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To the world, Naoki may have been a musical prodigy who appeared once in a thousand moons, but to Sho, he was simply a fool so in love with music that he would willingly drown himself in it, would readily let the waves crush him till nothing remained of him.
That’s the extent this man was willing to go, if it meant letting out the symphony of sounds that constantly brewed within his head. To him, his body was simply the vessel. He would run it down and wear it down to no end if that was what it took to perfect a song. Perhaps this was why Naoki seemed like a force to be reckoned with, to be feared. However, what the world failed to see— the wear and tear, the jagged edges of an almost perfectly sculpted personage— Sho did. And once he did, it became impossible for him to turn his eyes and heart away from it.
✿
Over time, it became natural for Sho to spend more of his days, and even nights, around Naoki. He would often stay over at Naoki’s place, for a multitude of reasons — sometimes it was songwriting or practice, sometimes concern for Naoki when he showed signs of overworking and self-neglect, and other times a combination of both.
Some of those nights, he awoke to the faint sound of a piano, and when he followed the sound it always led to the sight of Naoki, bathed in a silvery moonlight, running his fingers over the piano-keys with a distant expression on his face that Sho couldn’t quite discern. On such nights, he didn’t enter the studio or try to stop Naoki. He stood by the door, in the shadows, closed his eyes and let his ears do the work instead. The notes, the progression, the melody —the unknown melody that Naoki poured himself into without any restraint— would then dig its claws into Sho’s heart and drag him into the world that only Naoki knew.
It was desolate. Like an eternal winter that longed for the first bloom of spring, a frosty dawn that longed for the first rays of sunlight, an island drifting in the middle of nowhere, anchorless.
Yet, at its core, it glowed with a strange warmth that resembled hope — the kind that could only be preserved by waiting an undecided amount of time. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. It was at this point that Sho’s resolve would weaken, but even so, he stayed glued to the same spot, unbeknownst to Naoki, soaking in every shade of melancholy that this melody had to offer.
He simply waited till Naoki tired himself to sleep. That’s when he opened the door, ever so quietly as to not wake him up. He walked up to Naoki and wiped the tears that lingered underneath his eyelashes, as well as the ones that had strayed to his cheek, his touch tender, and Naoki’s face cold.
“Your sound, your life, your breath— they all matter just as much as anyone else’s,” he’d whisper with a sigh, half-hoping that the words would someday reach him. And then, despite the ache spreading over his heart and whole body, Sho would simply pick Naoki up and tuck him back to bed, and then walk back to his room, resolved to say nothing of it in the next morning.
✿
Except for the rumours that float about here and there, Sho doesn't know what exactly had gone down between Naoki and Ichidai. What he does know, however, is that it had done its number on him. With the way Naoki acts, Sho knows by instinct that there is something more at play here than just ‘creative theft’, as Naoki had half-heartedly told him as he waved him off, asking him to focus on the song instead. Something much heavier had been weighing on his heart since long, and consequently his sound, despite his best efforts to conceal it.
Sho sees right through it. Anytime Naoki steals a glance at Sho and scribbles out a note in hesitation. Or when he once changed the progression of a tricky riff mid-rehearsal, abrupt, the uncertainty pervading his nerves clear as day. Treading carefully so as to not trample over Sho’s sound, to not overwhelm yet another craftsman because of his own unrestrained and unchecked ambition, at least that’s what Sho has to assume, based on the clues he’s gathered so far.
Sho decides he has had enough of it.
There’s a reason he is the guitarist he is— he’s worked with several bands, adapted to their sound, their musicality, and yet emerged with a sound of his own that remained untethered and unique even as he switched around from one band to another. He was sure that was why Naoki had sought him out in the first place. His sound seldom wavered. Even under the influence of the best bands, ones that could overwhelm you in an instant, Sho was like an anchor rooted to the same spot in the sea, refusing to budge even an inch.
And then, when he saw this young and youthful, sprightly and strange guy going off on the roadside keyboard as if it were his friend, emanating a radiance that was as spontaneous as it was skillful, as elegant as it was powerful, the wind singing and cutting through everything in its way and striking a chord in the very heart that rested within Sho’s ribcage — Sho felt his anchor sway just a little. A mix of emotions bubbled in his chest. Fear and fascination, enchantment and admiration, a bright spark, a surge of electricity coursing through his blood like no other.
This was it.
The missing something he’d never quite been able to find in anyone he’d worked with so far. Naoki had unlocked the key to a door in Sho’s heart that Sho hadn’t even realised existed. To see the same man— who once flew through the musical notes like a bird soaring through the sky — now willingly draw his wings in, too afraid to fly, is not what Sho wants to see.
When they have their next session, he props his guitar against the wall, and walks up to Naoki, who has just finished plugging in the keyboard, and hands the music sheet to him. Naoki grabs it and looks up at Sho. His eyes spell out the question even before his lips begin to move, “Is there a problem with it?”
“Not with this. With you.”
Well then, here goes.
“What do you..?” Naoki asks, his head tilting ever so slightly.
“You’re being too cautious, and that’s showing in the song too. This riff does not sound much different from the ones we’ve done so far, and I know it’s not that we can’t come up with more challenging ones,” Sho pauses a little, and looks at Naoki right in the eye, “Are you afraid?”
Naoki’s eyes widen for a split second, and his lips curve up in a small defeated smile as he breaks their eye contact and averts his gaze to the sheet in his hand.
“So you found out.”
“It’s not exactly rocket science.” Sho shrugs.
“But it’s fine, isn’t it? This kind of sound suits you as well. And you’ve gotten the hang of it too. Working with me, I mean.”
Sho can't help the exasperated sigh that escapes him despite himself. “That’s not the problem— it’s that our sound will become stagnant if we don’t try out different patterns. You’re a pro yourself, you know what I’m talking about.” Sho says, and the way Naoki’s eyes twinkle ever so slightly at the use of ‘our’ does not go unnoticed by him.
Naoki turns his gaze back to the ground, takes a shallow breath.
“We can take our time with that. You don’t have to hurry—”
“See, that’s the problem!” Sho shouts, “You don’t have to accommodate me at every single step of the way! The way you’re always so cautious, so wary, is messing with my head!” He blurts it all out. Embarrassment fills up his cheeks in a shade of bright red as he realises what he’s just done. But his eyes, firm and clearer than ever, don’t budge from Naoki.
“Then, what am I supposed to do?” Naoki finally breaks, “If I’m not careful, I could end up ruining you too. I can’t do that now, can I? I’ve already, I’ve already ruined so much, for so many people—”
“You are not ruining anything,” Sho interrupts, taking Naoki’s hands into his and giving them a gentle squeeze, “And you surely aren’t ruining me. I know that. If anything, you’ve given me reason to fall in love with this world of music again.”
“I could also end up being the reason you start hating it.”
One of Sho’s hands reaches up and rests on Naoki’s cheek, and he immediately notices how cold they are against his touch. The pad of his thumb gingerly brushes against the mole under Naoki’s eye.
“I won’t.” Sho says, “I couldn’t even if I tried.”
Naoki remains quiet. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes.
Without any warning, Sho pulls Naoki into a hug, “You’re allowed to have your doubts, but,” his voice almost a whisper as his lips part to let out the words he’s been yearning to say out loud, “I won’t let you shut me out. I’m in your corner now, and we’re doing this together, whether you like it or not.” He then adds in a rather sheepish tone, the slightest mirth coloring his words, “So, come at me with all you’ve got.”
The silence holding Naoki hostage does not break. Instead, he nods, burying his head into Sho’s shoulder. After a brief moment of respite, he slowly pulls away from the embrace, and his eyes, now devoid of any clouds and shining with a newfound spark, once again meet Sho’s. “Then,” He says in a voice that is almost close to his usual airy, velvety tone, “Do you want to work on this song together as we rebuild it?”
Sho smiles, “Of course,” and he can’t help the warmth that spreads through his chest and envelopes him whole. Perhaps he, too, is a fool, for no force in the world —not even Naoki himself— could make him love Naoki any less.