Chapter Text
Looking back for Mahiro it was one of those moments that have a before and after. Like time fractured beyond recognition the moment he was given the news. Like there would always be a line there he would never be able to erase again sending shockwaves out into every moment after it.
He’d been mixing a bit of Toya’s singing. Why he’d chosen that and not something mechanical and pure he couldn’t say except something about having Toya’s voice in his ears calmed him. And while concerts were part of the lifestyle of being a musician they always felt straining for him. Like they asked a little more than he could give. He hadn’t performed before Toya. Not like he did with him. He’d posted his music. Done smaller sets where he felt he could almost hide onstage. Now Toya was always at the front taking the brunt of the energy from the crowd. Giving them that energy back tenfold in a way Mahiro never could. Shielding him from the overstimulation of all those eyes looking at him. Because he knew those eyes were on Toya. Even his own were on the occasion he looked up from his gear. Toya drew the eye in a way you couldn’t explain. Like lightning at night. Crackling and blinding. Demanding your attention.
When he’d first been informed Toya was late he knew it wasn’t the first time Toya was late for something. Living with Toya meant he knew intimately how he worked day to day. How if his attention was drawn elsewhere he could stray from the task at hand and seemingly forget it in his desire to solve whatever had struck him. This was true of many things but rarely their music. Music was singular in the way it held Toya's focus. He fought for his music endlessly and with a brute force and determination given to nothing else. Nothing except maybe Fujitani Naoki. Which was what sowed the seed of worry in Mahiro at that moment. Toya had wanted this faceoff for years. Had wanted to force Fujitani to take him and his musical talent seriously. Had wanted to finally somehow reach him in this eternal race to catch up to his brother. To hold his attention. Mahiro had sensed it being on Toya's mind for days before the concert. Had watched him clasp and unclasp his left hand and drift off to places Mahiro couldn’t follow. Had felt the crackling energy in the study rise to a height that made every moment feel loaded with something.
Which was why it made no sense for him to not be here now. And while Mahiro had learned that he didn’t always understand Toya’s actions, for that they were simply too different, he was sure this wasn’t right. That Toya would make sure to be here for this no matter what. Unless he couldn’t. It was something that had lived on the edge of Mahiro’s mind for a while. How Toya seemed to burn so brightly in a way that almost seemed to taunt disaster and misfortune. Images of a crashed black muscle car, and Toya’s body immobile came to him. And a sudden feeling that maybe they shouldn’t have split up. Something they mostly did before concerts to allow each other to get in the right headspace. So Mahiro could center himself quietly and Toya could hype himself up to the level an OVER CHROME performance demanded.
Mahiro had grabbed his phone and called Toya. A small sigh had escaped him he’d later regret. Maybe as a way of normalizing something that seemed increasingly wrong to his system. Out of the normal order that existed clearly in their lives despite the spontaneity and eternal motion that seemed such important parts of Toya’s person. The call was unanswered. This happened regularly and wasn’t in itself cause for alarm. But coupled with his already mounting anxiety it gained significance. Mahiro called again and knew he’d most likely receive some comment for it later. Most likely with Toya up in his space in that way that always made him unsteady somehow. He hoped he would. Wished for it in that moment. A second call went unanswered and Mahiro once again heard the automated response Toya had recorded that he could probably recite by heart at this point. ‘Why are you calling? I’m busy. Don’t you have something else to do?’
When the same staff member at that moment came back and informed him that a stabbing had been reported on the car park level of the venue, something inside Mahiro stopped for a second. Like the impact of what he knew could be coming had knocked the air out of his body. Not in the heart racing anticipatory way Toya usually managed, but a way that froze everything for a second around him and made small fractures appear inside him. Giving light to feelings inside him he’d kept firmly locked away. Sending memories running through his mind. Of a sneering mouth, so unexpectedly soft in its firmness when pressed to his own. A voice so strong it had bridged the gap Mahiro had created between other people and his music. And a hand placing Mahiro’s around his throat trusting him to not apply pressure.
And Mahiro, who usually spent so much time on his actions that he both moved and spoke slower than most people around him ran. Away from the equipment that created his sound and grounded him and which he fiercely protected because of this and towards the person who’d altered him in ways he didn’t understand while letting him stay the same and with whom he and his music was now bound irrevocably.