile.
Mitsuya observed him for a while.
"We're gonna ace this," he said finally, smiling back. "We always do."
Mitsuya turned his body as Mikey went to the stage and greeted the audience. Baji joined him.
Draken watched as Mitsuya stepped forward to wave at several fangirls and fanboys.
Draken stood up, doing the same.
Mitsuya glanced back, and when their eyes collided, Draken could feel the identical relief reflected on their faces.
The thing about the man in his position, was that Draken learned his cue, knowing when to enter the rhythm, when to harmonize, when to synchronize, and ... when to hold himself back.
And he did what he did best.
He sat and he started playing.
The show must go on.