Kanjani8 - Song - Subaru/Yasu
Title: Song
Fandom: Kanjani8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Subaru/Yasu
Disclaimer: This is a fictional situation.
Notes: Birthday fic for the lovely therese_chan ♥♥♥ I hope you have a wonderful birthday, my dear!! ♥♥
Yasu is a professional, but when he's writing music with Subaru it's anything but that. It's a journey, together, from beginning of the song to the end. It's not complete unless both of them have their hands in it. But, this time, it's nothing like that at all.
This time, Subaru sends an email with his tentative lyrics and Yasu studies them to find the melody inside. He thinks about it in his head, hums it while he's on the train, then finally picks up his guitar when he's home from a long day and the music doesn't quite come from his fingers the way he needs it to.
The words are Subaru's, so they're full of the kind of life he gives to words. Yasu tries to imagine the way Subaru's voice might sound around them. Where would the melody take him, where would he be willing to go.
But there is something missing from those words, an emptiness that Yasu tries to swallow no matter how many times it comes up in his throat. So he sends Subaru a message right before he goes to sleep.
"I'll work on it."
---
Subaru comes up with the lyrics a few lines at a time, gets to the end of the verse, then erases them all over again. They make sense in his head, then don't quite make it to the page. He filters them through his mind, tries to let them out untranslated, knowing that Yasu will take care of the rest. Because that's what he does.
When he sends the lyrics off, it's so impersonal, he can't stand it. Like professionals, like colleagues. Like he's one end of an assembly line and Yasu is the other. He sends two verses and the beginning of a chorus.
Yasu's message doesn't come until late, and Subaru feels like it's an admission of defeat when it arrives.
---
It doesn't usually happen this way, but their schedules are such that the only times they see each other is for work. Even then, it's briefly. They can spend a whole day together and never really see each other at all.
Subaru wants to ask about the song, but it feels useless, almost. Like maybe this isn't the right time, it isn't the right song. At rehearsal, when he finally does come face to face with Yasu, and there aren't (too many) distractions around them, neither of them says anything. They just wait, and watch, and finally someone tells Subaru where to go, tells Yasu where to go, and they're nowhere near the same place.
---
It isn't intentional separation, but it nearly becomes that way. Subaru starts to think about it too much, so much that he's maybe avoiding Yasu for fear of the intensity of what he wants to say. The lyrics change in his head and he wants to rewrite all of them to be exactly what he's feeling right now. But Yasu is "working on it", so maybe Subaru has to leave it in his hands.
"Hey," Yasu says, after rehearsal. After a long, long day when Subaru's had too little sleep and too many new dance moves.
But Yasu's voice is so soft, so grounding, that Subaru just responds with a soft "hey" of his own.
---
Yasu doesn't think in quite the way Subaru does. But when there are times like this, a lull in the time they have together, Yasu feels like he might understand Subaru a little bit more. Even if he's less likely to say what he's feeling, it's strong enough for him to not take "no" for an answer when he insists Subaru come to stay over at his place.
It's late after rehearsal, and they have to start it all over again early in the morning. Whatever it is, they don't and won't have much time, but Yasu just wants Subaru. No distractions, no one else.
When they arrive at his place, it's dusty like Yasu hasn't been there for days. His guitar still leans against the wall, just outside of the case, as if it needs to be accessible in case a melody finally comes to his mind.
He notices Subaru noticing it there.
---
This is what he misses sometimes. He misses talking about music with Yasu, learning about who he's into, going with Yasu to second-hand CD stores and local shows. Yasu gets music in the same way Subaru does. It isn't a hobby, or a habit. But Yasu understands it.
Subaru still wants to bring it up. Even though it feels far beyond awkward when they're sitting in Yasu's living room, his guitar only feet from both of them. Even after Yasu's offered him a drink, and Subaru's sprawled out on a beanbag, and the room has become more warm and comfortable than he's ever remembered it.
He almost thinks he can hear the sound of Yasu's guitar strings, just vibrating against the open air. Maybe it's out because Yasu was "working on it". Maybe he didn't get much further than Subaru did. Maybe that glaring something that was missing when Subaru wrote it was also missing when Yasu tried to play a melody. Yasu kneels next to him on the floor, and Subaru is about to just say the words he needs to say when Yasu puts his finger under Subaru's chin and then kisses him.
Subaru's head swims, and he closes his eyes while Yasu moves quickly, hands sliding under his shirt, pulling it over his head, kissing his neck, his chest, his belly. Subaru spreads his legs apart, and Yasu fits between them so naturally that the progression from here on the floor to there in the bedroom happens in one fluid motion.
Yasu is strong, and Subaru likes the feeling of being underneath him, slack and powerless. Because he knows Yasu will take care of him in every way.
Afterwards, Subaru falls asleep, tangled in the blankets. Yasu doesn't come back to the bed until well after three in the morning.
---
The sound of Yasu's guitar strings. Not the faint sound of them against the empty air, but the sound of his calloused fingers, carefully drawing out each note.
Then Yasu's voice, singing Subaru's words.
And Subaru listens, while morning creeps into the open windows, and understands the words he needs to write the last verse.
Fandom: Kanjani8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Subaru/Yasu
Disclaimer: This is a fictional situation.
Notes: Birthday fic for the lovely therese_chan ♥♥♥ I hope you have a wonderful birthday, my dear!! ♥♥
Yasu is a professional, but when he's writing music with Subaru it's anything but that. It's a journey, together, from beginning of the song to the end. It's not complete unless both of them have their hands in it. But, this time, it's nothing like that at all.
This time, Subaru sends an email with his tentative lyrics and Yasu studies them to find the melody inside. He thinks about it in his head, hums it while he's on the train, then finally picks up his guitar when he's home from a long day and the music doesn't quite come from his fingers the way he needs it to.
The words are Subaru's, so they're full of the kind of life he gives to words. Yasu tries to imagine the way Subaru's voice might sound around them. Where would the melody take him, where would he be willing to go.
But there is something missing from those words, an emptiness that Yasu tries to swallow no matter how many times it comes up in his throat. So he sends Subaru a message right before he goes to sleep.
"I'll work on it."
---
Subaru comes up with the lyrics a few lines at a time, gets to the end of the verse, then erases them all over again. They make sense in his head, then don't quite make it to the page. He filters them through his mind, tries to let them out untranslated, knowing that Yasu will take care of the rest. Because that's what he does.
When he sends the lyrics off, it's so impersonal, he can't stand it. Like professionals, like colleagues. Like he's one end of an assembly line and Yasu is the other. He sends two verses and the beginning of a chorus.
Yasu's message doesn't come until late, and Subaru feels like it's an admission of defeat when it arrives.
---
It doesn't usually happen this way, but their schedules are such that the only times they see each other is for work. Even then, it's briefly. They can spend a whole day together and never really see each other at all.
Subaru wants to ask about the song, but it feels useless, almost. Like maybe this isn't the right time, it isn't the right song. At rehearsal, when he finally does come face to face with Yasu, and there aren't (too many) distractions around them, neither of them says anything. They just wait, and watch, and finally someone tells Subaru where to go, tells Yasu where to go, and they're nowhere near the same place.
---
It isn't intentional separation, but it nearly becomes that way. Subaru starts to think about it too much, so much that he's maybe avoiding Yasu for fear of the intensity of what he wants to say. The lyrics change in his head and he wants to rewrite all of them to be exactly what he's feeling right now. But Yasu is "working on it", so maybe Subaru has to leave it in his hands.
"Hey," Yasu says, after rehearsal. After a long, long day when Subaru's had too little sleep and too many new dance moves.
But Yasu's voice is so soft, so grounding, that Subaru just responds with a soft "hey" of his own.
---
Yasu doesn't think in quite the way Subaru does. But when there are times like this, a lull in the time they have together, Yasu feels like he might understand Subaru a little bit more. Even if he's less likely to say what he's feeling, it's strong enough for him to not take "no" for an answer when he insists Subaru come to stay over at his place.
It's late after rehearsal, and they have to start it all over again early in the morning. Whatever it is, they don't and won't have much time, but Yasu just wants Subaru. No distractions, no one else.
When they arrive at his place, it's dusty like Yasu hasn't been there for days. His guitar still leans against the wall, just outside of the case, as if it needs to be accessible in case a melody finally comes to his mind.
He notices Subaru noticing it there.
---
This is what he misses sometimes. He misses talking about music with Yasu, learning about who he's into, going with Yasu to second-hand CD stores and local shows. Yasu gets music in the same way Subaru does. It isn't a hobby, or a habit. But Yasu understands it.
Subaru still wants to bring it up. Even though it feels far beyond awkward when they're sitting in Yasu's living room, his guitar only feet from both of them. Even after Yasu's offered him a drink, and Subaru's sprawled out on a beanbag, and the room has become more warm and comfortable than he's ever remembered it.
He almost thinks he can hear the sound of Yasu's guitar strings, just vibrating against the open air. Maybe it's out because Yasu was "working on it". Maybe he didn't get much further than Subaru did. Maybe that glaring something that was missing when Subaru wrote it was also missing when Yasu tried to play a melody. Yasu kneels next to him on the floor, and Subaru is about to just say the words he needs to say when Yasu puts his finger under Subaru's chin and then kisses him.
Subaru's head swims, and he closes his eyes while Yasu moves quickly, hands sliding under his shirt, pulling it over his head, kissing his neck, his chest, his belly. Subaru spreads his legs apart, and Yasu fits between them so naturally that the progression from here on the floor to there in the bedroom happens in one fluid motion.
Yasu is strong, and Subaru likes the feeling of being underneath him, slack and powerless. Because he knows Yasu will take care of him in every way.
Afterwards, Subaru falls asleep, tangled in the blankets. Yasu doesn't come back to the bed until well after three in the morning.
---
The sound of Yasu's guitar strings. Not the faint sound of them against the empty air, but the sound of his calloused fingers, carefully drawing out each note.
Then Yasu's voice, singing Subaru's words.
And Subaru listens, while morning creeps into the open windows, and understands the words he needs to write the last verse.