Music and solitude
Music and solitude
Yamamoto Sayaka/Shiroma Miru
AU, 720 words, PG
Sayaka grabs her guitar as she storms past Miru.
Sayaka grabs her guitar as she storms past Miru, throws herself onto the door handle, slams it closed behind herself once she's out of the apartment. She walks, walks, walks, cold air filling her lungs, numbing her throat but she keeps going, walking, guitar on her back. Where she's going, she doesn't know, she just knows she has to get away from there.
And she knows what taking her guitar with her means to her partner, knows that she knows that's all Sayaka needs to be okay.
The anger is still bubbling inside her, rushing hot through her veins, keeps her going despite her lack of a jacket in the winter night. It's enough to make her throw something, but it's either her wallet or her instrument and it's not worth it. She's not worth it. As if looking for a way to release her tension, the feelings inside her, her foot meets the guardrail that separates her from the frequently passing cars. It creaks, made weak by rust, and even that reminds Sayaka of her own weakness. She curses to herself, kicks it again, and keeps going.
By the time she stops Sayaka has lost track of time, but she knows where she is, knows the bus will take her home if she gets on it, and it's not too late for it to come. Yet she doesn't sit on the bench next to the bus stop, she continues just a little bit further, to the stairs to the pedestrian bridge. The asphalt cools her skin through her black jeans as she sits down, but it doesn't make her change her mind and look for a better spot. The guitar is in her lap now, her fingers on it and she ignores the numbness in them. She plays, plays, searching for a melody, a chord, anything, plays her feelings out on the cold metal strings.
She doesn't want to give up. Not on her dreams, on her music, on herself, or on her partner, but if she has to choose she knows what it will be. There are days when she doubts herself too, and at night she does it even more often, but nothing hurts like hearing Miru say that it's not going to work. That she should find something proper to do with her life.
So she plays, alone in the night, occasionally lit up by the glaring headlights of every car that passes, then left in shadows. Her pick is colder than her fingers, to the point where it hurts, but she plays until every drop of anger has left her, until the regret has subsided, until she feels calmer, and then she plays more.
Sayaka's music is her world, and Miru is the pillar that keeps her world upright. And she knows, if it comes to an end, that she'll walk her road of destiny alone, that she has to be strong, that she will be supporting her world entirely on her own. She can do it, her will to succeed is strong enough, she believes in herself, but that she can doesn't mean she wants to.
That's always her conclusion. And that's why she always ends up going back
She doesn't get on the bus, walks back, and it takes longer now. Her limbs are shivering by the time she reaches the door; unlocked, because Miru knows she didn't bring her keys. The warm embrace that she is everything that is familiar, once exciting but still enticing, and while the relief of her still being there doesn't make her cry, it makes her heart throb inside her.
Miru's soft voice tells her that it was just a stupid argument, that she didn't mean to make Sayaka feel like she doesn't care, that it's just something that she had been thinking of, and it hurts that it makes sense. For a brief moment, until they let go of each other, Sayaka wonders if her dreams are worth giving up this, if she should try to be rational and live an as ordinary life as possible with her partner. If putting the music dreams aside might in fact make her happier than she is now.
But as her cold lips meet Miru's, Sayaka feels it again. Not yet. She's not ready to give up yet.
Yamamoto Sayaka/Shiroma Miru
AU, 720 words, PG
Sayaka grabs her guitar as she storms past Miru.
Sayaka grabs her guitar as she storms past Miru, throws herself onto the door handle, slams it closed behind herself once she's out of the apartment. She walks, walks, walks, cold air filling her lungs, numbing her throat but she keeps going, walking, guitar on her back. Where she's going, she doesn't know, she just knows she has to get away from there.
And she knows what taking her guitar with her means to her partner, knows that she knows that's all Sayaka needs to be okay.
The anger is still bubbling inside her, rushing hot through her veins, keeps her going despite her lack of a jacket in the winter night. It's enough to make her throw something, but it's either her wallet or her instrument and it's not worth it. She's not worth it. As if looking for a way to release her tension, the feelings inside her, her foot meets the guardrail that separates her from the frequently passing cars. It creaks, made weak by rust, and even that reminds Sayaka of her own weakness. She curses to herself, kicks it again, and keeps going.
By the time she stops Sayaka has lost track of time, but she knows where she is, knows the bus will take her home if she gets on it, and it's not too late for it to come. Yet she doesn't sit on the bench next to the bus stop, she continues just a little bit further, to the stairs to the pedestrian bridge. The asphalt cools her skin through her black jeans as she sits down, but it doesn't make her change her mind and look for a better spot. The guitar is in her lap now, her fingers on it and she ignores the numbness in them. She plays, plays, searching for a melody, a chord, anything, plays her feelings out on the cold metal strings.
She doesn't want to give up. Not on her dreams, on her music, on herself, or on her partner, but if she has to choose she knows what it will be. There are days when she doubts herself too, and at night she does it even more often, but nothing hurts like hearing Miru say that it's not going to work. That she should find something proper to do with her life.
So she plays, alone in the night, occasionally lit up by the glaring headlights of every car that passes, then left in shadows. Her pick is colder than her fingers, to the point where it hurts, but she plays until every drop of anger has left her, until the regret has subsided, until she feels calmer, and then she plays more.
Sayaka's music is her world, and Miru is the pillar that keeps her world upright. And she knows, if it comes to an end, that she'll walk her road of destiny alone, that she has to be strong, that she will be supporting her world entirely on her own. She can do it, her will to succeed is strong enough, she believes in herself, but that she can doesn't mean she wants to.
That's always her conclusion. And that's why she always ends up going back
She doesn't get on the bus, walks back, and it takes longer now. Her limbs are shivering by the time she reaches the door; unlocked, because Miru knows she didn't bring her keys. The warm embrace that she is everything that is familiar, once exciting but still enticing, and while the relief of her still being there doesn't make her cry, it makes her heart throb inside her.
Miru's soft voice tells her that it was just a stupid argument, that she didn't mean to make Sayaka feel like she doesn't care, that it's just something that she had been thinking of, and it hurts that it makes sense. For a brief moment, until they let go of each other, Sayaka wonders if her dreams are worth giving up this, if she should try to be rational and live an as ordinary life as possible with her partner. If putting the music dreams aside might in fact make her happier than she is now.
But as her cold lips meet Miru's, Sayaka feels it again. Not yet. She's not ready to give up yet.