Chapter Text
Some say imitation is the best form of flattery. Others call it a sign of a good relationship. Akito thinks that it's all a load of bull.
Toya was striking person. Whether it was his looks, his voice, or his quiet intellect, Akito always had a lot to take in. This was especially true back when they had just started to work together, awkwardly singing alongside him without knowing that one day he would know the other better than the back of his hand.
One of the very first things he learned was that the tapping never stopped. It didn’t matter where they were, what time of day it was, or who was around. Toya. Was. Tapping. His fingers would always be gently pressing into the wood of the table, onto the coffee cup warming his hands, or whatever book was currently consuming his attention. He didn’t make any sound with it, movement too gentle for it to become an annoyance for those around him. Hell, Akito's almost sure that he doesn't even know himself that he's doing it.
And it took a while, but he eventually started to find the meaning in it. It was less a thoughtless movement and more akin to muscle memory, fingers perfectly curved into whatever was in front of him, as if he was subconsciously expecting the push of keys underneath his fingers. Akito knew only a glimpse of what harsh training his family put him through, but knew enough about the kind of mental gymnastics Toya had to do to whenever he tried to talk about them. Toya wasn’t the best at verbalizing his feelings about it, or anything in general, but every roadblock he hit with their music, performances, or even general life and relationship problems always held roots in the past. That much was clear to all four of them.
That's why the idea of bringing up the habit up to Toya makes Akito cringe. The thought of watching Toya take in another way he’s tied to the past that he so desperately wants to move on from… not a great idea.
And selfishly, there's another reason Akito refuses to ever bring attention to it. He's afraid that once Toya is aware of it, he'll stop it. When they first met, the taps were slow with hesitation, but precise when they did hit. He would stop and think a lot back then with everything he did. Stuck in a constant state of processing but pushing forward nonetheless. He never admitted to a state of nervousness before any Bad Dog performances, but his stuttering fingers, restarting patterns and uncharacteristic clumsiness betrayed him, only to be replaced by excited, steady beats mere seconds before they jumped on stage. Anything new for Toya was proceeded by fast, near frantic movements of his fingers.
These days though, his fingers are flying from one thing to the next. Tapping a fast and fluid beat, mixing between imitating the lyrics or the percussion of whatever song was on his mind. Akito only knew this last bit because of the time Toya failed to notice how his fingers drifted onto Akito. Riding the high of their last performance and caught in a conversation with the girls, he silently tapped out bits of their setlist on the arm Akito had around him.
Having that kind of insight into the mind of the least expressive people he knows, and that’s really saying something considering the kind of father Akito has, was a godsend. And maybe, he's hoping to see Toya happy and comfortable enough to let his hands drift back to Akito’s again.
—
Akito and An are alone at Weekend Garage when the long, long streak of never bringing light to Toya’s habit is nearly ruined. They’re sitting in a booth waiting for the other two to join when a noise makes him lift his head up from his phone.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Some of An’s long nails were clicking against the back of her phone as she stared off to the side, mulling over their conversation.
”I don't think it's necessarily a bad idea, but...."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She's staring out the window, eyes caught on someone down the road. Face blank, she continues to tap as she watches a woman, long brown hair swaying behind her as she walks further and further from the cafe. Akito watches her fingers bounce off her phone case, again and again.
"An?"
She turns to him, face still empty and fingers stilled.
"An? You were saying?"
"Oh," she blinks back to life, "Something about the setlist has me feeling iffy. I'm not sure why." She turns back to her phone, and then double takes at him. "And what's with that dumb look?"
He's not sure what kind of expression he's making, but it's probably not a pleasant one. An and Kohane had never mentioned Toya’s tapping, which he was endlessly grateful for. If it was a mix of coming to the same conclusions Akito did, simply not caring, or even not noticing, it didn’t matter as long as they didn’t point it out. An developing the same habit could throw a wrench in the works of it all. He opens his mouth to tell her off right as Toya walks in.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
She raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t interrogate. It was just a few taps, he thinks. And she's stopped now. Maybe it won’t be a problem.
—
It’s definitely a problem. This is the third time this week they’re all together, and An cannot stop tapping.
They're all doing homework in Crase Cafe, something rather rare for them due to their varying styles of study. Poor Kohane is the type who needs to be alone to retain anything, while An needs someone there to push her to focus. She’s working on a math problem now, one that Akito hasn't done and honestly might not do at all, when her fingers start to drum on the textbook in front of her.
He hates to admit that it’s clear that she doesn’t know she’s doing it. She always been the type to be on the move, shaking her foot to some unheard beat, swaying her head side to side, anything. Only now has she focused all that energy into simple, yet loud, taps. It looked clumsier compared to the graceful movements of Toya’s longer fingers, but it held a power that made sharp sounds. As annoying as it was, it was also slightly endearing. It was kind of like those few moments when he had found her quietly practicing choreo in their usual hangout spots, usually oblivious to anyone around her.
That warmth in his chest is spoiled by the idea that any minute now someone will point it out and then point to Toya’s habit. That fear is nearly confirmed when he sees Kohane’s head whip up to An, finally about to tell her off for the sound. Then he sees her pause. She looks at Toya. She looks at An. Back and forth.
An is still drumming on the textbook while a glance over at Toya shows him tapping on the pencil he's holding in between sentences he's writing. So utterly absorbed in their own things, they can’t even see themselves mirroring each other, let alone notice the fact that they seem to be falling into the same rhythm.
Finally, Kohane turns to him. He rarely sees her so annoyed, but she’s serious when it comes to studying and her focus getting interrupted. She tilts her head to them quickly with her eyebrow raised as if saying “Are you seeing these bozos?” The idea of her saying that startles a laugh out of him. He tries to suppress it with a cough at the last second and gets a glare from both An and Toya for his efforts.
After a threat from Toya about supplementary classes and missed performances, highlighted by An taunting him, he turns to Kohane to see her smiling to herself, head ducked back into her homework.
He was definitely overthinking it. It’ll be fine.
”Shirashi, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Toya begins. “Is there a particular reason you are tapping so much lately?”
”Oh, uhhh, I kinda broke my headphones recently."
"Again?" Kohane asks, shocked.
"It wasn't my fault this time!" An defends herself, cheeks flushed. She's definitely lying. "But I'm getting kinda of jittery without them while I wait for my new ones to come in. Sorry if the noise was bothering you. I'm not sure how you do it so silently."
”Do what silently?”
Their lovely conversation is interrupted by Akito rudely slamming his head to the table in defeat.