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there was only one love in his life and it was music.
it blossomed when he was twelve-years-old. it was much simpler then. he remembers sitting on the dining table, legs swaying as he eats the freshly made food his mother prepared for him and his brother. it was oyakodon, his favorite.
spoon in his mouth, he tuned out of his surroundings and focused on the burst of flavors that hit his taste buds. best dinner ever, he could fondly recall. it wasn’t until a sudden kick to the shin knocked him right out of his senses did he open his eyes and find his big brother staring back at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“ya’ hear that, rin-rin? mom says ya’ have piano lessons after school now!”
rindō’s nose scrunches.
rest assured, he was less than stellar about his mother’s wishes; especially when he had to endure ran’s ceaseless teasing and name-calling — his little feet scurried as fast as it could take him to tug on the hem of her dress, whining about his big brother’s mean jokes.
in the summer of 2001, he took his first taste of delinquency, shunning his midday piano lessons whenever he could. ode to joy, fur elise, clair de lune… he was beyond worn and weary of rehearsing it and performing it for house guests to appease his beloved mother.
a bit of trouble wouldn’t hurt.
a tussle here, a street fight there; he and ran exhausted hours of their day to intimidate kids three years their senior and carved a reputation for themselves in the neighborhood.
it was a breath of fresh air!
rindō wipes the thin layer of sweat on his forehead with the back of his sleeve. closed fists, he was about to land a good punch when the most daunting noise cut through the open air.
the customized ringtone for their mother.
skin to wooden flooring, it was the lowest he bowed and the longest he remained silent. it was maddening, yet he felt helpless, unsure of how to ease her anger. so, he let his thoughts wander, seeking solace in his head, waiting for her ire to subside.
after all, she could never stay mad at him — not when he looked at her like a guilt-ridden pup, as he muttered a tiny, “i’m sorry.”
“mama’s boy.” he heard ran scoff in the far background.
days turned to weeks then months and he soon found comfort in the world of music. in those moments, there was nothing else to fuss about, but the mellow flow of notes on a sheet of music. with time, playing the piano became second nature for him and he began to explore other instruments such as the bass and drums.
although he bemoaned the prospect of having to spend another afternoon confined to his home, enduring the chastisement of an elderly man over his clumsy fingers, he eventually grew to appreciate the experience later in life. who would’ve thought chicks dig guys who played the bass?
it came full circle at the end of 2009.
as he walked into his favorite music store, he noticed that the employees had just finished setting up a new turntable in the window display. curious, he approached the equipment and checked the price tag, a sense of intrigue bubbling up within him. without a second of hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed ran, and the rest was history.
few to none knew of his hobby and it would continue to stay that way until he decided otherwise [translation : his older brother made fun of him one too many times]. he beseeched for any unforeseen deity or entity to listen to his plea — may only those with the sound of mind within his tight-knit friend group [translation: kakucho and kokonoi] find out about his musical endeavors.
regardless of ran’s incessant criticism, he was confident in his capabilities.
his talent was undeniable; it was neither baseless nor a biased judgment. whenever he played any of his mixes, the crowd would go wild, drawn in by the originality of his music.
and who could blame them?
he poured countless hours into perfecting his craft, meticulously blending beats, experimenting with different sounds, and sampling songs, all in pursuit of creating something and unlike anything else out there.
at the outset, the one person he confided in was his brother… who then shared it with the rest of their friends.
even though sanzu didn’t think twice to make fun of him for having a “sensitive soul,” most of them were pleasantly impressed with his skills and urged him to perform at modest get-togethers and events outside the bounds of the clubs owned by the brothers.
as his popularity grew through word-of-mouth, a burgeoning demand for his appearance emerged.
despite his growing popularity, rindō was determined to keep his hobby exclusive from the general public. no one besides his friends could book a gig with him. nonetheless, his talent cannot be denied. the energy in the room reached a fever pitch as he mixed and blended the beats with effortless skill.
over the course of the last week, kokonoi repeatedly texted him with a request to DJ at a party for a close friend, yet interestingly enough, he conveniently omitted the fact that it was a chick’s party.
there were always two sides to every situation — the good and bad. sure, he was given a refill of his drink of choice and he was surrounded by women his age who didn’t hide the shameless looks they tossed him but the drink tasted cheep and frankly, these women were just an obstacle to his true love:
music.
a couple of them even tried to get close to his booth which was a massive no-no.
he was an artist at birth; bearing the mind, heart, and soul and nothing can take that away from him. as a result, he had been yearning to play his five-minute remix. it was a slow death; the weight of his inaction hung heavy on him, it was as if he acted a sin and stood there in desperation to repent.
this was the nth song of kuraki mai, her voice echo verses about love on his high-quality speakers for all to hear.
it was soul-crushing.
the only bright side to this whole situation was meeting you.
he didn’t know your relationship with the birthday girl — hell, for all he knows you could be her cousin, best friend, or an ex-girlfriend she was trying to win back — and he didn’t care about specifics. right now, you were a girl and he was a boy and it couldn’t be any more obvious that he was into you.
he weaves himself through the bodies standing idle in the living room on his way towards the kitchen where they had a mini bar set up when he bumped into you. he wasn’t sure if you offered to make his drink out of the genuine kindness of your heart or pity after seeing him turn down the fourth girl persistent on dating him this evening.
either way, he took the opportunity to chat up a pretty girl.
it was truly, madly, and deeply embarrassing how quickly he switched from rolling his eyes at kuraki mai’s thrills about love to feeling like she was speaking to his very core.
a short moment with you left him feeling he knew you for years. it was amazing how well you were able to draw him out of his shell. he was always the more reserved brother out of the two, after all.
for the first time, he was leading the conversation. he shared stories about the adventures he and his brothers went on, excluding the part about him being a delinquent in his younger years.
“bullshit. i refused to believe that happened. you’re pulling my leg here, haitani.” you shake your head in a mirthful giggle.
“well, you should because it did happen.” he recounts the events of that fateful night. he paints a dramatic and vivid picture of ran’s explosive outburst.
with detail, he describes how his older brother had angrily thrown out his guests from their shared apartment, leaving him to take cover in the bathroom until the wee hours of the morning. it was only after ran fell asleep did he sneak out to carefully select a gift to appease his wrath.
nothing says “i’m sorry” like a box of mont blanc.
“and he didn’t get mad at you?”
his lavender eyes linger on your face and a faint tint of pink spreads across his cheeks. he didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. you look pretty as ever under the dim lighting.
rindō clears his throat. “uh, no… he didn’t. i’m also surprised i was the only one who managed to leave the apartment unscathed.”
you take a sip of your drink and nod along to his words.
“well, that’s a relief to hear. it’d be a great shame if such a handsome face was covered in bruises.”
you think he was handsome?
as a haitani, he had grown accustomed to girls flocking him wherever he went, eager to shower him with declarations of love. it was a hassle to leave campus grounds without at least three girls standing by his locker during his high school days. to him, the constant fawning was nothing more than a cheap attempt to win his affections.
however, it feels different hearing from you.
he leans down to meet your gaze; you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. you can almost see the shock in his eyes when look at him through your lashes.
he swallows hard.
“are you always this bold?” his voice, low and husky.
“nope!” you beam, popping the ‘p,’ “but the vodka does a great job at making it seem like it!” the tension between the two of you was palpable.
the sound of your playful taunts didn’t bother him. it was uncharacteristic. nine times out of ten, he hated it when others poked fun at him. memories from his childhood flood his mind, where his older brother’s friends would tease him relentlessly, despite the one-year age gap.
but tonight, in this random chick’s apartment, drowned in the dinky lights, he was willing to let it all slide if it means he can make you laugh.
in this very moment, he was able to forget the mind-numbingly boring party and focus solely on you, hoping to extend the fleeting seconds he shared with you. he wants to make you laugh again, hoping it would keep you near a little while longer.
parted lips, he was going to add to the conversation when you were abruptly dragged away by a friend. he watches as you turn to him with a cute wave, mouthing a sly “i’ll be back!” before disappearing into the sea of people.
the buzz of voices fill the air.
he couldn’t put his finger on it, on what it was that had brought on this sudden and new rush of emotions, but he knew it was something different.
he rested a hand where his heart would be and felt his breath hitch. has it always been beating this fast? with each passing moment, his heart beat faster and faster, and he could feel the blood pulsing through his veins.
rindō’s nose scrunches.
what happened to him? what became of him? he used to scoff at the idea of love and romance, mocked those who yearn for it, yet here he stands, behaving similar to a middle schooler with a crush.
it was an unfamiliar sensation; to feel his heart skip a beat every time he thought of you, or to feel his palms sweat when he remembers how close you stood beside him.
it was very… eye-opening .
to make matters worse, a slew of love songs play through the speakers — each one more saccharine and sentimental than the last. he could feel his eyes roll to the back of his head at the lyrics, though, at the same time, he thought of you once more.
it was as if the universe was conspiring against him, swamping him with reminders of his feelings at every turn. he can feel his resolve slipping, his defense crumbling.
“god, i need to get a grip,” rindō mutters under his breath.
trust you by yuna ito.
lovers again by exile.
kiss kiss kiss by beni.
he had been spinning the corniest tracks known to mankind for hours by then, and he was bored stiff. as he surveys the crowd, his sights land on you approaching him. he runs a quick hand through his blond locks.
“hey there, stranger,” he greets with a lazy drawl, leaning over the DJ booth to get closer to you, “whatcha doing here?”
“oh, you know, enjoying the music, specifically the man behind it.”
the tip of his ears turn pink, and he musters the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind.
“this party is starting to drag. why don’t we ditch it and go somewhere more exciting?”
as he waits for your response, a part of him pins his hopes on you saying yes. if he closes his eyes, a lucid image of you telling him to give you a minute while you grab your purse. he eagerly anticipates the delight of an evening spent alone with you.
but the silence stretches on and on and on, and the hoped-for response never comes. with each passing second, the seed of worry planted deep in his mind grows larger, and he begins to wonder if he misread the situation.
you smile at him, one more teasing than the last. “while that does sound tempting, i don’t think i can just leave… it’s my birthday party, after all.”
fuck..
every speckle of color drained from his face. you weren’t the birthday girl’s cousin, best friend, or ex-girlfriend, like he originally thought. you were the birthday girl. he wanted nothing more than to hide his face in his hands. if ran were here, he would’ve been laughing until his stomach hurt.
of course, only he would make the mistake of insulting the girl he was interested in. he wanted the ground to swallow him whole until you ultimately forgot his existence.
too mortified to find anything else to say to you, he settles on a sheepish grin as you reassure him with a smile of your own and a pat on the arm. he finds it hard to believe he didn’t ruin his chances with you.
and to his bewilderment, you found his honesty endearing. “i’d take you up on your offer,” you say, “you mind if we leave after the party, though?”
rindō shakes his head.
he feels a glimmer of confidence return; maybe his previous blunder didn’t ruin the rest of the night. even though it wasn’t the meet-cute you envisioned, you had to admit it was still a pretty memorable way to meet someone new.