PoT: wait and see
I have been listening to Asian Kung-Fu Generation ALL NIGHT. I do not lie. This combined with the image of Fuji being a cat provoked me. There. Now I have an excuse.
Yuuta tells him to sit in the front that night. Before school started that day, Yuuta had said hesitatingly, "I want to see you when I get on the stage." Fuji had smiled, reached out to ruffle his brother's hair, and asked, "Wouldn't that make you more nervous?"
"I'll worry about that," Yuuta had said stubbornly, and that had been all Fuji needed to convince him. He always had a soft spot for his brother, could never refuse him anything.
But sitting there in the fourth row that night, the thing that kicks Fuji's attention to the stage isn't his brother in a play but an act before that: a short black-haired boy standing absolutely motionlessly still in front of the microphone, playing a guitar and singing. It's the voice that calls to Fuji first, somewhere in between young and aging, trembling around the edges but not at all afraid. And the face second, his eyes squeezed shut and afterwards the brilliant smile he flashes at the crowd, a smile that seemed to be for each separate person.
All Fuji can think is, it can't be anyone else but him. And then he realizes what he's actually thinking is, I don't want anyone else but him.
*
Fuji bribes his way backstage after the preformance, even though Yuuta's up next. One of the coordinators tells him that the singer's name is Echizen Ryoma, tells Fuji that Ryoma is somewhere backstage closeby; Fuji circles the backrooms of the stage for quite a while before he spots Ryoma's figure outlined vaguely by the dim light, dozing in a chair. Fuji waits a minute, then taps Ryoma on the shoulder. "I liked your song," Fuji says before Ryoma can ask him who he is, and is not too surprised when Ryoma shrugs. The boy looks absolutely casual, noncommittal, languid and so much at ease that he almost fades into the wall. Fuji corrects himself, "I liked the way you sang."
"I sing all right," Ryoma says after a pause. Fuji leans his left shoulder against the wall, crosses his arms, and studies Ryoma for a while.
"How old are you?"
"Does it matter?" Ryoma asks, then smiles, lowering his head. "Sorry. I'm a first year."
"You're the same age as my brother?" Fuji says, shocked. Ryoma looks so small, and on the stage he had looked even smaller, definitely skinnier than Yuuta.
"Who's your brother?" Fuji's taken by the way Ryoma makes everything sound unimportant, as if he had all day to wait for Fuji's answer, as if Fuji could tell him anything and it wouldn't make a slight difference.
"Fuji Yuuta."
"Maybe," Ryoma admits suddenly, almost cutting Fuji off. He sinks into his chair despondently, still small. Frail, Fuji realizes. Delicate. But not really. Something vaguely strong about him, ironed out and careful. Cautious, actually, and that's what makes him seem younger than he was, because he's so quiet when he moves and so controlled when he speaks. "I had to skip half a year because I moved from America."
Fuji lets the answer sink in. He shakes his head slightly, plods on, "I'm in a band."
Ryoma doesn't respond, then straightens himself up in the chair and swings his entire body around so he's facing Fuji. "Is this a pick-up line, or is it someone's idea of a joke?" Ryoma asks, smiling even more, almost baring his teeth.
I'm that someone, Fuji thinks blindly. Ryoma talks in circles around his questions. Fuji can feel the thin ice he's treading. It makes the blood rush to his head; it makes him giddy. "No, it's not really," Fuji says. "I just want you to sing for us." For me, Fuji adds in his head, but doesn't say that part out loud.
Ryoma mulls it over silently before he speaks again. "I'm only in this talent show for the cat."
"Cat?" Fuji asks.
"Yeah. It said so on the sign-up poster. If the audience votes you as the best act, you get this cat." Ryoma pauses, and Fuji would think he was almost embarrassed. "A spotted Himalayan cat."
Long pause while Fuji takes a breath, and then, "Will you take my phone number anyway?" Fuji asks, smiling.
"Your brother's act is on. Shouldn't you go watch him?" Ryoma gets up. Fuji has to think, he's so young, all over again. He watches Ryoma walk away, considers how long his shadow is, considers how his ear still rings with Ryoma's voice, considers how long the hallway is, considers the way his heart beats rapidly behind the thin cover of his ribs, considers Ryoma.
*
Yuuta throws a fit when the talent show is over and he finds out Fuji hadn't watched any of his act at all.
Fuji keeps apologzing to Yuuta. He's watching the kids stream out of the auditorium at the same time. He had been backstage when they had announced who won, so he doesn't know if Ryoma got the thing he had been wanting. In the parking lot he sees the back of Ryoma's head, and when Ryoma turns around, Fuji realizes there's a little white ball of fur in Ryoma's arms.
Fuji smiles, and Yuuta gets angry all over again, asking Fuji what he finds so funny.
I'm only in this talent show for the cat, Fuji remembers Ryoma saying. Later when he gets home he remembers Ryoma's voice and doesn't sleep at all that night, digging out the lyrics Tezuka had written about a week ago. He tries singing to himself, but he keeps hearing Ryoma's voice singing them, and he keeps seeing Ryoma all alone on stage, solitary and unbelievably beautiful. He mouths Tezuka's words to himself, thinks again, like a mantra, I don't want anybody but him.
*
Weeks later, Fuji comes across Ryoma again when he's picking up Yuuta. "What's the name of the cat?" Fuji asks, and Ryoma, smiling like the boy he is, says, "Karupin."
"I don't know your name," Ryoma says. Fuji notices that Ryoma doesn't ask, 'What's your name?' and he smiles, putting his hands in his pockets thoughtfully.
"I'll tell you if you'd be willing to at least try singing for us."
"You're in a band?" Ryoma asks, tilting his head as if he's sincerely curious.
"You don't remember?"
"Sorry, I have a bad memory," Ryoma replies, pulling the bill of the cap he's wearing down lower. Fuji reaches over and flicks the bill up higher so he can see Ryoma's face.
"Fuji Syuusuke. Now you have to at least come try out for my band."
"I'll forget by tomorrow," Ryoma says, the end of his voice lilting up so it's half a question, half a dare, not at all a statement.
"It's okay. I trust you," Fuji says, writing out a time, date, and location on the back of a candy wrapper he had found in his pocket and handing it out to Ryoma who had waited, staring at the paper, before taking it. "Wait," Fuji says, and as an afterthought, scratches in his phone number as well.
"So it was a pick-up line," Ryoma says, trying not to smile and succeeding rather spectacularly, if it wasn't for his voice.
"Only if it worked," Fuji says, playing along. Then, a beat, and even Fuji can't figure out whether or not he's serious when he asks next, "Did it work?"
"We'll see," Ryoma says, turning around.
*
The first thing Oishi asks is, "Just how old is he exactly, and when did you become a cradle robber?" and Fuji is about to answer when Ryoma walks in, not quite smiling. Tezuka doesn't say anything, just looks Ryoma up and down, then pointedly looks at Fuji, eyebrows raised and shoulders tensing.
Fuji says exasperatedly, "Well, at least give it a try."
Ryoma stays relatively silent when Fuji explains to him who does what. Fuji runs through one of their songs, playing the keyboard at the same time, and he has to be careful so that the way Ryoma's looking at him doesn't make him slip up when he's playing. After they've run through it once, Fuji starts the background melody again, nodding at Ryoma. It's not perfect: Ryoma comes in late, doesn't know the rhythm, is shaky on the tune, Oishi has to adjust, Tezuka stares at Ryoma like he's something alien, but midway through the second chorus something clicks, and Fuji, relieved and absolutely excited, knows the perfection of the way they sound, and when he joins in with Ryoma in singing the last bit of the song, he knows Ryoma knows as well. Ryoma's voice is smaller without a microphone in the music room than it was on stage, but it's still the same voice, and Fuji can't help thinking, this is it.
After they're done, Tezuka blurts out, "How tall are you?" into the silence.
Ryoma looks at him, slightly hostile, and asks, "Why?"
"We'll have to make sure you can reach the microphone," Tezuka says.
It's strange, but when Fuji remembers this scene later, he's sure Ryoma turns around and smiles at Fuji instead of smiling at Tezuka. But he doesn't know for sure, and he never asks.
*
The day they record their first single, Ryoma asks Fuji afterwards, "Cats aren't in the zodiac, are they?"
"No, I don't think so," Fuji says, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Why?"
"When's your birthday?" Ryoma asks, moving in a little closer to Fuji.
"February 29th."
"So your birthday," Ryoma says, smiling, gently tracing a line from Fuji's elbow down to his wrist as he steps in just a little bit closer, "doesn't really exist either, does it?"
"Once every four years," Fuji says, and it occurs to him suddenly that it's not so much Ryoma's proximity that's irritating but more that Fuji has to tilt his head down to meet Ryoma's eyes.
"So, what, you're actually younger than I am?" Ryoma says, his tongue darting in between his lips and quickly moving before he pulls his mouth back into a devious smile.
"Something like that." And Fuji thinks Ryoma says something like 'Nine lives, right?' before he shoves, pushing Fuji to the ground, and then all Fuji can think about is the way Ryoma kisses like he'll never go away, like he's still learning, and like he knows everything; all Fuji can think about is the weight on his shoulder from Ryoma leaning his weight on his hands that are holding onto Fuji. He doesn't even give a second thought to Tezuka or Oishi or the producers.
In fact it's Ryoma who saves them from getting caught. He gets off Fuji quickly and whispers, "Stand up and pretend you're having a conversation with me." Two seconds later, Fuji just barely off the floor and on his feet, Tezuka comes in, glances around the room, and picks up a pen that's lying on the floor beside Ryoma and Fuji and hands it to Ryoma, no expression on his face at all.
When Tezuka leaves, Fuji collapses into giggles and can't stop until Ryoma, unamused, kisses him again.
*
Much, much later, fifteen minutes before their first concert, Ryoma says to Fuji on a whim, "I used to play tennis." The sound of the audience is omniously close, and Fuji can already feel the spotlight, but Ryoma isn't nervous at all. He holds a bottle of water in his hands, not shaking, and his eyes have the look of something quite detached. Fuji gives himself a little shake.
"Were you any good?"
Ryoma stares ahead at some point ahead of him. "My father was a pro," he says, so quiet Fuji can barely hear him. "I think I was okay, but he always told me how worthless I was, how I'll never beat him." Ryoma uncaps his bottle of water and takes a sip before cradling it back in between his two hands, the condensation leaking through his fingers and tracking down. "It's why I came to Japan, so I could attend the same school he did and be part of the same tennis team in Seigaku." Ryoma takes in a breath and exhales in a slow hiss. "I could have probably beat everyone on the tennis team."
Fuji glances at Ryoma. They're sitting side by side, shoulders almost touching. Fuji's stretching out his fingers and cupping them against his mouth to warm them. Ryoma just sits. "So why did you quit?"
In the distance some technician motions to them, and Ryoma gets up. He doesn't look at Fuji when he says, "Because of you," and he doesn't turn when Fuji says, "Wait."
Ryoma's voice that night is clear, cutting, sharpened and edged, and he hits his notes with something beyond grace-- something closer to fury. Even Oishi falters in his playing when Ryoma reaches the climax of their final song. Tezuka has to hit the next beat a little stronger than usual to remind Oishi of where he is. Fuji plays with slightly less glibness than he usually does, but no one takes any notice of that because they're all too caught up in Ryoma's voice, the audience more subdued than usual, everyone afraid to disturb the uneasy equilibrium.
After the performance Tezuka turns to Ryoma, eyes glittering, and says gruffly, "You did well tonight."
Ryoma shakes his head and touches his own hand, wrist, the inside of his left elbow, his neck, and his ear, as if assuring himself he's still there.
*
Fuji stays up that night too, watching Ryoma sleep. He leans into Ryoma's hair and feels the warmth coming off, is suddenly aware of how cold his fingers are, how cold and immobile his toes are, and says as softly as he can, trying not to disturb the strands of hair in his face, "I believe you."
Ryoma turns around, still asleep, and subconsciously reaches for where Fuji's waist is
A/N: WHO IS ON CRACK? ME. P.S. BING you owe me Fuji/Yuuta angst. As well as any number of OTHER things.
EDIT: OBVIOUSLY I CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE MY COMPUTER AND THIS DID NOT GO TO THE P-ZONE COMMUNITY. *IS UNAMUSED* WHATEVER.
Yuuta tells him to sit in the front that night. Before school started that day, Yuuta had said hesitatingly, "I want to see you when I get on the stage." Fuji had smiled, reached out to ruffle his brother's hair, and asked, "Wouldn't that make you more nervous?"
"I'll worry about that," Yuuta had said stubbornly, and that had been all Fuji needed to convince him. He always had a soft spot for his brother, could never refuse him anything.
But sitting there in the fourth row that night, the thing that kicks Fuji's attention to the stage isn't his brother in a play but an act before that: a short black-haired boy standing absolutely motionlessly still in front of the microphone, playing a guitar and singing. It's the voice that calls to Fuji first, somewhere in between young and aging, trembling around the edges but not at all afraid. And the face second, his eyes squeezed shut and afterwards the brilliant smile he flashes at the crowd, a smile that seemed to be for each separate person.
All Fuji can think is, it can't be anyone else but him. And then he realizes what he's actually thinking is, I don't want anyone else but him.
*
Fuji bribes his way backstage after the preformance, even though Yuuta's up next. One of the coordinators tells him that the singer's name is Echizen Ryoma, tells Fuji that Ryoma is somewhere backstage closeby; Fuji circles the backrooms of the stage for quite a while before he spots Ryoma's figure outlined vaguely by the dim light, dozing in a chair. Fuji waits a minute, then taps Ryoma on the shoulder. "I liked your song," Fuji says before Ryoma can ask him who he is, and is not too surprised when Ryoma shrugs. The boy looks absolutely casual, noncommittal, languid and so much at ease that he almost fades into the wall. Fuji corrects himself, "I liked the way you sang."
"I sing all right," Ryoma says after a pause. Fuji leans his left shoulder against the wall, crosses his arms, and studies Ryoma for a while.
"How old are you?"
"Does it matter?" Ryoma asks, then smiles, lowering his head. "Sorry. I'm a first year."
"You're the same age as my brother?" Fuji says, shocked. Ryoma looks so small, and on the stage he had looked even smaller, definitely skinnier than Yuuta.
"Who's your brother?" Fuji's taken by the way Ryoma makes everything sound unimportant, as if he had all day to wait for Fuji's answer, as if Fuji could tell him anything and it wouldn't make a slight difference.
"Fuji Yuuta."
"Maybe," Ryoma admits suddenly, almost cutting Fuji off. He sinks into his chair despondently, still small. Frail, Fuji realizes. Delicate. But not really. Something vaguely strong about him, ironed out and careful. Cautious, actually, and that's what makes him seem younger than he was, because he's so quiet when he moves and so controlled when he speaks. "I had to skip half a year because I moved from America."
Fuji lets the answer sink in. He shakes his head slightly, plods on, "I'm in a band."
Ryoma doesn't respond, then straightens himself up in the chair and swings his entire body around so he's facing Fuji. "Is this a pick-up line, or is it someone's idea of a joke?" Ryoma asks, smiling even more, almost baring his teeth.
I'm that someone, Fuji thinks blindly. Ryoma talks in circles around his questions. Fuji can feel the thin ice he's treading. It makes the blood rush to his head; it makes him giddy. "No, it's not really," Fuji says. "I just want you to sing for us." For me, Fuji adds in his head, but doesn't say that part out loud.
Ryoma mulls it over silently before he speaks again. "I'm only in this talent show for the cat."
"Cat?" Fuji asks.
"Yeah. It said so on the sign-up poster. If the audience votes you as the best act, you get this cat." Ryoma pauses, and Fuji would think he was almost embarrassed. "A spotted Himalayan cat."
Long pause while Fuji takes a breath, and then, "Will you take my phone number anyway?" Fuji asks, smiling.
"Your brother's act is on. Shouldn't you go watch him?" Ryoma gets up. Fuji has to think, he's so young, all over again. He watches Ryoma walk away, considers how long his shadow is, considers how his ear still rings with Ryoma's voice, considers how long the hallway is, considers the way his heart beats rapidly behind the thin cover of his ribs, considers Ryoma.
*
Yuuta throws a fit when the talent show is over and he finds out Fuji hadn't watched any of his act at all.
Fuji keeps apologzing to Yuuta. He's watching the kids stream out of the auditorium at the same time. He had been backstage when they had announced who won, so he doesn't know if Ryoma got the thing he had been wanting. In the parking lot he sees the back of Ryoma's head, and when Ryoma turns around, Fuji realizes there's a little white ball of fur in Ryoma's arms.
Fuji smiles, and Yuuta gets angry all over again, asking Fuji what he finds so funny.
I'm only in this talent show for the cat, Fuji remembers Ryoma saying. Later when he gets home he remembers Ryoma's voice and doesn't sleep at all that night, digging out the lyrics Tezuka had written about a week ago. He tries singing to himself, but he keeps hearing Ryoma's voice singing them, and he keeps seeing Ryoma all alone on stage, solitary and unbelievably beautiful. He mouths Tezuka's words to himself, thinks again, like a mantra, I don't want anybody but him.
*
Weeks later, Fuji comes across Ryoma again when he's picking up Yuuta. "What's the name of the cat?" Fuji asks, and Ryoma, smiling like the boy he is, says, "Karupin."
"I don't know your name," Ryoma says. Fuji notices that Ryoma doesn't ask, 'What's your name?' and he smiles, putting his hands in his pockets thoughtfully.
"I'll tell you if you'd be willing to at least try singing for us."
"You're in a band?" Ryoma asks, tilting his head as if he's sincerely curious.
"You don't remember?"
"Sorry, I have a bad memory," Ryoma replies, pulling the bill of the cap he's wearing down lower. Fuji reaches over and flicks the bill up higher so he can see Ryoma's face.
"Fuji Syuusuke. Now you have to at least come try out for my band."
"I'll forget by tomorrow," Ryoma says, the end of his voice lilting up so it's half a question, half a dare, not at all a statement.
"It's okay. I trust you," Fuji says, writing out a time, date, and location on the back of a candy wrapper he had found in his pocket and handing it out to Ryoma who had waited, staring at the paper, before taking it. "Wait," Fuji says, and as an afterthought, scratches in his phone number as well.
"So it was a pick-up line," Ryoma says, trying not to smile and succeeding rather spectacularly, if it wasn't for his voice.
"Only if it worked," Fuji says, playing along. Then, a beat, and even Fuji can't figure out whether or not he's serious when he asks next, "Did it work?"
"We'll see," Ryoma says, turning around.
*
The first thing Oishi asks is, "Just how old is he exactly, and when did you become a cradle robber?" and Fuji is about to answer when Ryoma walks in, not quite smiling. Tezuka doesn't say anything, just looks Ryoma up and down, then pointedly looks at Fuji, eyebrows raised and shoulders tensing.
Fuji says exasperatedly, "Well, at least give it a try."
Ryoma stays relatively silent when Fuji explains to him who does what. Fuji runs through one of their songs, playing the keyboard at the same time, and he has to be careful so that the way Ryoma's looking at him doesn't make him slip up when he's playing. After they've run through it once, Fuji starts the background melody again, nodding at Ryoma. It's not perfect: Ryoma comes in late, doesn't know the rhythm, is shaky on the tune, Oishi has to adjust, Tezuka stares at Ryoma like he's something alien, but midway through the second chorus something clicks, and Fuji, relieved and absolutely excited, knows the perfection of the way they sound, and when he joins in with Ryoma in singing the last bit of the song, he knows Ryoma knows as well. Ryoma's voice is smaller without a microphone in the music room than it was on stage, but it's still the same voice, and Fuji can't help thinking, this is it.
After they're done, Tezuka blurts out, "How tall are you?" into the silence.
Ryoma looks at him, slightly hostile, and asks, "Why?"
"We'll have to make sure you can reach the microphone," Tezuka says.
It's strange, but when Fuji remembers this scene later, he's sure Ryoma turns around and smiles at Fuji instead of smiling at Tezuka. But he doesn't know for sure, and he never asks.
*
The day they record their first single, Ryoma asks Fuji afterwards, "Cats aren't in the zodiac, are they?"
"No, I don't think so," Fuji says, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Why?"
"When's your birthday?" Ryoma asks, moving in a little closer to Fuji.
"February 29th."
"So your birthday," Ryoma says, smiling, gently tracing a line from Fuji's elbow down to his wrist as he steps in just a little bit closer, "doesn't really exist either, does it?"
"Once every four years," Fuji says, and it occurs to him suddenly that it's not so much Ryoma's proximity that's irritating but more that Fuji has to tilt his head down to meet Ryoma's eyes.
"So, what, you're actually younger than I am?" Ryoma says, his tongue darting in between his lips and quickly moving before he pulls his mouth back into a devious smile.
"Something like that." And Fuji thinks Ryoma says something like 'Nine lives, right?' before he shoves, pushing Fuji to the ground, and then all Fuji can think about is the way Ryoma kisses like he'll never go away, like he's still learning, and like he knows everything; all Fuji can think about is the weight on his shoulder from Ryoma leaning his weight on his hands that are holding onto Fuji. He doesn't even give a second thought to Tezuka or Oishi or the producers.
In fact it's Ryoma who saves them from getting caught. He gets off Fuji quickly and whispers, "Stand up and pretend you're having a conversation with me." Two seconds later, Fuji just barely off the floor and on his feet, Tezuka comes in, glances around the room, and picks up a pen that's lying on the floor beside Ryoma and Fuji and hands it to Ryoma, no expression on his face at all.
When Tezuka leaves, Fuji collapses into giggles and can't stop until Ryoma, unamused, kisses him again.
*
Much, much later, fifteen minutes before their first concert, Ryoma says to Fuji on a whim, "I used to play tennis." The sound of the audience is omniously close, and Fuji can already feel the spotlight, but Ryoma isn't nervous at all. He holds a bottle of water in his hands, not shaking, and his eyes have the look of something quite detached. Fuji gives himself a little shake.
"Were you any good?"
Ryoma stares ahead at some point ahead of him. "My father was a pro," he says, so quiet Fuji can barely hear him. "I think I was okay, but he always told me how worthless I was, how I'll never beat him." Ryoma uncaps his bottle of water and takes a sip before cradling it back in between his two hands, the condensation leaking through his fingers and tracking down. "It's why I came to Japan, so I could attend the same school he did and be part of the same tennis team in Seigaku." Ryoma takes in a breath and exhales in a slow hiss. "I could have probably beat everyone on the tennis team."
Fuji glances at Ryoma. They're sitting side by side, shoulders almost touching. Fuji's stretching out his fingers and cupping them against his mouth to warm them. Ryoma just sits. "So why did you quit?"
In the distance some technician motions to them, and Ryoma gets up. He doesn't look at Fuji when he says, "Because of you," and he doesn't turn when Fuji says, "Wait."
Ryoma's voice that night is clear, cutting, sharpened and edged, and he hits his notes with something beyond grace-- something closer to fury. Even Oishi falters in his playing when Ryoma reaches the climax of their final song. Tezuka has to hit the next beat a little stronger than usual to remind Oishi of where he is. Fuji plays with slightly less glibness than he usually does, but no one takes any notice of that because they're all too caught up in Ryoma's voice, the audience more subdued than usual, everyone afraid to disturb the uneasy equilibrium.
After the performance Tezuka turns to Ryoma, eyes glittering, and says gruffly, "You did well tonight."
Ryoma shakes his head and touches his own hand, wrist, the inside of his left elbow, his neck, and his ear, as if assuring himself he's still there.
*
Fuji stays up that night too, watching Ryoma sleep. He leans into Ryoma's hair and feels the warmth coming off, is suddenly aware of how cold his fingers are, how cold and immobile his toes are, and says as softly as he can, trying not to disturb the strands of hair in his face, "I believe you."
Ryoma turns around, still asleep, and subconsciously reaches for where Fuji's waist is
A/N: WHO IS ON CRACK? ME. P.S. BING you owe me Fuji/Yuuta angst. As well as any number of OTHER things.
EDIT: OBVIOUSLY I CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE MY COMPUTER AND THIS DID NOT GO TO THE P-ZONE COMMUNITY. *IS UNAMUSED* WHATEVER.