Absolute Beginners
Title: Absolute Beginners
Rating: PG (for a few curse words)
Characters/Pairings: Ninomiya Kazunari/Aiba Masaki
Summary: Even if Aiba's content with music as a hobby, not a career, Nino thinks he'll be able to wiggle his way in and maybe change that a bit.
Notes/Warnings: For littlealex who was kind enough to donate to help_japan. Many apologies for the delay. This story is based in her universe indiebandarashi, which is exactly what it sounds like - I decided to write an origin story in this universe before their band starts that explains a bit more about how Nino and Aiba met during college. Alex, I hope this is a good addition to your universe, and for other readers, I think you should be able to follow along :)
It's a week before Nino sees Aiba Masaki again.
Though it was their second actual meeting in the university cafeteria the other day, Aiba hadn't remembered him. It doesn't really offend Nino - the day they'd actually met had been orientation day, and the campus had been overrun with clubs trying to gain new recruits. So he'll happily stick with the idea that the cafeteria was his and Aiba's second chance.
They'd spent the better part of the afternoon talking shop - that is to say, music. Nino considers himself a musician. Sure, he's eighteen, just out of high school and in that "what the hell am I doing?" stage, but he just knows, deep down, that his lyrics and his compositions are going to get him somewhere someday.
Aiba, however, doesn't consider himself a musician, and Nino's okay with that. Because Aiba seems malleable, flexible. He can tell from the way Aiba had relented without a fuss when Nino helped himself to fries off of his cafeteria tray, even though they'd only just met. He can tell from the way Aiba clearly enjoyed talking about being in the Musicians Club. Even if Aiba's content with music as a hobby, not a career, Nino thinks he'll be able to wiggle his way in and maybe change that a bit.
So the next time they meet, Nino's ditching Intro to Microeconomics, and Aiba's cutting across the quad in hopes of making it to whatever class he's extremely late for. Aiba slows down, sweating like it's the dead of summer instead of early May. "I'm so not going to make it," Aiba wheezes, adjusting his backpack. "Well, whatever, it's a big lecture and they post the notes online."
Nino falls into step with him on the quad concrete. Aiba may have longer legs, but he's worn out and it lets Nino keep pace with him. "Shameful. Already skipping class," he chides Aiba. "Take me to lunch?"
Aiba wipes his brow and laughs. "What? You think I've got money?"
But Aiba does have money, and they find their way off campus to a hole in the wall joint where he can get a hamburger and his new friend can get two. They sit side by side at the end of the busy counter, the heat from the kitchen making Aiba sweat more inside than he had outside.
"So this Musicians Club," Nino says while Aiba's jabbing the fork into his hamburger, swishing it around in the sauce on his plate until it's thoroughly coated. "Do you guys have gigs or what?"
Aiba shakes his head and talks around his food. Nino doesn't mind - it wouldn't be charming on anyone else, but since he thinks Aiba's kind of cute in a goofy sort of way, it's okay. "Gigs? Nah, we mostly just..." Hamburger ends up spraying from Aiba's mouth. "...jam for a while. Which is kind of annoying when just the accordion guy and the super tall girl with the trumpet show up."
"I see."
"It's kind of a lame club that way," Aiba admits. "Mostly people who couldn't cut it in the orchestra or marching band."
"You know," Nino tells him. "You're not really convincing me to sign up here."
"Oh, did you want to? If it's me and you against accordion guy..."
Nino laughs, cutting himself another bite with his knife and fork. "Maybe you and I should just play sometime. Piano and guitar's better than guitar and accordion."
They finish their meal, and Aiba pays for the whole thing without complaint. They agree to meet up in Aiba's dorm in a few days since there's a piano in the basement lounge, and the soundproofing's good enough if Nino brings his guitar. It's only taken three meetings (two official) to hook Aiba Masaki - now, he wonders, how long will it take to reel him in all the way?
--
It takes Aiba a while to close his mouth after Nino finishes playing. It's just after midnight, and they've managed to get the basement lounge to themselves. Nino's gone through five songs in a row without a break, all his favorites out of his current collection. Nino had listened to Aiba play first - since Aiba's tried to be a jack of all trades, his piano is kind of sloppy, not very controlled. But there's a sense of fun to the way he plays - something that would definitely complement Nino's own style.
"Nino," Aiba says, sitting on the piano bench with his elbows back against the keys. "Nino, you're really good!"
He shrugs. "I'm okay."
Aiba shakes his head. "Why the hell would you want to be in the Musicians Club when you could just start your own band?"
He sets the guitar back in his case, fingers already quivering a bit with the desire to keep playing. "Well, a band of one isn't really a band at all. And I'm just a guy with an acoustic guitar. It's not like I've got a studio space or any sort of equipment. I mean, I suppose I could try selling songs, but then they're not mine any more. If I turned on the radio one day and heard someone else singing it, someone else playing it, it would be weird."
Aiba leans forward, making the piano bench creak. "Well, what if I told you I have connections?"
Nino laughs. "Bullshit."
"Hey, I haven't even explained yet," Aiba protests. "But really, it's nothing much, but my friend's really into recording stuff on his computer. He uploads it to the web. If I had to be honest, he's not that good, but if you went that route..."
Nino has a computer, too. Hell, he's got dozens of mp3s on his hard drive right now wasting space. "How into computers is he? Any jackass can record himself."
Aiba just smiles.
--
The next week, Nino's a bit taken aback when he meets Aiba's friends. Yokoyama is kind of noisy and weird, but his tech set-up is incredible. While Nino usually sits on his bed with the laptop open and internal mic on so it can pick up his strumming, an entire room of Yoko's off-campus apartment is devoted to recording music. He and his roommate Murakami record a podcast about the local music scene every week that is apparently famous in their oddball corner of the Internet.
Their music, however, has not received as much attention as the podcast and for good reason. Aiba nearly dies laughing as Yoko plays one of his and Murakami's duets as an example, but Nino listens politely. Neither of them have voices or skills to write home about, but the sound quality is just as good if not better than what popular bands put up online. There's real production value here, and even though Yoko and Murakami have to share a bedroom because of it, it's amazing how they've managed to get all the expensive recording equipment inside the room.
The song dies down, and Aiba nearly falls into Nino's lap he's laughing so hard. His laughter is a little mean, but Nino's more focused on the way Aiba's grabbing onto him. "Yokocho, Yokocho, seriously. The line about, the hell was it, my love for you is sizzling like okonomiyaki? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"
"Oi," Murakami complains, detangling himself from a mass of wires to smack Aiba on the head. "Who asked you?"
Yoko looks a bit indignant as he stops the track. "I write my lyrics from the heart."
Aiba, undeterred, keeps laughing until his arm settles around Nino's shoulder comfortably while they sit side by side on the cheap plastic "guest" chairs set up in the recording room. "I think you need to stick to what you're good at, okay? Not everyone can write like Nino here. He's a genius."
Murakami snorts. "Alright then, new guy. Impress me."
Aiba's arm is still around him, and Nino likes the almost possessiveness of it, but he's here to see how good he can sound with better equipment. He moves reluctantly, feeling Aiba's hand slip away. Aiba's friends busy themselves with getting things ready, and Nino makes sure his guitar is perfect. He'd just changed the strings that morning, and the other three sit back and listen.
When he's done with his newest creation, a song he hasn't even let Aiba hear yet, he's met by three equally dumbfounded faces.
"Okay," Murakami says, eyes scanning the computer screen in front of him to play the track back. "That was definitely better than sizzling food love."
"Hey! Traitor!" Yoko whines. The pair of them fiddle around with the recording software while Aiba leans close.
"That one was new."
"It was," Nino admits.
"You're ridiculous."
He looks up, seeing a strange sort of awe crossing Aiba's features. "Ridiculous?"
Aiba looks away. "I definitely don't think you should join the Musicians Club. You're too good. You're so good it's ridiculous."
"That wasn't the full song anyhow." He sees Aiba perk a bit at that. "I wrote piano music for it too. It's meant to have both."
"Oh?"
"Buy me dinner, and maybe I'll let you see what I wrote."
Yokoyama and Murakami don't even look up from their music tweaking as Aiba's ears turn red. "I'd like that actually. That is, if you mean..."
"Yes, it means I want your piano and my guitar. They can sizzle together like okonomiyaki."
Aiba snorts, shaking his head. "Me? But I'm sloppy."
He smiles. "Aiba-chan," he says, and even though they haven't known each other so long, it feels right. "Don't worry about it. I wrote it for a sloppy player."
--
By the time they get back to Nino's dorm room, they're full of ramen. He fumbles with the adapter, plugging the keyboard into the wall and letting the instrument lay across their laps as he joins Aiba on the bed. Aiba arranges the sheet music and plugs in a pair of headphones so they don't wake anyone else up on the floor.
Aiba's long, clumsy fingers drift over the keys, making that empty plastic tapping sound. Nino watches his fingers, the veins on the tops of his tanned hands, the way his eyes linger on the sheet music as he slowly plays through the unfamiliar tune.
Even though Nino can't hear it, he's never been able to watch someone else play something he's written before. And though he didn't think he could ever tolerate giving up control of his creation, seeing the way Aiba pauses after an error and immediately tries again is not something he'll soon forget. A stranger isn't playing Nino's music for a profit - it's Aiba who's playing his music. Aiba's breathy voice is humming along quietly to the tune Nino's written, and there's an odd sort of perfection to this moment.
When Aiba's fingers still and he slides the headphones down to his neck with an easy smile, Nino knows two things. First, he knows that he's not just Ninomiya Kazunari, solo musician. Now he's part of a duo. And second, Nino realizes that he likes Aiba. He likes Aiba a great deal.
"Let me try again?" Aiba says, taking the headphones off and roughly clamping them over Nino's own ears. He plays again. This time Nino closes his eyes, hearing the very same tune he'd composed and played on the very same keyboard only a short time ago. But it's different. It's as though Aiba clearly remembers the sound of Nino's guitar in the makeshift studio earlier that day and has adapted the piano part to match even better than Nino had envisioned. He starts to sing the lyrics quietly, knowing that Aiba can hear him.
He knows in principle that love and the music business can be a dangerous combo. There's external complications, like Ono Yoko and The Beatles. There's internal complications, like within Fleetwood Mac. If things don't work out in personal lives, it affects the music. It might stop the music entirely. So it makes a lot of sense to want Aiba in his band, but does it make sense to want Aiba in his bed, too?
When he opens his eyes, Aiba is expectant, nervous. Waiting for Nino's approval. He licks his lips in anticipation, and Nino has to look away.
"I think we need to record this. It's going to sound amazing," Nino says, removing the headphones and getting off of the bed. "Work something out with those weirdos."
Aiba doesn't seem to have noticed Nino's newfound distress. He eagerly sets the keyboard down and hops to the floor. "This is going to be awesome. Do you really want me to record with you? I mean, it won't hurt my feelings if you want to find another keyboard player."
Except Nino knows it will hurt Aiba's feelings. He'd go back to the Musicians Club with the accordion guy. "I already said you're fine. I wrote this part for you, idiot."
Aiba laughs. "Okay, I just wanted to be sure." He's stumbling around a bit, looking for his windbreaker. "I'll make all the arrangements. They're going to be so pissed when we get famous."
"Yeah, we'll see about that."
"Well," Aiba says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'll give you a call later."
Nino could ask him to stay, ask him to play again, but he doesn't dare. "Have a good night, Aiba-chan."
--
The semester catches up with them, and classes mostly keep him and Aiba apart. Maybe it's for the best, Nino thinks. He can look to Aiba as a potential future bandmate, let the initial crush he's confusing with something more become a memory. He tries to forget how it had felt to have Aiba at his side, playing his music. At least being apart gives him time to write more songs, to make sure that the ones they do end up recording are as perfect as they're going to be.
He gets an embarrassingly apologetic phone call from Aiba the first week of summer break, informing him that Murakami and Yokoyama got a few new bells and whistles for their home studio. Would now be okay to record? If Nino's still interested?
He practices the guitar portion until his fingers ache. His first recording session with someone else, and he hates how nervous he is. Music is everything to him, so this shouldn't be scary. Maybe it's something else.
In four takes, he and Aiba lay down the first version of Sleep to Twelve, and when Aiba looks up at him from the keyboard, positively beaming, Nino realizes that his feelings for Aiba are stronger than ever.
--
Nino thinks that maybe the reason he's so good at music is because it's an indoor activity. But Aiba, despite his musical interests, is definitely one for outdoor activities. He spends the rest of the summer avoiding every Aiba invitation that doesn't involve them playing music together, but the next term is about to start and he slips up, finally agreeing to go to the beach with Aiba.
Aiba's parents run a Chinese restaurant in Chiba, and one of their former busboys, Yamaguchi Tatsuya, loves to surf. Even though he's a few years older, he and Aiba are good friends, so he and Nino take the train east to the beach where Yamaguchi has a house. More like a shack, Nino realizes when they arrive.
It's ungodly hot, and Nino shows his protesting spirit by wearing a hat and a thin, but long-sleeved button down. As soon as they reach the sand, Aiba's already stripped down to his swim trunks and hauling along a surfboard borrowed from his older friend.
"You're sure you're not getting in the water? You're like a grandma," Aiba complains as Nino arranges himself on a blanket under one of the rental umbrellas.
"Isn't it enough that you got me here?" he grumbles, longing to be back in the nice, air-conditioned studio where he and Aiba can just be musicians instead of something Nino can't truly explain. To anyone else at the beach, he and Aiba appear to be friends, but Nino's never really wanted to do things with his friends that he wants to do with Aiba.
"Suit yourself!" Aiba says as he and his friend hit the water. It's incredibly boring watching them both wade out and hop onto the boards, catch a wave, repeat ad nauseam. But Aiba's happy, smiling and laughing with Yamaguchi. Nino wonders if starting a band with Aiba could have consequences. If they're in the studio or on tour (assuming they achieve some measure of fame), would Aiba still get to do the things he enjoys? Nino's not sure he wants to trap him that way.
When Aiba finally emerges from the water to take a break, he collapses in the sand beside Nino's blanket, sighing in contentment. It's hard not to stare at Aiba's soaking wet hair and the beads of water all over his back and legs as he lays on his stomach. Yamaguchi settles down at Nino's other side.
"Have fun?" Nino asks, wondering if it's time to go home yet.
"Mmm," is all Aiba says. He's going to burn up, so Nino adjusts the umbrella a bit to better cover all three of them. Within minutes, Aiba's deep into a cat nap, and Yamaguchi wants to chat.
"Aiba-chan says you guys are recording music together?"
"Yeah, just a few songs. He's not bad. The future's kind of up in the air at this point."
"When I was your age, I was in a band, too." Nino's not sure he wants to listen to what went wrong - it's clear that the guy isn't in a band now, and he gets enough of an earful from his mom when he says that maybe university isn't right for him and music is.
"Oh? What happened?" Nino asks anyway because it's what he's supposed to do.
"The chemistry was off," Yamaguchi admits. "I'd been in another band with some friends, just bullshitting and playing out of our garage, but I ditched them and ended up with these other guys because I thought they had a better shot. They were all talented, ridiculously talented. The songs were good, the playing was good, but we didn't really like each other."
Nino brings his legs up so he can rest his head on his knees. "Do you have to like each other? Can't the music speak for itself?"
Yamaguchi shakes his head. "No way. Not a chance. Because if you don't have that chemistry when you play together, you're better off not playing at all. It was empty, our music. I may have played in a garage with those other guys, and we might never have left the garage, but we liked each other. We got along, and even if it wasn't perfect, it was still better. The music had heart."
"So mediocrity with people you love is better than success with strangers?"
"I guess you could say that, yeah. So I mean, that kid's a pain in the ass," Yamaguchi says, nodding his head in the sleeping Aiba's direction, "but I think if you keep him around, you'll do okay. I doubt you'd be mediocre, not with the way Masaki says you play and write."
"Small band with just two idiots though."
Yamaguchi opens the cooler they brought along and pulls out a beer, wrenching open the top. "Well, you found one idiot. All you've gotta do is find a few more."
"And how do I do that? It's not like collecting Pokemon or something."
"I think you'll just know."
They eventually rouse Aiba from his nap, and Yamaguchi's nice enough to drive them back. He's willing to take Nino all the way back into Tokyo, but he says it's fine to be dropped off at Aiba's place. In a few more weeks they'll be back in the dorms for second term, but Nino's not so sure he's going to be a very attentive student. He has idiots to scout for.
And as for the idiot he's already scouted, he follows Aiba around to the back of his house. His parents are out of town visiting the grandparents, and his brother's off with a school group, so they sit in Aiba's small backyard with beers smuggled from the fridge and Aiba's out-of-tune guitar.
Maybe this is what being a musician really is, Nino realizes as he strums and listens to Aiba's strangely endearing singing voice as he plays anime theme songs from their childhood. He plays until Aiba's voice is hoarse, and the sky turns pitch black. Maybe they'll need a different lead singer so Nino can focus on the music and his own playing. He wonders what Sleep to Twelve might sound like with a knockout lead vocal. With a drummer and bass.
"You want to stay over? Train's going to stop running in an hour," Aiba says as they fold up the lawn chairs and put them back in the shed.
He nods, following Aiba into the house. Nino remembers his conversation at the beach, how Yamaguchi had left people he'd loved for people he thought would get him places. He realizes that even if his feelings for Aiba could become a problem down the road, it doesn't really matter. Since they've met, AIba's made him happy. Aiba cares about the music. And in his mind, those two things are equally important.
Aiba's by the refrigerator, opening the door, and the air conditioning switches on in the other room with a sudden hum. "Did you want anything else to drink?"
"Do you like me?" Nino asks bluntly, honestly.
Aiba turns, closing the door without grabbing anything and leaning back against it. "What?"
"I think we can make good music together. I think we should be a band. Not just people who record in some friend's apartment, but a real band. With a name and a set list and maybe groupies if we're lucky someday."
"There's just two of us."
"Well, leave that part to me then."
"Okay," Aiba says, scratching the back of his neck. His t-shirt rides up as he does so, and Nino takes a deep breath. "Wait, what does this have to do with the first question?"
"I just want to put this out there, for the sake of full disclosure. I want to play music with you, Aiba-chan. But I also need you to know that I like you. And if that's going to be a problem or if it's going to be weird, then I want you to tell me now so I can work on not liking you. For the sake of the music, I mean."
It's an agonizing few seconds before Aiba looks down, and Nino waits to be thoroughly rejected.
Instead, Aiba's hand finds his wrist, the long fingers that Nino hopes will play his songs forever wrapping around tightly. "You don't have to worry," Aiba says, leaning forward until their mouths are only inches apart. His voice is less playful than usual. "It's definitely not weird."
"It's not, huh?" Nino closes the distance, having to tilt his neck a bit since Aiba's taller and just mean enough not to lean down for him. They kiss in the Aiba family kitchen, not yet twenty and not yet famous. But they've got plenty of time for that anyhow.
Nino just knows, deep down, that his lyrics and his compositions are going to get him somewhere someday. It may not be far, but as long as he finds the right people to come along with him, the journey should be the fun part.
Rating: PG (for a few curse words)
Characters/Pairings: Ninomiya Kazunari/Aiba Masaki
Summary: Even if Aiba's content with music as a hobby, not a career, Nino thinks he'll be able to wiggle his way in and maybe change that a bit.
Notes/Warnings: For littlealex who was kind enough to donate to help_japan. Many apologies for the delay. This story is based in her universe indiebandarashi, which is exactly what it sounds like - I decided to write an origin story in this universe before their band starts that explains a bit more about how Nino and Aiba met during college. Alex, I hope this is a good addition to your universe, and for other readers, I think you should be able to follow along :)
It's a week before Nino sees Aiba Masaki again.
Though it was their second actual meeting in the university cafeteria the other day, Aiba hadn't remembered him. It doesn't really offend Nino - the day they'd actually met had been orientation day, and the campus had been overrun with clubs trying to gain new recruits. So he'll happily stick with the idea that the cafeteria was his and Aiba's second chance.
They'd spent the better part of the afternoon talking shop - that is to say, music. Nino considers himself a musician. Sure, he's eighteen, just out of high school and in that "what the hell am I doing?" stage, but he just knows, deep down, that his lyrics and his compositions are going to get him somewhere someday.
Aiba, however, doesn't consider himself a musician, and Nino's okay with that. Because Aiba seems malleable, flexible. He can tell from the way Aiba had relented without a fuss when Nino helped himself to fries off of his cafeteria tray, even though they'd only just met. He can tell from the way Aiba clearly enjoyed talking about being in the Musicians Club. Even if Aiba's content with music as a hobby, not a career, Nino thinks he'll be able to wiggle his way in and maybe change that a bit.
So the next time they meet, Nino's ditching Intro to Microeconomics, and Aiba's cutting across the quad in hopes of making it to whatever class he's extremely late for. Aiba slows down, sweating like it's the dead of summer instead of early May. "I'm so not going to make it," Aiba wheezes, adjusting his backpack. "Well, whatever, it's a big lecture and they post the notes online."
Nino falls into step with him on the quad concrete. Aiba may have longer legs, but he's worn out and it lets Nino keep pace with him. "Shameful. Already skipping class," he chides Aiba. "Take me to lunch?"
Aiba wipes his brow and laughs. "What? You think I've got money?"
But Aiba does have money, and they find their way off campus to a hole in the wall joint where he can get a hamburger and his new friend can get two. They sit side by side at the end of the busy counter, the heat from the kitchen making Aiba sweat more inside than he had outside.
"So this Musicians Club," Nino says while Aiba's jabbing the fork into his hamburger, swishing it around in the sauce on his plate until it's thoroughly coated. "Do you guys have gigs or what?"
Aiba shakes his head and talks around his food. Nino doesn't mind - it wouldn't be charming on anyone else, but since he thinks Aiba's kind of cute in a goofy sort of way, it's okay. "Gigs? Nah, we mostly just..." Hamburger ends up spraying from Aiba's mouth. "...jam for a while. Which is kind of annoying when just the accordion guy and the super tall girl with the trumpet show up."
"I see."
"It's kind of a lame club that way," Aiba admits. "Mostly people who couldn't cut it in the orchestra or marching band."
"You know," Nino tells him. "You're not really convincing me to sign up here."
"Oh, did you want to? If it's me and you against accordion guy..."
Nino laughs, cutting himself another bite with his knife and fork. "Maybe you and I should just play sometime. Piano and guitar's better than guitar and accordion."
They finish their meal, and Aiba pays for the whole thing without complaint. They agree to meet up in Aiba's dorm in a few days since there's a piano in the basement lounge, and the soundproofing's good enough if Nino brings his guitar. It's only taken three meetings (two official) to hook Aiba Masaki - now, he wonders, how long will it take to reel him in all the way?
--
It takes Aiba a while to close his mouth after Nino finishes playing. It's just after midnight, and they've managed to get the basement lounge to themselves. Nino's gone through five songs in a row without a break, all his favorites out of his current collection. Nino had listened to Aiba play first - since Aiba's tried to be a jack of all trades, his piano is kind of sloppy, not very controlled. But there's a sense of fun to the way he plays - something that would definitely complement Nino's own style.
"Nino," Aiba says, sitting on the piano bench with his elbows back against the keys. "Nino, you're really good!"
He shrugs. "I'm okay."
Aiba shakes his head. "Why the hell would you want to be in the Musicians Club when you could just start your own band?"
He sets the guitar back in his case, fingers already quivering a bit with the desire to keep playing. "Well, a band of one isn't really a band at all. And I'm just a guy with an acoustic guitar. It's not like I've got a studio space or any sort of equipment. I mean, I suppose I could try selling songs, but then they're not mine any more. If I turned on the radio one day and heard someone else singing it, someone else playing it, it would be weird."
Aiba leans forward, making the piano bench creak. "Well, what if I told you I have connections?"
Nino laughs. "Bullshit."
"Hey, I haven't even explained yet," Aiba protests. "But really, it's nothing much, but my friend's really into recording stuff on his computer. He uploads it to the web. If I had to be honest, he's not that good, but if you went that route..."
Nino has a computer, too. Hell, he's got dozens of mp3s on his hard drive right now wasting space. "How into computers is he? Any jackass can record himself."
Aiba just smiles.
--
The next week, Nino's a bit taken aback when he meets Aiba's friends. Yokoyama is kind of noisy and weird, but his tech set-up is incredible. While Nino usually sits on his bed with the laptop open and internal mic on so it can pick up his strumming, an entire room of Yoko's off-campus apartment is devoted to recording music. He and his roommate Murakami record a podcast about the local music scene every week that is apparently famous in their oddball corner of the Internet.
Their music, however, has not received as much attention as the podcast and for good reason. Aiba nearly dies laughing as Yoko plays one of his and Murakami's duets as an example, but Nino listens politely. Neither of them have voices or skills to write home about, but the sound quality is just as good if not better than what popular bands put up online. There's real production value here, and even though Yoko and Murakami have to share a bedroom because of it, it's amazing how they've managed to get all the expensive recording equipment inside the room.
The song dies down, and Aiba nearly falls into Nino's lap he's laughing so hard. His laughter is a little mean, but Nino's more focused on the way Aiba's grabbing onto him. "Yokocho, Yokocho, seriously. The line about, the hell was it, my love for you is sizzling like okonomiyaki? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"
"Oi," Murakami complains, detangling himself from a mass of wires to smack Aiba on the head. "Who asked you?"
Yoko looks a bit indignant as he stops the track. "I write my lyrics from the heart."
Aiba, undeterred, keeps laughing until his arm settles around Nino's shoulder comfortably while they sit side by side on the cheap plastic "guest" chairs set up in the recording room. "I think you need to stick to what you're good at, okay? Not everyone can write like Nino here. He's a genius."
Murakami snorts. "Alright then, new guy. Impress me."
Aiba's arm is still around him, and Nino likes the almost possessiveness of it, but he's here to see how good he can sound with better equipment. He moves reluctantly, feeling Aiba's hand slip away. Aiba's friends busy themselves with getting things ready, and Nino makes sure his guitar is perfect. He'd just changed the strings that morning, and the other three sit back and listen.
When he's done with his newest creation, a song he hasn't even let Aiba hear yet, he's met by three equally dumbfounded faces.
"Okay," Murakami says, eyes scanning the computer screen in front of him to play the track back. "That was definitely better than sizzling food love."
"Hey! Traitor!" Yoko whines. The pair of them fiddle around with the recording software while Aiba leans close.
"That one was new."
"It was," Nino admits.
"You're ridiculous."
He looks up, seeing a strange sort of awe crossing Aiba's features. "Ridiculous?"
Aiba looks away. "I definitely don't think you should join the Musicians Club. You're too good. You're so good it's ridiculous."
"That wasn't the full song anyhow." He sees Aiba perk a bit at that. "I wrote piano music for it too. It's meant to have both."
"Oh?"
"Buy me dinner, and maybe I'll let you see what I wrote."
Yokoyama and Murakami don't even look up from their music tweaking as Aiba's ears turn red. "I'd like that actually. That is, if you mean..."
"Yes, it means I want your piano and my guitar. They can sizzle together like okonomiyaki."
Aiba snorts, shaking his head. "Me? But I'm sloppy."
He smiles. "Aiba-chan," he says, and even though they haven't known each other so long, it feels right. "Don't worry about it. I wrote it for a sloppy player."
--
By the time they get back to Nino's dorm room, they're full of ramen. He fumbles with the adapter, plugging the keyboard into the wall and letting the instrument lay across their laps as he joins Aiba on the bed. Aiba arranges the sheet music and plugs in a pair of headphones so they don't wake anyone else up on the floor.
Aiba's long, clumsy fingers drift over the keys, making that empty plastic tapping sound. Nino watches his fingers, the veins on the tops of his tanned hands, the way his eyes linger on the sheet music as he slowly plays through the unfamiliar tune.
Even though Nino can't hear it, he's never been able to watch someone else play something he's written before. And though he didn't think he could ever tolerate giving up control of his creation, seeing the way Aiba pauses after an error and immediately tries again is not something he'll soon forget. A stranger isn't playing Nino's music for a profit - it's Aiba who's playing his music. Aiba's breathy voice is humming along quietly to the tune Nino's written, and there's an odd sort of perfection to this moment.
When Aiba's fingers still and he slides the headphones down to his neck with an easy smile, Nino knows two things. First, he knows that he's not just Ninomiya Kazunari, solo musician. Now he's part of a duo. And second, Nino realizes that he likes Aiba. He likes Aiba a great deal.
"Let me try again?" Aiba says, taking the headphones off and roughly clamping them over Nino's own ears. He plays again. This time Nino closes his eyes, hearing the very same tune he'd composed and played on the very same keyboard only a short time ago. But it's different. It's as though Aiba clearly remembers the sound of Nino's guitar in the makeshift studio earlier that day and has adapted the piano part to match even better than Nino had envisioned. He starts to sing the lyrics quietly, knowing that Aiba can hear him.
He knows in principle that love and the music business can be a dangerous combo. There's external complications, like Ono Yoko and The Beatles. There's internal complications, like within Fleetwood Mac. If things don't work out in personal lives, it affects the music. It might stop the music entirely. So it makes a lot of sense to want Aiba in his band, but does it make sense to want Aiba in his bed, too?
When he opens his eyes, Aiba is expectant, nervous. Waiting for Nino's approval. He licks his lips in anticipation, and Nino has to look away.
"I think we need to record this. It's going to sound amazing," Nino says, removing the headphones and getting off of the bed. "Work something out with those weirdos."
Aiba doesn't seem to have noticed Nino's newfound distress. He eagerly sets the keyboard down and hops to the floor. "This is going to be awesome. Do you really want me to record with you? I mean, it won't hurt my feelings if you want to find another keyboard player."
Except Nino knows it will hurt Aiba's feelings. He'd go back to the Musicians Club with the accordion guy. "I already said you're fine. I wrote this part for you, idiot."
Aiba laughs. "Okay, I just wanted to be sure." He's stumbling around a bit, looking for his windbreaker. "I'll make all the arrangements. They're going to be so pissed when we get famous."
"Yeah, we'll see about that."
"Well," Aiba says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'll give you a call later."
Nino could ask him to stay, ask him to play again, but he doesn't dare. "Have a good night, Aiba-chan."
--
The semester catches up with them, and classes mostly keep him and Aiba apart. Maybe it's for the best, Nino thinks. He can look to Aiba as a potential future bandmate, let the initial crush he's confusing with something more become a memory. He tries to forget how it had felt to have Aiba at his side, playing his music. At least being apart gives him time to write more songs, to make sure that the ones they do end up recording are as perfect as they're going to be.
He gets an embarrassingly apologetic phone call from Aiba the first week of summer break, informing him that Murakami and Yokoyama got a few new bells and whistles for their home studio. Would now be okay to record? If Nino's still interested?
He practices the guitar portion until his fingers ache. His first recording session with someone else, and he hates how nervous he is. Music is everything to him, so this shouldn't be scary. Maybe it's something else.
In four takes, he and Aiba lay down the first version of Sleep to Twelve, and when Aiba looks up at him from the keyboard, positively beaming, Nino realizes that his feelings for Aiba are stronger than ever.
--
Nino thinks that maybe the reason he's so good at music is because it's an indoor activity. But Aiba, despite his musical interests, is definitely one for outdoor activities. He spends the rest of the summer avoiding every Aiba invitation that doesn't involve them playing music together, but the next term is about to start and he slips up, finally agreeing to go to the beach with Aiba.
Aiba's parents run a Chinese restaurant in Chiba, and one of their former busboys, Yamaguchi Tatsuya, loves to surf. Even though he's a few years older, he and Aiba are good friends, so he and Nino take the train east to the beach where Yamaguchi has a house. More like a shack, Nino realizes when they arrive.
It's ungodly hot, and Nino shows his protesting spirit by wearing a hat and a thin, but long-sleeved button down. As soon as they reach the sand, Aiba's already stripped down to his swim trunks and hauling along a surfboard borrowed from his older friend.
"You're sure you're not getting in the water? You're like a grandma," Aiba complains as Nino arranges himself on a blanket under one of the rental umbrellas.
"Isn't it enough that you got me here?" he grumbles, longing to be back in the nice, air-conditioned studio where he and Aiba can just be musicians instead of something Nino can't truly explain. To anyone else at the beach, he and Aiba appear to be friends, but Nino's never really wanted to do things with his friends that he wants to do with Aiba.
"Suit yourself!" Aiba says as he and his friend hit the water. It's incredibly boring watching them both wade out and hop onto the boards, catch a wave, repeat ad nauseam. But Aiba's happy, smiling and laughing with Yamaguchi. Nino wonders if starting a band with Aiba could have consequences. If they're in the studio or on tour (assuming they achieve some measure of fame), would Aiba still get to do the things he enjoys? Nino's not sure he wants to trap him that way.
When Aiba finally emerges from the water to take a break, he collapses in the sand beside Nino's blanket, sighing in contentment. It's hard not to stare at Aiba's soaking wet hair and the beads of water all over his back and legs as he lays on his stomach. Yamaguchi settles down at Nino's other side.
"Have fun?" Nino asks, wondering if it's time to go home yet.
"Mmm," is all Aiba says. He's going to burn up, so Nino adjusts the umbrella a bit to better cover all three of them. Within minutes, Aiba's deep into a cat nap, and Yamaguchi wants to chat.
"Aiba-chan says you guys are recording music together?"
"Yeah, just a few songs. He's not bad. The future's kind of up in the air at this point."
"When I was your age, I was in a band, too." Nino's not sure he wants to listen to what went wrong - it's clear that the guy isn't in a band now, and he gets enough of an earful from his mom when he says that maybe university isn't right for him and music is.
"Oh? What happened?" Nino asks anyway because it's what he's supposed to do.
"The chemistry was off," Yamaguchi admits. "I'd been in another band with some friends, just bullshitting and playing out of our garage, but I ditched them and ended up with these other guys because I thought they had a better shot. They were all talented, ridiculously talented. The songs were good, the playing was good, but we didn't really like each other."
Nino brings his legs up so he can rest his head on his knees. "Do you have to like each other? Can't the music speak for itself?"
Yamaguchi shakes his head. "No way. Not a chance. Because if you don't have that chemistry when you play together, you're better off not playing at all. It was empty, our music. I may have played in a garage with those other guys, and we might never have left the garage, but we liked each other. We got along, and even if it wasn't perfect, it was still better. The music had heart."
"So mediocrity with people you love is better than success with strangers?"
"I guess you could say that, yeah. So I mean, that kid's a pain in the ass," Yamaguchi says, nodding his head in the sleeping Aiba's direction, "but I think if you keep him around, you'll do okay. I doubt you'd be mediocre, not with the way Masaki says you play and write."
"Small band with just two idiots though."
Yamaguchi opens the cooler they brought along and pulls out a beer, wrenching open the top. "Well, you found one idiot. All you've gotta do is find a few more."
"And how do I do that? It's not like collecting Pokemon or something."
"I think you'll just know."
They eventually rouse Aiba from his nap, and Yamaguchi's nice enough to drive them back. He's willing to take Nino all the way back into Tokyo, but he says it's fine to be dropped off at Aiba's place. In a few more weeks they'll be back in the dorms for second term, but Nino's not so sure he's going to be a very attentive student. He has idiots to scout for.
And as for the idiot he's already scouted, he follows Aiba around to the back of his house. His parents are out of town visiting the grandparents, and his brother's off with a school group, so they sit in Aiba's small backyard with beers smuggled from the fridge and Aiba's out-of-tune guitar.
Maybe this is what being a musician really is, Nino realizes as he strums and listens to Aiba's strangely endearing singing voice as he plays anime theme songs from their childhood. He plays until Aiba's voice is hoarse, and the sky turns pitch black. Maybe they'll need a different lead singer so Nino can focus on the music and his own playing. He wonders what Sleep to Twelve might sound like with a knockout lead vocal. With a drummer and bass.
"You want to stay over? Train's going to stop running in an hour," Aiba says as they fold up the lawn chairs and put them back in the shed.
He nods, following Aiba into the house. Nino remembers his conversation at the beach, how Yamaguchi had left people he'd loved for people he thought would get him places. He realizes that even if his feelings for Aiba could become a problem down the road, it doesn't really matter. Since they've met, AIba's made him happy. Aiba cares about the music. And in his mind, those two things are equally important.
Aiba's by the refrigerator, opening the door, and the air conditioning switches on in the other room with a sudden hum. "Did you want anything else to drink?"
"Do you like me?" Nino asks bluntly, honestly.
Aiba turns, closing the door without grabbing anything and leaning back against it. "What?"
"I think we can make good music together. I think we should be a band. Not just people who record in some friend's apartment, but a real band. With a name and a set list and maybe groupies if we're lucky someday."
"There's just two of us."
"Well, leave that part to me then."
"Okay," Aiba says, scratching the back of his neck. His t-shirt rides up as he does so, and Nino takes a deep breath. "Wait, what does this have to do with the first question?"
"I just want to put this out there, for the sake of full disclosure. I want to play music with you, Aiba-chan. But I also need you to know that I like you. And if that's going to be a problem or if it's going to be weird, then I want you to tell me now so I can work on not liking you. For the sake of the music, I mean."
It's an agonizing few seconds before Aiba looks down, and Nino waits to be thoroughly rejected.
Instead, Aiba's hand finds his wrist, the long fingers that Nino hopes will play his songs forever wrapping around tightly. "You don't have to worry," Aiba says, leaning forward until their mouths are only inches apart. His voice is less playful than usual. "It's definitely not weird."
"It's not, huh?" Nino closes the distance, having to tilt his neck a bit since Aiba's taller and just mean enough not to lean down for him. They kiss in the Aiba family kitchen, not yet twenty and not yet famous. But they've got plenty of time for that anyhow.
Nino just knows, deep down, that his lyrics and his compositions are going to get him somewhere someday. It may not be far, but as long as he finds the right people to come along with him, the journey should be the fun part.