Chapter Text
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you wanted.
I’m sorry for being worthless.
I’m sorry, so… please, please don’t yell at me.
Please don’t yell at Mom… she’s crying, can’t you see…?
Please don’t throw us away.
I can do better… I can be better…!
I’ll be good… I’ll be amazing…!!
So please… please…
“Don’t throw me away!!”
Asahi Nayuta woke to his alarm with a gasp, beads of sweat dripping down his face. His chest heaved as he breathed in and out, a shudder running through his body as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached out to grab the glass of water always kept on his bedside table. Taking a sip, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“It’s warm…”
Bemoaning the temperature but accepting his fate, he drank until the cup was empty and placed it back on the table with a sigh. His mother was always asking him to drink more water, and the last thing he wanted was to make her worry. She did that enough already. The least he could do was try and soothe some of her concerns.
Swiping the screen of his phone to turn off the buzzing alarm, he got to his feet and pulled open the curtains to peer outside. Dark gray clouds swarmed across the sky, blocking the sun’s light from hitting the ground. If he listened closely, he thought he could hear the rumbling of thunder. A summer storm, it seemed.
Nayuta had never liked thunderstorms. They reminded him of times he’d rather forget.
For now, though, he’d leave the curtains open as he exited his room and headed for the kitchen. A bundle of bright white dashed in front of him as he entered.
“Ah…” he blinked down at his feet. “Morning, Nyankotaro.”
The cat let out a mrrow in response, winding between his legs with warm purrs that broke the silence of the dimly-lit apartment. Nayuta scooped her up into his arms and hummed, scratching behind her ears and beneath her chin affectionately. When it seemed like she’d had enough, he set her down on the couch and focused his attention on making breakfast instead.
Like most mornings, he fell into routine rather easily: toast and coffee with lemon as a quick meal, fill up Nyankotaro’s food bowl before getting dressed, organize and pack notes for class, and he was off. The air was uncomfortably humid, making him sweat before he had even reached the station.
I hate July, he thought to himself bitterly. What a shitty month. I’ll have to shower before work later.
Since he and his mother weren’t particularly well-off, he had picked up a part-time job at a small, local cafe near his apartment back when he was in his second year of high school. The pay wasn’t luxurious by any means, but the owner was friendly and it was close to home. Free coffee was an added bonus.
Nayuta’s life was simple, all in all. He got up, went to school, and worked when he had to. Aside from his (arguably concerning) lack of friends, there was nothing he felt he was missing. And it wasn’t like he was bothered by it—friends usually didn’t work out for him. There was nothing he wished for or desired, beyond his world remaining stable. Nayuta didn’t have time for things like dreams.
He let out a breath tiredly as he entered the train, squeezing past people to get to one of the more secluded seats.
It was a day like any other—the same as always.
-
Crossing over the borderline between the comfort of the air-conditioned building and into the outdoors was never pleasant, but the sweltering warmth certainly did it no favors.
Sakaigawa Miyuki resisted the urge to groan aloud as a wave of heat swept over him.
Summer was far from his least favorite season; if anything, he preferred it, for reasons that most people would agree with. It was full of chances to get out and have fun, go to festivals and beaches and the like. What he didn’t like was days like this, when the weather was sticky and humid and the sun wasn’t even shining.
He managed to hold back a groan, though, at least until he ran into who he was looking for.
“Yo.”
Reon glanced up as Miyuki stopped, not blinking at his expression of disbelief.
“Don’t ‘yo’ me, seriously. You’re gonna get heat stroke dressed like that.”
“I’m not,” complained Reon. Despite the high temperature, he was wearing both a long-sleeved hoodie and black sweatpants. “And it’s not that hot. Barely even 27 degrees.”
“Whatever you say, city boy,” Miyuki said dryly. If Reon was bothered by the teasing, he didn’t acknowledge it, merely moving over to make more space on the bench he was sitting on. “What’s so important that you wanted to meet me this early in the morning?”
Dropping his bag, he sat down and looked closely at the screen of the tablet Reon had pulled out. On it was a mess of musical notes, haphazard scribbles covering the digital page.
“I finished transcribing the solo part,” Reon said eagerly. “It looks messy, I know, but now that it’s all down, I should be able to memorize the part much faster.”
The song was a pop piece Reon had suggested a couple weeks ago, back when he had been struggling to come up with anything original. Miyuki had recommended they try playing a cover of something before moving onto original music, and after a bit of pushing, Reon agreed.
The solo in question was one for guitar that they had been having trouble running through. Privately, Miyuki didn’t really think the solo mattered much, considering A) there were only the two of them playing and B) it was impressive enough that Reon was managing to switch between guitar and keyboard throughout the song while singing simultaneously. But Reon was quite likely the biggest perfectionist he had ever met, so there wasn’t much point in telling him to not worry about it.
“I thought you normally improvise this sort of thing,” Miyuki remarked, scanning over the notes.
“Well, yeah. But I can wait to try adding in stuff until I get the basic structure of it down.” Reon’s eyes were shining with excitement as he spoke. Miyuki found it endearing, how much passion he threw into music.
“I see,” he smiled. “Well, good job, Reon.”
Reon opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a yawn. It was then that Miyuki noticed the heavy dark circles under his eyes. He sighed.
“You need to stop pulling all-nighters to get stuff done, though.”
“It wasn’t an all-nighter,” Reon mumbled. “I did go to bed. At around five in the morning.”
That… doesn’t really make it better.
“Look, just… take a nap sometime today, alright? You know we have finals coming up. If you get some sleep, I found a nice cafe a couple stations away we could go to later. Consider it a treat for finishing the transcription.”
“Really?” Reon grinned. “That sounds great. Oh, and—” glancing down at the screen, he froze up. “—aaaah!! I-it’s already this late?!”
Panicked, he shoved his tablet into his messenger bag and jumped up.
“Class starts in five minutes, shit…! Uh, I’ll text you, Yuki! See you later!”
With a quick wave, he dashed off. Miyuki couldn’t help but laugh to himself, shaking his head. Reon always seemed to be forgetting things last minute, tripping over his own feet to manage everything he wanted to do. Some might have seen it as a sign of clumsiness, of hindrance, but Miyuki thought it was charming.
He hoped things would stay like this, for a long time yet.
He and Reon had made a promise, after all: to stay by each other’s sides, all the way until they reached their dreams.
Never to be broken.
-
“Hey, is that…?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
…Too loud.
“Geez, how’s he even enrolled here anymore?”
“Pfft, I know, right?”
There was a chorus of giggles, and Kenta ignored the urge to lift his head. He swallowed a bite of food, mouth dry, feeling his stomach churn.
“Sheesh, this school’s host to a whole bunch of nutjobs, huh?”
“Ahaha! You’re right! There’s that narcoleptic freshman, and… that guy that thinks he’s an alien?”
It’s too loud.
His head was beginning to spin, the pounding of his heart reverberating in his ears.
“Hey, hey, d’you think he’d talk to me if I went up to him…?”
“Eek! Don’t joke about that!!”
Suddenly, his stomach lurched. Feeling ill, he stumbled up from his seat and went to throw away his meal. Grabbing his bag, he staggered out of the dining hall, hand held tight against his mouth. If he was met with a collection of stares and whispers, he ignored them, focusing instead on finding the nearest bathroom.
When he did, he pushed the door open, quickly making his way over to the stall farthest from the entrance and locking it behind him. He sank to the floor with a weak groan, bringing his knees up to his chest and curling into a ball.
I thought I was doing better.
It had been days since he’d last had an attack like this. Kenta knew that improvement and healing were steep journeys, and having rough spots was normal. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t painful when he relapsed, however minuscule.
He focused on taking deep breaths, closing his eyes and fidgeting with his bracelet. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold it for seven seconds. Let it out for eight seconds.
By the time he felt calm enough to stand up again, his lunch hour was over. Still somewhat shaky on his feet, he splashed cold water on his face before leaving the bathroom and heading in the direction of his next class. Regardless of how his struggles affected him, he couldn’t afford to let them interfere with his day-to-day life. All he could possibly do was push aside the catalyst and move forward.
Of course, reality wouldn’t be so kind as to give him a break.
“Yo… isn’t that Satozuka?”
“Satozuka…? Wait, you mean the senpai who…”
…If he plugged his ears, it was nobody’s business.
I’m sick of this. I’m sick of everything.
Voices, following him everywhere he went. Was it really so foolish of him to want some—any—sort of peace? A break from the suffering so regular it might as well have had a time marked in on his schedule?
An all-too-familiar chill suddenly crawled up his spine at the thought. He could hear a very different voice, now, one separated from the crowds around him. One he so desperately wanted to leave behind and never so much as think of again.
“Peace? For you?” it hissed.
Fresh guilt poured over him.
No… I don’t deserve that, Kenta thought weakly. Happiness isn’t… it’s not meant for me.
He was rotten down to the core—that was the sort of man Satozuka Kenta was. But he still couldn’t stop himself from selfishly wishing things would change. Desperate for a salvation he wasn’t worthy of.
…What a filthy dream it is.
-
“I’m home~!”
A cheery voice rang out through the apartment, filling it with a sense of warmth and homeliness that only Akebono Ryo could bring. He dropped his shoes at the entryway, left his bag on top of the kitchen counter, and swept open the door to the bedroom with a flourish.
“Oh… Ryo.”
Tired eyes the color of sea glass looked up at him as he practically bounced over to the bed, a glowing smile on his face.
“Kenken~!” he chirped. “How was your day? Classes go well?”
Kenta blinked, his face melting into a look of calm content that only Ryo knew to be a smile.
“It… it was fine. What about you?”
Something about his tone bothered Ryo, but he ignored it and dropped onto his knees next to the bed to rest his chin on the mattress.
“Lots of fun. I made four whole people smile today. One lady said my playing was cool.”
He could still remember the way she’d said it, her face alight with awe. Ryo never asked for money when he played his bass in public, because he thought the concept of it was odd, but the woman had insisted on giving him a small handful of candy. One of them, a grape flavored lollipop, he had saved for himself, and the rest he gave to a pair of children that had stopped to watch him. Their smiles had been the brightest, he thought.
But when Kenta winced in response, Ryo’s face fell.
“Sorry, Kenken. Is today a no-music day?”
At his words, it was as though memories themselves reflected in Kenta’s gaze, painful recollections on replay. Ryo just wished he could understand.
“If you don’t mind.” His voice was soft.
Music makes people happy. It makes them smile, and laugh. And yet…
“Of course I don’t.”
…Why is it that music can make humans cry the saddest tears too?
Humming to himself, Ryo climbed into the bed beside Kenta, gently wrapping his arms around the redhead and rubbing soothing circles into his back when he heard a soft, hardly noticeable cry.
“Kenken always acts brave,” he murmured. “But it’s okay to not be fine, too.”
Kenta mumbled something inaudible into Ryo’s chest.
“Hm~?”
“Ryo,” he repeated, just as quietly. “Would you kiss me?”
In lieu of a response, Ryo rolled over to get on top of him and leaned down to press their mouths together. There was a distinct warmth that budded in his chest when they were like this, when he was close to Kenta, that he felt as though he could never get enough of.
I love you, Kenken. I just wish you could love yourself as much as I love you.
Ryo interlocked their fingers and nibbled at Kenta’s bottom lip, the way he knew his partner liked. When they were together like this, in their shared apartment, it felt as though time had stopped. Ryo knew that for Kenta, these were often the only moments of tranquility he had. The world would melt away, nothing existing in their space except for the two of them. So for now, Ryo would kiss Kenta until his breaths slowed into a steady rhythm. He would hold him close until life was just a little more livable.
And when they fell into a warm, carefree sleep, Ryo would dream of a tomorrow they could greet without bittersweet sorrow.
-
Reon yawned as he pushed open the door to the cafe, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
Mmm… I shouldn’t have napped… they always just make me more tired than I started.
Scanning over the interior of the building, he relaxed somewhat at the easy-going atmosphere. It was a small space, but the owners had clearly made the most of it, with warm wood tones and plants giving the area a soothing and homely ambience. He perked up at the sight of a piano tucked into the corner, curiosity buzzing through him as he made his way over to a booth. Miyuki had already texted him to say he would be late, so Reon pulled his tablet out of his bag and brought up the musical sheets he had finished that morning.
I said I’d wait on improvising, but it wouldn’t hurt to jot down some ideas ahead of time.
Popping in an earbud, he pulled up the song and skipped ahead to the section he needed to work on.
“Excuse me. Are you ready to order?”
Hm… what sort of tone should I go with? That’s a good place to start.
“…Oi.”
I could try something bluesy… but maybe going in a jazzier direction would liven up the song more?
“Dude.”
Oh! I should talk to Yuki about the drum part, too. He might have a better idea of what beat would work best with this—
“Hey!!”
A sharp voice suddenly snapped into his ear, and Reon practically jumped up from his seat with a shrill cry.
“Kyaa!!”
Flinching, he turned to stare in confusion at the worker that had seemingly materialized out of thin air next to him.
“Wh-what the hell?”
The employee, a young man that looked to be around Reon’s age, fixed him with an annoyed look.
“Your order?”
“Oh, um… I’m waiting on someone. Could you come back in like, five minutes?”
“Sure,” the waiter sighed, brushing a hand through his fluffy silver hair. “Menus are at the back of the table.”
Part of Reon wanted to ask why had come up to get his order if he had noticed the fact the menus hadn’t even been touched, but decided there wasn’t much point. The slightest heat of embarrassment coloring his face, he pulled one out and began looking over the items.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard a bonafide Misono Reon shriek like that.”
He sputtered as Miyuki dropped into the booth across from him, the other man bursting into laughter at his expression.
“You’d better not tell me you watched that whole thing go down!” Reon whined. Miyuki snickered, scooping up a menu for himself.
“Only half of it.”
“Yuki!!”
Reon puffed out his cheeks in a pout, pointedly looking at the wall and not Miyuki.
“Kidding, kidding. I only really saw you get spooked by that waiter. Honestly, though, he looked kinda freaked out too when you jumped like that.” Miyuki chuckled as he spoke.
“Ugh… let’s just hurry up and order…”
Neither of them took long to pinpoint what they wanted, and before long the same man as before returned, nodding as they each put in their orders.
“…and with that, a glass of water for each of us,” Miyuki finished, his smile as carefree as always.
A beat passed, with nobody saying anything.
Frowning, Reon looked up from his tablet again only to freeze up at the sight of the waiter peering at his screen with a frown.
“Huh?”
“If you switched around the order of the solo section, the song would probably flow better.”
What?
“Ah… I’m sorry?” Miyuki offered with an awkward smile, looking just as startled as Reon felt.
Before he had the chance to respond himself, though, the waiter suddenly stumbled back, his eyes wide.
“A-ah—Sorry, I didn’t…! I’ll go get your orders ready!”
Bowing, he turned and quickly dashed off. Reon could only stare, hardly processing what had just happened. Furrowing his brow, he glanced back at the music.
“The hell was that about?” Miyuki questioned.
“…He’s right.”
“Reon?”
“I wouldn’t have even thought of that,” Reon said, staring at the screen. An indescribable emotion welled up in him. Was it awe? Admiration? Or… jealousy? “What the hell… that works perfectly with the song. And he got that from just a glance? Am I dreaming or something…?”
I wish I had come up with that…!
He grabbed his pen and began to scribble down notes haphazardly, marking sections and crossing out lines to edit later. Across the table, he heard Miyuki sigh.
“Can I suggest in advance you let me crash at your place to ensure you actually sleep tonight?”
-
With a groan and a half-hearted “I’m back,” Nayuta pushed open the door to his apartment. Nyankotaro greeted him instantly, sniffing at his shoes when he dropped them and following him into the living room with a meow as he moved.
“Welcome home, Nayuta.”
Nayuta relaxed instantly at the sound of his mother’s voice, smiling as he crossed over the floor to kiss her on the head.
“Thanks, Mom. Was your day okay?”
“Yes,” his mother responded, a tired-looking smile on her face. “Everything was well.”
Asahi Kaede was a frail-looking woman, with her thin figure and pale complexion. Beneath the surface, though, was a burning strength nobody could possibly see with just a glance. She was determined, enduring, and above all else, full of unconditional love for the people around her. Without that tenderness, Nayuta knew he never would have made it through life—through the debilitating darkness of his own mind.
Nobody in the world was more important to him.
“Were you able to get dinner? There are leftovers in the fridge.”
“I’m fine,” Nayuta answered. “Konoha-san made food for me while I was on my break.”
His boss, that was. If Nayuta were to be blunt, the man was an enigma; he wasn’t even sure if his name was actually Konoha, or if it was some sort of moniker. But his care for his employees was the real deal—there were more times than Nayuta could count in which Konoha had shown him kindness he didn’t think he deserved.
…Well, his skills laid more in making coffee than food, but as brutally honest Nayuta tended to be, even he wasn’t going to tell the man in charge of his paychecks that.
“And… your health?”
He stiffened. Needles of irritation pricked down his back, and he turned away to put his bag down and rummage through it. It was an easy excuse to not look her in the eyes.
“What about my health?”
Internally, he winced at how easily his tone had sharpened. He never felt like he could control it, the way his feelings boiled over the surface. But his mother didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Is it okay?”
Her voice was soft.
Nayuta didn’t turn around.
“Of course. You don’t need to worry so much, okay?”
He couldn’t stand it—the pity in her expression whenever she spoke of his health. It was shitty of him, he knew; she was his mother. She loved him more than anything, and her intentions were never anything but kindness. And yet the way she looked at him, in those moments—
“…Okay. I’m sorry, Nayuta.”
—it made him sick to his stomach.
…Why does she always apologize?
“It’s fine,” he plastered a reassuring smile onto his face and turned to look at her again. “I know you’re just looking out for me.”
It wasn’t her fault. None of it was her fault.
“I’m going to bed early tonight. I didn’t sleep well.”
Picking up his bag again, no longer needing the distraction, he headed towards the hall to retire to his bedroom for the night.
“Nayuta. I really am sorry. I know you don’t like talking about your condition.”
Nayuta couldn’t bear to look at her. Guilt tore at him.
“I promise… it’s fine.”
If she said anything else, he didn’t hear it over the sound of his door shutting.
I really am a terrible son, aren’t I?
Flipping the lights off, he settled down at his desk and turned on a small lamp. Bright enough to see what he was working on, but not visible through the crack under his door. His mother wouldn’t be able to tell he was still awake, this way. It was better she didn’t know what he was doing.
Sighing, he tugged what he needed from his bag and set it in front of him—a notebook.
Well, that was what he pretended it was, at least.
Skipping through countless pages of jagged, hardly-legible notes, he turned until he reached a blank page and began his usual routine.
…What’ll it be today, I wonder?
It was a mistake, talking to that guy at work about the piece he was working on. Nayuta hadn’t been able to drive the thoughts out of his head since.
I guess it doesn’t matter.
The truth was that Asahi Nayuta was cursed.
Nothing is going to come of this. It’s just a way of getting stress out. That’s all.
Music was always running through his head, songs with no form twisting like chains around his brain. It was a rotten thing, taking up permanent residence in him; an open wound that dripped with bitterness and resentment, a gaping cavity that held only darkness. It had stolen so much from him.
…Yeah. I’ll never let it happen to me.
His pen moved with fluid action, a melody coming to life under the dim light. Between the gaps, he wrote a mess of scattered lyrics, raw and unfiltered from deep within him.
[ Drown the world in flame ]
[ Laugh until my lungs fill with blood ]
[ Cut me on words that will never surface ]
[ The stains on your hands are never going to go away ]
Something in him shifted.
[ never. never. never . never never, never— ]
His heart was beating so loudly, so frantically.
[ just like how they never move away from my throat never stop choking the life out of me never understand how badly i want to rip apart your fucking being — ]
Nayuta slammed the staff pad shut in a panic, shoving it away and off the desk. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even see in front of him. Desperate wheezes and coughs escaped him, his chest tightening as he nearly fell to the ground.
Gasping for air, he quickly grabbed his bag and dug through it, snatching his inhaler from the front pocket and taking a puff. In-between puffs, he took deep breaths, eventually managing to dull the stabbing pain down to a small ache.
…I’m such a fucking idiot.
He groaned weakly.
Telling Mom she has nothing to worry about… dammit.
Most people wouldn’t see it as a curse; they would see it as a sign of genius. A blooming talent that, if tended to with care, would blossom into a skillset rivaling even professionals.
What a load of bullshit.
There was nothing good about it.
Nayuta didn’t hate music. He never had. A long time ago, he would have said with a wide smile that he loved it—loved composing, loved singing, loved listening. Nowadays, all he could bring himself to say was that he didn’t care.
Why do I keep doing this…?
Because at some point, music had turned into a noose around his neck.
Silently, Nayuta exited his room to brush his teeth and take his medication before going to sleep. Nyankotaro followed him back to his room, jumping onto his bed and sitting next to the pillow with round eyes. He set his alarm for the next morning, pulled the blankets up, and ran his hands through the cat’s soft white fur until his eyelids grew heavy.
It’s going to be okay.
Nyankotaro’s purring was like a soothing rhythm.
I’m not going to let it happen. Ever.
His breaths evening out, Nayuta sighed softly as he drifted into sleep.
No matter what.
For as long as I live.
I will never have anything to do with bands.