Emergence 1/2
「Emergence」
Type: short story (part one)
Fandom: the GazettE
Pairing: Reita/Uruha, Aoi/Reita
Genre: romance, bandfic
Rating: R
Warnings: vague sexual situations, drinking
Summary: It takes years of history to understand why Uruha and Aoi have such an on and off relationship.
Word count: ~6,650
Notes: Written for the lovely chivakaza at jrockurisumasu exchange.
( Emergence - The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. )
0. Narrative Time Travel
Uruha and Aoi have a peculiar dynamic. They respect each other, learn from each other. They like drinking together, for some reason. Yet they're distant, somehow, especially on Uruha's side. They're on and off.
In order to properly understand the reason for this, we first need to return to a certain day. Specifically, we need to go back to the eighth of May, 1997, a Thursday. It's the day when Uruha-or should I say Kouyou-is stealing a magazine.
He's the lanky boy in a school uniform shuffling around the dark blue kiosk. Do you see him? His tie is straight, shirt tucked in. He looks proper. Because he knows how to act around suspicious salespeople. He's learnt this well because he's still in that part of his teens when he thinks stealing is incredibly cool. He clearly doesn't know this magazine he's eyeing could irreparably complicate his life. He just really wants it. Because he's young and he's curious, and he's entitled.
1. The Magazine Discombobulation
Kouyou swipes the magazine with a stroke of pure mastery, thank you very much, and hides it in the mangled lining of his bag. He drops by his house for lunch, but he can't look at it there, because home is too crowded. With the wedding preparations in full swing, there is no privacy in his own home, not even in the bathroom. And besides, he wants to show the magazine to Akira. Not only because it holds great interest to both of them, but because it is a trophy he can shove in Akira's disbelieving face.
They meet just outside the park proper, where the hill slope begins. Kouyou passes through the trees, clutching the bag against him as if the magazine can somehow jump out of his bag and fly back to the kiosk. Stealing comes with jolts like these. It's why Kouyou likes it.
He jumps over the low fence and finds Akira already sitting in the grass, leaning against the concrete remains of the wall that once surrounded the park. Akira doesn't say a thing, isn't even showing that goofy grin of his, but Kouyou knows he's just as excited. He plops down next to him and pulls the magazine from the safe confines of his bag. It's still inside the plastic, glossy, and all kinds of wrong and right.
"You got it," Akira says, with the tiniest bit of surprise.
"Of course I got it. Stop doubting my sleight of hand."
Kouyou tears off the plastic, and they look. Girls with guys, girls with girls, girls with spread legs, girls doing stuff that looks mildly painful and oh-so-wonderful.
They are young and easily overwhelmed, a fact they forgot in their excitement to see it all.
Naked skin, reddened skin, swollen lips. The sort of material that's bound to get their hearts going faster and send blood rushing right down.
Akira already has his hand halfway down his trousers by the time Kouyou decides he can't hold off until he's alone.
It's certainly a spur of the moment kind of thing, he decides when the magazine is thoroughly researched front to back and he's coming down from a third of fourth high, he can't quite remember.
"Got any tissues?" he asks, trying to keep his breathing level.
Akira mumbles something and rummages through his bag. They clean off. They don't look each other in the eye much when they separate in the park. They don't speak for three days following that, and then everything is normal. A silent agreement. It didn't happen. And they don't mention it again.
Not until the day at the library, of all places. It's the big library in the centre, and Akira is looking for additional resources for his history paper. Kouyou hovers, flipping through anything interesting he can find. He'd already decided not to write his paper.
Akira finds two books and goes to check them out. On the way to the counter, Kouyou notices a patch of bright colour, tucked way in the back. He halts. They have the magazines here, as well.
As soon as Akira is done with the books, Kouyou drags him over to the forbidden section before anyone can see.
"Are you mad?" Akira whispers. "We'll get thrown out."
Kouyou glances around. The aisle is empty at this time of day. "Come on, no one is here." He takes out one of the magazines. It's old, almost seems vintage. He wonders what's the point of keeping this type of magazine in the library. Not like anyone's gonna jerk off in the middle of an aisle.
He tucks the magazine into his bag and ushers Akira away from the stacks.
"Where are we going?"
"Quiet," Kouyou instructs as they dash from the library proper and towards the bathrooms.
"Kou, you're insane," Akira keeps whispering. "If we get caught, they'll call our parents. Everyone will know."
"I don't care," Kouyou says. He pushes him into an empty bathroom and into the stall farthest from the door.
When he opens the magazine, Akira doesn't complain anymore. The pages are thin and wrinkled, the sort of paper used ten years back. Some of the angles are different. But the content is the same. The effect is the same. Only this time, they aren't in the grass where there's as much space as they need.
Here, it's cramped and warm and the heat only rises. As Kouyou unzips his pants, the magazine slides from his hand and lands on the floor.
Akira gives him a concerned look, but there's heat in his cheeks and one of his hands is violently clutching the hem of his jacket. Kouyou doesn't really know why, but he reaches over and unzips Akira's slacks and pulls them down a bit as if saying, "No need to restrain yourself."
And Akira doesn't.
There's just enough space between them that they don't have to touch. But Akira leans into him and dips his hand into Kouyou's boxers. Kouyou's back hits the cold tiles behind him as Akira tugs their clothes down and a few uncertain breaths later, they're grinding against each other. And it's so much better than it's ever been when he did it alone. There's something revelatory in the union of skin and sweat and rhythmic breaths.
The journey home is long this time, and they're going in the same direction. They cannot ignore each other. But they've been friends too long for Kouyou to give up on even trying to break the stiff silence. It was awkward the first time; it's awkward now. This is the sort of thing that can rip friendships apart, and he won't let it rip apart theirs. He's just deciding whether he should talk yet again about J's upcoming album, or about the fact that he's decided to buy a guitar, when Akira speaks instead.
"About earlier..."
Kouyou dismisses this with a wave of hand. "No need to talk about it."
"But-"
Kouyou looks at him firmly. "Did you like it?"
"Yes, but-"
"And do you regret it?"
"No."
"Then there's nothing to talk about," Kouyou concludes and turns to stare at the windows. There's a lot to talk about, of course. You don't just jerk off your best friend without raising a few questions.
But not now. Kouyou has other problems on his mind now.
"So the wedding is in three weeks," Kouyou says, just to say something, to break the newly formed silence. He's staring at the darkness swooping past the windows, punctuated only by an occasional light inside the tunnel. He'd always wondered why the trains even have windows if the tunnels are dark and all stations are announced.
"Do you want to come over?" Akira asks. "You know you can come over whenever you want."
Kouyou turns back and leans in his seat, places his head next to Akira's shoulder. His view changes from dark windows to the lightly rumpled collar of Akira's uniform. "I know I can," Kouyou says. "But if I suddenly disappear, they'll ask why. Because I'm not supposed to disappear at a time like this."
Akira stares at his hands. It's always been difficult for him to talk about family, whether his or Kouyou's. But Kouyou doesn't have anyone else to discuss this with. Unako left long ago, and now Karin is leaving him, too.
"Maybe you can convince them you need a sleepover to get away from all the cakes and sewing and crap like that. You're a boy. They'll understand."
Kouyou smiles. Akira's insistence is so rare that he knows he should take him up on it. "I'll do my best," he says, and sits up.
The train stops at Akira's station. Before he disembarks, they share a glance. Fleeting, but meaningful. They can't talk about it now, but Kouyou knows, just as Akira knows, that something will happen when he comes over.
***
At home, Karin is fussing over something or other about lace not being the right pattern or colour, and doesn't even notice when Kouyou comes in and sits before the TV. And it hurts. Karin's always been the one Kouyou could talk to. They could share their deepest fears. When Kouyou was five, and Karin ten, Unako was the one getting married. Kouyou remembers how Karin cried and cried the day Unako left the house. They made a promise that day that neither of them would leave the other, not until they were both done with college and ready to set out into the world.
But now Karin is leaving, and she won't even acknowledge that she's breaking a promise. Kouyou had been the small child when they made that promise; if someone was to forget, it should have been him, not Karin.
Kouyou keeps glancing at them, unsure how to ask his mum that he wants to go over to Akira's. He needs to ease into this, so he pretends to watch a game show while Mum is placating Karin.
Unako comes from the kitchen then, carrying a plate of dango. Kouyou picks up a skewer, watching Unako as she bustles around, putting away stray magazines and post-its and pens. It's been ten years, and he's forgiven her by now. He's forgiven her years and years ago, but he still remembers how it felt the day she left.
For some reason, this gives him the kick he needs.
"Mum, Akira's invited me to come sleep over tonight. Can I go?" he asks finally, mouth full of dango.
Karin's still staring at one of the bridal magazines and comparing a bundle of lace on her lap to something inside it. She doesn't even look up.
"Have you finished your homework?"
"We'll do homework at Akira's. It's Friday, anyway."
"What about helping us here?"
"I know, Mum, but it's been all about the wedding for a while. Can I just go play at Akira's for one day?"
At this, Karin looks up, but barely. Kouyou sees her eyes flutter up, as if she wants to look at him but decides the magazine is more important, after all.
"Let him go," Unako says. She's fluffing up one of the pillows now. "Can't keep him cooped up here with all the satin and lace and baking, can you?"
Kouyou beams at her, and before Mum's reply even comes, he knows he's got her permission.
***
It's not until they'd switched off Akira's Nintendo and turned off the lights and crawled under the futon covers that something like panic settles in Kouyou's stomach. He's not quite sure what the feeling is, but it's there and it's bugging him.
He's never been good at this. When he was little, he could never figure out if he was hungry or thirsty and his family went through hell with it. One time he thought he was experiencing the butterflies people were talking about and it turned out he had gotten food poisoning. He had unusual reactions to combinations of emotions, too. When he was angry and sad at the same time, he'd start laughing.
Now, he lies in the dark for a time, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out what sort of chemical clash in his brain could manifest as panic. After about five minutes, he identifies the feeling as an amalgamation of anxiety and longing. And he's not quite sure if the longing's more because his big sister, his best friend for so many years, has already left him behind in her mind, or more because of what happened this afternoon.
He turns to his side and finds Akira awake, looking at him.
Akira whispers, "Do you want to..."
Kouyou nods, and there is nothing more to be said.
And he reaches over and Akira extends a hand and soon their clothes are discarded and they're wrapped about each other and trying not to pant too loud. And it's kind of strange, Kouyou thinks, how there are no kisses and none of the real intimate things people keep talking about, and yet it is the closest he has ever felt to another person.
They let it pass into morning. But once the sun is up and they wake with their arms still a bit tangled together and with the musky smell permeating the air, the questions must be answered.
Akira lies on his stomach, pressing his fingers into the pillow and watching it spring up again. "So what's going on? Are we..." He looks up, letting the question linger.
Kouyou shrugs. "Are we what? Hot for each other?" He laughs, and it feels good to laugh. Because he feels like he hadn't laughed in weeks. "Can't it just be something we do?"
"I suppose. I heard Nagawara say once that he did it with Kacchi and another boy, though. Like a group thing."
"I heard stuff like that, too. Guys do it sometimes. I don't think it's a big deal." Kouyou draws his knees up, staring at his feet. "I wouldn't do it with other people, though."
Akira nods, and there's the barest hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. "Yeah, me neither."
2. A Tiny Fracture
By the time Karin is married, Kouyou and Akira have both celebrated their sixteenth birthday and had behind them at least a dozen of their coveted, lascivious meetings. They did it in toilets, in each other's rooms, in vacant classrooms, once even behind the bleachers. It's always the same: a touch of another person's expertise, only for company and a release. It became an unspoken agreement that anything else would be crossing a line.
And by the time Kouyou finally manages to correctly identify a feeling he'd been harbouring for one of their seniors, it is autumn and school had started again.
This is how a tiny fracture in their friendship occurs:
Akira's fumbling with his new electric guitar and Kouyou sits at his desk, feeling glum. It's not like he wants to do this, but he feels it won't be fair to Rika if he keeps fooling around with his best friend on the side.
"So, I asked Rika out today," Kouyou says, trying to outvoice the terrible sounds coming from the amplifier.
Akira keeps strumming the strings and says, "It's about time. You kept sighing every time you saw her." And it seems like he means it.
"You're really terrible at that. Maybe some simpler instrument would suit you better," Kouyou suggests.
Akira looks up. "Like drums?"
"How about bass?"
Akira grins. "That could work. Bass only has four strings. I could handle four strings... I think." Then his face falls. He looks at the guitar. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this, then? Maybe you could buy it. Please?"
Kouyou gives him a look. "I already have a guitar, thank you."
"Well, crap." Akira finally puts the guitar away. "I could ask Kacchi. He had some ideas about starting a band, as well."
"Good," Kouyou says, watching him carefully as he moves around the room, dragging the amp aside, putting away his school bag. For some reason, he has a vague feeling Akira won't take his next words well. "So listen," Kouyou continues. "Since I'm gonna be going out with Rika and all... I just thought we shouldn't anymore... you know."
As expected, Akira looks startled and disappointed, but only for a second; then he promptly tries to cover it up.
"Sure, that's understandable," he says, but his voice sounds affected.
And Kouyou doesn't really want to end it either, but he also doesn't want to have a secret like this to keep from a potential girlfriend before they even start going out.
But this is the point whence the fracture issues and though they don't notice it at first, not really, it gnaws its way into the relationship they've built and eschews the first layer of illusion, of that pretence that they don't have a problem, not really.
Kouyou's first real date passes well and by the next week, he and Rika are an official couple.
The real surprise comes when Akira tells him a week later that he's asked Kacchi out, and he tells him this with nervous clutching of hands, as if Kouyou wouldn't approve. Kouyou approves, but the fracture widens.
Kouyou and Rika stay together for a year and a half, and he learns all the pitfalls of being in love.
By the time Rika is so stressed about college she doesn't even have time for him, Kouyou knows the breakup is imminent.
It's the evening before Rika's college exams and Kouyou is walking home from the library when a panic overcomes him and he tries to analyse it. After a while, he realizes there is nothing to analyse. What seems like panic really is panic this time.
And while he was strolling through the streets, heavy rain clouds have gathered above the city. This doesn't bode well for Kouyou. He's on his way home, but he doesn't want to be there when the storm starts, and he cannot go to Rika's, no matter how insignificant he seems to have become to her.
He rushes over to Akira's just in time to escape the rain.
When Akira opens the door, Kouyou says, "She's going to break up with me," and there is a knowing look on Akira's face. He lets him in without a word.
Kouyou hadn't come over in a while and though the walk to Akira's room feels foreign somehow, the room itself is the same.
Akira hugs him, tight and comforting. He knows. Though Kouyou had never told him, not once expressed the crippling panic he felt when both his sisters left, Akira knows. Because Akira knows everything about him. And because Akira had to live through his father leaving, which is much more dire. And even though to someone like him, Kouyou's issues with his sisters could have seemed trivial, Akira showed nothing but support.
They don't speak, not for a long while.
After they separate, Akira urges him to sit on the bed and asks, "Are you sure?"
Kouyou nods. "It's just a matter of time. And even if she doesn't do it now, she'll be off to college soon enough. And I'm not even sure if I'll finish school."
"But would you want to stay with her?"
"I don't know. Probably not. It's just..."
Then there is a distant rumble of thunder, and Kouyou draws his legs up on the bed and hugs them and closes his eyes. He knows what thunder is. He knows what lightning is. But it doesn't help.
"Can I stay here?" he asks, and shudders as another rumble reaches them, this time closer.
"Sure, I'll call your home," Akira says and Kouyou can hear him flip open his phone and speak to his mother. She knows about the fear, of course. She doesn't take it seriously, but she'll let him stay, Kouyou knows. He also knows that she doesn't want to take it seriously, because she is the one who caused it.
The thunderstorm rages throughout the evening and into the night. Akira puts on some music so Kouyou can't hear the thunder, but he can still see the flashes of lightning. Akira's window doesn't have curtains and his blinds are broken. Kouyou can feel the room light up periodically even when he closes his eyes, but as time goes by, the music soothes him and he can pretend that the light is something else.
At some point, Akira pulls the covers from beneath Kouyou, slips in beside him, and tucks them both in. Kouyou opens his eyes to thank him. The room is dark and all he can see is the shine of his eyes.
Lightning flashes again.
Akira kisses him.
At some other time, Kouyou would question this. Now, he lingers for a moment, and they break away. He spends his last waking minutes with his face against Akira's chest, and it's fine. Akira is the only person he'll be this vulnerable with.
Two days later, Rika breaks up with him. Kouyou doesn't even bother mustering up the strength to wallow. Instead he starts spending an inordinate amount of time at Akira's. They make music together. Akira starts wearing a bandanna over his nose. They drop out of school and leave their football club. They assemble a band. They disband. They leave Hiratsuka for the endless possibilities of Tokyo.
They never mention the kiss, because as far as Kouyou is concerned, it was a beautiful way to keep him from being scared. Nothing more. And he's certain Akira knows it, too.
3. The Multiplicity of Takanori
When he first meets Takanori, Kouyou decides that pronouncing him insane without further observational evidence would be insensitive.
Takanori has a new hair colour every other week and has something that can only be called fashion nonsense. Takanori thinks of himself as enthusiastic, talented and unique, and likes trying on new names for size.
Kouyou thinks of Takanori as very loud, possessing a talent with castle-sized room for improvement, and incredibly fucking strange. Switching between names is a pain in the ass. Just when he gets used to Kaede, Takanori tells them all to call him Kirihi.
This is how the ends of many practice sessions look like:
"Is it Kirisen?" Kouyou asks when presented with a new name and no furigana to read it.
"No," says Takanori/Kaede/Kirihi/unnamed person.
"The same way you wouldn't read Kirihi as Kiriaka, right."
"Right."
"What about Kirusen? Kiresen?"
"No!" Takanori/Kaede/Kirihi/unnamed person looks at him with his head a bit inclined and his eyes full of sympathy. "Should I buy you a dictionary?"
"Oh, just tell me how it's read."
"Kirua."
"Kirua?"
"Kirua," repeats Takanori/Kaede/Kirihi/Kirua.
"And this one definitely stays?" Kouyou asks tentatively.
"Definitely."
But it doesn't.
None of the other members bother participating in this. Akira calls him "Hey" or "Drummer" and the other guys begin using that, as well. But Kouyou likes Takanori or whatever his name is. He's annoying, sure, but he's also interesting. And when the band breaks up, Kouyou doesn't doubt for a moment that he's staying with them.
***
One day before Gazette is officially formed, the three of them sit in a bar and pretend they're not sad.
"So this dude shows up on Monday," Akira says, "and we're a band again. And that's it. No more."
Kouyou is still sceptical of this plan. "But what if...?"
"There is no what if," Takanori/Kirua cuts him off. "You see, it will work because we need it to work. That's how we employ the universe. It is fuelled by our desperation." He claps his hands. "Just like that. Poof, it's done. This is the last one. We can't take any more break-ups."
Kouyou empties his glass. "Well, I certainly can't."
"There you go, then. It will work."
Akira waves over the waitress to bring them another round and they drink in the name of their new, unnamed band.
Later, as they're wobbling home from the bar, Takanori tells Kouyou, "You should change your alias. Kyouki sounds too much like your real name."
"That's why I like it. It's easy to get used to."
Takanori dismisses this, waving a beer bottle at him. "You should use a name that describes you. Something like ... Uruha."
Kouyou gets a good laugh out of this. Unfortunately, Akira decides this is a great idea, strengthening Takanori's resolve. By the time they're outside their building, it's become a contest to give Kouyou the best reason to take the name, but they must think Kouyou's standards are very low because their reasons get stupider and stupider as they're climbing up the stairs.
Takanori still has the beer bottle even though it's been empty for half an hour, and he's using it as a microphone. "You need to be Uruha," he slurs, "becaaause you have long legs!"
"No," Akira says, "it should be because he's a blonde now."
"You're a blonde, too. But you're not as pretty."
"Please. Look who's talking, nose job."
Takanori gasps. "I did not have a nose job!"
"It sure as hell looked different in those yearbooks you hide under your wardrobe."
"You're just jealous because your nose is so ugly you've got to wear a sock over it!"
"Hey, watch it," Kouyou protests. "Akira's nose is perfectly fine."
Takanori seems surprised for a second, then says, "Looks like I've found Kouyou's button." He chortles, doing a little dance with the beer bottle. "Oh, I'm gonna push this button a lot!"
Kouyou curses him under his breath as he lets them into his and Akira's apartment. Takanori keeps talking about Akira's nose until Akira goes into his room and slams the door.
Kouyou tosses some blankets onto the futon he'd rolled out on the floor of his tiny room. Takanori is already undressing and folding his clothes meticulously next to the futon.
"Okay, I'll be Uruha," Kouyou tells him, "under two conditions. One, you never insult Akira's nose again and you minimise the picking on him in general. Two, you choose a name for yourself and stick with it. Forever."
Takanori grins like he'd been expecting this sort of a deal and immediately accepts.
Ten minutes later, Kouyou's nearly asleep when Takanori asks, "So are you and Akira like ... secretly dating each other?"
Kouyou jerks, an involuntary movement between being taken aback and wanting to prop himself up. He stares at Takanori's form in the dimness of the room. "What? Of course not."
"So you don't mind if I ask him out?"
"Are you serious?"
Takanori laughs and rolls over, facing the wardrobe. "I like your button, Uruha. And don't worry, I like boobs. A lot. The more the better. But don't judge me because I think they'd look good on you, yeah..."
He falls asleep mumbling about boobs and something that sounds suspiciously like 'boob boat'. And Kouyou lies back on his pillow, staring at the lines of light cast by the blinds over the ceiling, and he thinks how Takanori is someone he wants to keep around forever. Insanity, and all.
Next morning, the futon next to Kouyou's bed is empty and he finds a post-it on his bedroom door. Ruki, it reads. In katakana. Easy to read, easy to remember. And it suits him more than any of the other names.
The next day, however, Ruki insists they all call each other by their aliases. Kouyou finds this ridiculous. He could never call himself by another name. He could never call Akira by another name. Not when they are off stage. Not in their cramped apartment, when he needs to yell at him for leaving the tap running or drinking all of the milk. Not in the dark, when he's scared of thunder and he needs to whisper his name, just once.
But when Aoi appears, Kouyou has no trouble calling him Aoi. It's just something about him. He can't quite pinpoint it. Aoi is incredibly laid-back and he's funny and he's an excellent guitarist, but there's something.
4. The Zippo Transfer
By the time Kouyou figures out what doesn't feel right about Aoi, they have changed drummers, it is the end of September and they are about to release Hankou Seimeibun.
It takes three separate events for the realization to sink in.
First-
They're in a club, drinking. The booth they're in is laid with mirrors, something that triggers Aoi to contemplate his reflection and say, "I think I wanna grow a beard."
"You can't grow a beard," Ruki says. "We're visual kei. No beards."
Aoi ignores him and drapes a flap of his cardigan across his chin. "I would look good with a big bushy beard."
Kouyou laughs. "It would take you like ten years to grow one, though."
Kai throws an arm over Kouyou's shoulders. "Yeah, if anyone could grow a beard here it's Uruha."
This seems to have no effect on Aoi. He takes off his cardigan and wraps it around his head, causing a wave of laughter across the table.
Ruki says, "Absolutely terrible," but even he cannot contain a few hearty chuckles.
Akira, who has been sitting in the corner with his arms slung out wide, stands up then, pulling Aoi with him. "Come on, old man. Let's see how you dance with that on your head."
They walk to the dance floor, laughing, and Kouyou thinks how this is good, how Akira usually never wants to dance and with Aoi around he seems more open.
Second-
A day after Akuyuukai comes out, the five of them are gathered in a café, still waiting to hear how it sold.
Kouyou keeps checking the charts on his phone. Ruki is staring out the window, looking too nervous to eat anything. The only one unaffected is Akira, who eats his pancakes, then steals Ruki's waffles while humming some Sex Pistols song.
"I kind of want to see how it looks in the store," Kai says. "You know, not at an in-store event but a random store, when you just walk in and see it..."
"Me too," Kouyou says. "I did that when we put out Wakaremichi. I couldn't believe we had a CD in actual stores."
Aoi smiles, nodding toward the door. "There's a music shop just around the corner."
The three of them share an agreeing glance.
Kouyou says "Akira? You wanna go?"
Akira shakes his head, impaling a large piece of waffle with his fork. "Ruki and I'll stay here." He waves the fork before Ruki's nose. Ruki doesn't even flinch. "Ruki's gone catatonic," Akira adds, chomping the waffle. "'m keepin' an eye on him."
They shuffle out of the café into the sunlit street and Kai all but runs to the store. Aoi puts on his sunglasses. Kouyou swipes his hair a bit further over his face, zips up his jacket. The chances of them getting recognized are minimal, but he would still feel stupid if someone realized he had come to look at his own CD.
Kai finds the CD with ease, as if he'd already been here. He holds it in both hands and Kouyou and Aoi come up to him on either side and they stare at it for a few long moments. The only sound is some soft indie rock the store's clerk is playing on the stereo.
"For some reason I want to steal it," Kai says.
Kouyou glances at the clerk who's nearly asleep behind the counter. "That wouldn't be a problem."
"Don't be stupid, boys," Aoi says, swiping the CD from Kai's hand. "I'm gonna buy it."
Kai frowns at him. "Why? We have copies."
"Why do you want to steal it?" Aoi says, raising his eyebrows a bit, his smile crooked, as if the reason is some abstruse truth they now both share.
Kouyou ignores this silent covenant and narrows his eyes at him. "You want to buy it because that action would represent a stable loop of your time and money."
Aoi laughs, raucous and mirthful. Beyond rows of shelves, the clerk jumps up, staring confusedly in their direction.
Aoi claps Kouyou's shoulder, pointing his finger at him. "Sometimes you can be a real genius. That's not the reason, though. I want to buy it because I can."
And so he does. When they return to the café, Akira and Ruki are playing something resembling chess with pieces of chopsticks and salt and pepper shakers on a makeshift board in the form of a plastic placemat. As soon as they sit down, though, Akira turns to them.
"So, Ruki's mother called him."
"Hey," Ruki protests. "I told you to keep your mouth shut."
"It's why he was all catatonic before," Akira continues, ignoring him. "Apparently his dad-"
Ruki whacks him with the placemat.
"Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ruki glares at him for a moment and when he speaks his tone is sepulchral. "I told you not to talk about it."
"Then why did you tell me?"
"Because," Ruki gets out through his teeth, whacking him again, "I trusted you not to tell anyone else."
Kouyou slides onto the bench next to Ruki and takes the placemat gently from his hands. "It's fine if you don't want to tell anyone, but please don't hit Akira. He's a fragile flower."
Akira frowns at this, but says nothing. It is a not-really-an-insult insult Kouyou has been using since middle school. In turn, Akira is allowed to call him Jojo, for reasons that are part of a whole other story.
Aoi sits next to Akira and pats his back a little, pokes his shoulder, then his cheek. "Seems pretty sturdy to me," he says, continuing with the poking, and Kouyou can't help but notice how the touch on Akira's neck isn't really a poke but more of a caress and Akira's small shiver does not escape his attention, either.
"So what's with your dad?" Kai asks, breaking Kouyou's concentration.
Ruki shakes his head and stares at the salt shaker intently. Silence settles around the table while he continues avoiding their looks. For a time, he stares out the window, where the decorative shrubbery rustles softly in the wind.
He speaks up eventually, his voice small, his right hand picking restlessly at his lower lip. "My father decided to give me another chance, apparently. He bought our CD today, but after listening to it decided that I don't deserve it, after all." He stands, avoiding to look at any of them, says, "I'm going home," and Kouyou's heart is breaking for him; it looks as though he's falling apart and for some reason Kouyou feels like he's watching something forbidden.
Third-
They're backstage preparing for their gig with Vidoll, and Aoi concludes that he was far healthier when he was smoking and declares that he's starting again, right now. He bums a cigarette from Akira.
Everyone but Ruki is done with their make-up. Kouyou is sitting by him in front of the make-up station, observing others in the mirror. Over on the small couch, Kai is drumming on his thighs and watching everyone carefully, as well. Kouyou's noticed that Kai has two frequent modes: a combo of cheerful and diligent, and watching everyone like a hawk. Before concerts, it's generally the latter.
In the middle of the room, Aoi is searching for a lighter.
Kouyou watches Akira as he fumbles in his bag, and then the scene unfolds as if in slow-motion: Akira gives Aoi his lighter, his wonderful silver zippo with an etching of a dragon that Kouyou got him for his 20th birthday, the one he never lets anyone touch. Akira places it gently on Aoi's hand and there is a glance between them, mischievous.
And it's not just the dancing or the small touches or this shattering of Akira's attitude towards the beloved zippo but it is at this moment that all the pieces finally fit together and Kouyou realizes exactly what's off about Aoi.
Aoi is an incredibly secure person; unlike most people, he knows who he is, knows exactly what he wants in life. And Akira is in love with him.
To anyone else it might have looked like the opposite: the touches and glances and teasing came from Aoi, after all, but Kouyou knows Akira, knows what he's like when he loves someone in this manner; knows, because he has been on the receiving end of it for many years.
Aoi disappears down the hallway. Akira stands for a moment, looking agitated and unsure what to do with his hands; then he follows.
They return five minutes before they have to go on stage. The black make-up in the corners of Akira's lips is smudged more than it should be, and Aoi's formerly perfect hair is a little mussed.
This is the moment when that tiny fracture widens, only this time, it spreads on Kouyou's side and Akira seems exempt.
***
They're careful. If Kouyou didn't already know, he'd have a hard time guessing. They make a point of not showing up for practice at the same time. They nearly avoid touching each other. Kouyou can't help but wonder if this is because of him or because of the others, or simply because they want to keep it to themselves.
In the months that come, he finds himself wanting to be utterly selfish. But he doesn't want to ruin Akira's new-found elation for life. Not, that is, until Christmas Eve.
Kouyou is already in a bad mood when he wakes up in the morning. He agrees to have lunch with Kai, who reminds him that the date of their Shibuya-AX concert is drawing closer, and he makes several ambiguous references to Akira and Aoi's relationship. He's concerned about it changing the band dynamic. Kouyou understands, but he rather thinks it will change his and Akira's dynamic, something he has been dreading for months.
After lunch, he buys two bottles of champagne. By the time he's home, Akira has gone out. Hasn't said where. Hasn't even asked Kouyou what his plans are, even though they used to spend Christmas Eve together, eating fried tofu and really bad lemon cake.
Kouyou drinks all of the champagne while playing video games and goes to bed early.
He wakes around midnight to very loud clinking of keys. His first thought is that Akira's gotten so drunk he can't unlock the door. His second thought is that he's still pretty drunk. He swathes himself in a hoodie and stumbles to the door.
In the dimly-lit hallway, he first sees the keys glinting on the floor. Then comes something that he definitely doesn't want to see, not because it's unpleasant, per se, but because he still hasn't decided how the whole thing makes him feel.
Next to the still-open door, Akira is pressed against the wall, his hands twisting in Aoi's hair as they kiss, fierce and unrestrained. Aoi's hands snake beneath Akira's shirt, and Akira grabs Aoi's hips and spins him around, nearly slamming him into the wall.
Kouyou watches them for a few long moments, unable to determine if he's angry or simply sad. Then the two of them break apart and stumble into Akira's room, taking off their clothes, unable to keep their hands off each other.
Kouyou walks back into his room and sits on the bed. Feeling numbness spreading through him, he stares at the curtains illuminated by streetlight. Akira's room is right next to his and the walls are thin. He pulls on trousers and takes his bag. He tiptoes through the hallway, leaving Akira's keys on the floor.
He runs down the stairs and out into the street and vomits next to a street lamp.
A stray cat stares at him from across the street, and Kouyou is almost certain he can see judgement in its gleaming eyes.