Chapter Text
The tap, tap, tap of his shoes matches the rapid beating of his heart as he paces back and forth in front of the music room door. He could do this. He could talk to him. It would be a normal conversation – he’d ask a normal question. Haruki could do this.
Anxiety rose to his throat and he could feel his palms start to sweat has he clutched the straps on his bass case in a death grip. Maybe he couldn’t do this…
“You’ll improve if you find a drummer,” his teacher’s voice rang in his ears – unyielding and relentless. Damnit! He had to do this! His feet stop and he swallows, stepping up to the door and stretching up on his tippytoes to peer though the thin window, not yet blessed with a growth spurt unlike the boy he was spying on.
Ah. He’s practicing violin today. So cool! His heart beat faster, anxiety replaced by something much more troublesome. Haruki dropped to his heels, thumping his head lightly against the door with a shaky sigh. This damn crush made everything worse. Had hadn’t even spoken to him yet, but every time he’d see him or hear him play violin or drums in the music room – he’d be stunned in silence with a racing heart. He was so talented and handsome and it drove Haruki crazy. Just the thought getting to play music with him spread pink blush from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.
He'd seen him for the first time at the beginning of the school year, bored and staring out the window of his first period class. That short-cropped spiky blond hair made him stick out amongst the crowd. He’d gotten into a fight, or some sort of altercation judging by the scrunched up angry expression on the boy across from him – but he remained unfazed, seemingly already taken a hit that purpled on his cheek.
He seemed unapproachable. Alluring. Wandering through the halls with a violin case or sequestered in the music room behind the drums. Haruki only caught idle glimpses, prone to sparing a moment to watch. It wasn’t until a spring violin competition that a friend dragged him to for the sake of an activity did he really see him. On stage illuminated by bright lights playing with skilled passion, it set off fireworks in Haruki’s brain. He never thought that edgy guy getting into fights would be an exceptional musician; delicate and refined. Good enough to win second.
He'd stop to watch a little longer after that – peeking into the music room window when he’d hear the resonant beating of drums or sliding hum of violin strings in hopes of seeing him play again. He’d always walk away from the sight with hands pressed over his warm pink cheeks, too caught up in his blooming feelings. Affection only grew since then, his heart urging him to get closer while his nerves kept him distant.
He sighs a long suffering exhale as he takes a step back from the door, nerves fighting for their winning streak.
“Hey.”
Haruki freezes, eyes going wide as he dares to peek up – neck craning to meet the face of the boy he’d been too scared to confront. God, he was handsome. His heart was going crazy again.
“Do you need something?” the boy asks, peering down at him with those striking green eyes.
“H-Hi,” Haruki stammers, scrambling to find the confidence to speak – this was his chance! “Y-You’re Kaji, right?”
“Call me Akihiko,” he responds, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“A-Akihiko,” he tries, flustered by the sudden informality. “Um. Do you-“ he searches for the words, handing wringing at his case straps as a reminder of why he’s here. He inhales and shuffles back, “I’m Nakaya-ah. You can call me Haruki. I play bass, and ah–” He keels into a sharp deep bow and says the next part a bit too loud, “Would you play drums with me?”
Haruki swears he hears a little laugh, a tiny huff, so he squeezes his eyes shut to prepare to be ridiculed. Preparing to get his heart broken.
“What type of music do you play?” Akihiko asks instead, tone genuine and curious.
“Oh. Ah–“ Haruki straightens, gaze darting away nervously. Shit. He wouldn’t like his answer. He wouldn’t want to play stupid basic J-pop with him. He was cooler than that. Haruki assumed he’d prefer a more interesting genre – he played classical after all. “I, um…I like pop music,” he bites back an apology for his lameness.
“Hm,” is the only sound he makes and Haruki prepares to be rejected. He cautiously looks at Akihiko again and he has a small lopsided grin on his lips, “Cute.”
Oh god! His crush called him cute! Or maybe it was a dis, but his smile says otherwise so he’ll take it. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, trying to decide what to say next. “Um…What type of music do you like?” he asks, taking the conversational route.
“For drums? Metal.”
Ah! So cool! Haruki beams at him with sparkling eyes. He makes a mental note to listen to metal basslines when he gets home tonight.
“I’ll play with you.”
Haruki almost doesn’t hear him – too busy planning a route to the local music store to buy CDs on his way home. He blinks when his words register, a smile brightening his face, “Really?”
“Sure,” he shrugs, a hint of a grin blessing his features as well, “Tomorrow? After class.”
“Okay!” He’s maybe a bit too enthusiastic, but he’s so excited he might stay up all night practicing new basslines to impress Akihiko tomorrow. He doesn’t think this is what his teacher meant when he’d told him to find a drummer to help him improve, but he’ll call this a win. He peeks at his phone – noting that the music store will close in a few hours. “Ah, I have to go,” he shrugs his bass case higher on his back and smiles, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Akihiko!”
Akihiko props an arm against the doorframe and, dear god, it is too hot, “Bye, Haruki.”
He offers a small wave then starts off towards the exit, feeling light and dopey because he did it! He talked to Akihiko, and asked to play music with him. And even better, they had plans together tomorrow! Ah, his cheeks were hot again.
He’s giddy as he unlocks his bike and speeds off towards the music store. Skidding to a halt at the shop, he abandons his bike at the door with perhaps a bit too much trust in the general public. He’s there nearly every week, in fact, he greets the owner by name with a quick bow and wave before sifting through the rows of CD bins.
He should save his allowance money. He was planning on buying himself new strings this week, but this is more important. Impressing Akihiko was a priority! His strings would have to keep it together a little longer until he earned his chore money.
Scanning the bin genres, he settles himself in the “Metal” section – undiscovered territory thus far. He’s unsure of what to choose, taking a moment to peek at his phone for popular bands and albums. He sets aside a small stack, some popular and some chosen by the album art alone, taking them to the front desk with conviction.
“Hm,” the owner says, a slight smile on her face as she rings up his items, “A bit different than your usual taste.”
“Oh, ah~” Haruki wavers, embarrassed by the reason for his sudden interest, “I’m branching out!”
She chuckles warmly, “That’s good.” She tells him his total and slides the CDs in exchange for his meticulously counted bills and change.
“Thank you!” he beams, bowing again after shoving the CDs into the front pocket of his bass case. She waves him off and he reclaims his bike, thankfully still propped up outside the shop, and races home to make it in time for dinner lest his mother scold him again.
Desperately itching to go to his room, he doesn’t even care that his older sister steals the last katsu cutlet from under his chopsticks nor does he hear a single thing about his dad’s day at work. He scarfs down his food then excuses himself, quickly and loudly exclaiming “Homework! Bye!” as he scoots away from the table and sprints to his room.
He scrambles across the floor, digging the CDs from his bag and jamming the first one into his stereo. He finds his headphones tangled on the floor – fingers twisting and pulling at knotted cords till he can viably plug it in. He unzips his bass case too, retrieving his instrument. His strings really do need to be changed, but he pushes that thought aside as he settles cross-legged on the floor to listen and play.
The music is so much louder and faster than he expected. He’s heard metal before, of course he has, but hearing it in passing was much different from focused listening to pick out bars buried deep in the mix.
He understands why a drummer would like this; it’s bold and a flashy. He wonders if Akihiko is the same way. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was. It’s an intimidating prospect – Haruki’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up with him, but he’ll try. The way his eyes squeeze shut with focus and tries to find the right finger placement says he’ll try.
Haruki’s never played with anyone before – other than his teacher, that is. He’s carefully pushing those nerves to the side and focusing on his technique, hoping the skills he’s been building over the past couple of years will give him a good foundation. He wants to be good. He desperately want to be good for Akihiko.
He can’t discern how judgemental Akihiko will be, but he’s airing on the side of hopefulness. Haruki’s not bad by any means – his teacher has always held high praise for him. Still, he worries. He worries because he’s never heard anyone play violin like Akihiko did at that competition. Haruki didn’t sleep a wink the night following, resigning to staring at the ceiling as he thought about that song and those hands and the intense yet soft look on his face.
His own music can’t compare. He’s not sure if it ever will. He may be setting himself up for embarrassment tomorrow, to get his heart broken, but god it’s worth it. It’s worth it if it means getting to sit up close and watch Akihiko play – even if it’s only the one time. He can’t fathom what will happen beyond that. Tomorrow will be a turning point either way, so he’ll stay hopeful their relationship with blossom.
And that’s why he’s practicing so hard. It’s why his finger tips are red, why it’s nearly midnight, and why he’s going to show up tomorrow with his head held high and prove that he’s worthy.
It’s also the reason why he nearly passes out on the floor hunched over his bass. He jolts awake and decides to call it a night when he sees the ungodly time. He curses under his breath and sheds his bass, ditching it on the floor to silently crawl into bed – suddenly terrified that his mother will find out he’s still awake on a school night. He carefully peels off his uniform and drapes it somewhat neatly at the foot of his bed, praying he doesn’t have to use his backup tomorrow.
Thankfully he’s exhausted. It saves him from ruminating on his thoughts further, especially the ones spinning around the spark of hope he’s carrying for tomorrow. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the real reason he’s so nervous to play with Akihiko, the real reason he’s worried about being rejected, the real reason he wants to see him again. Tomorrow, and the day after, and after they graduate if he’s lucky.
That damn crush really did make everything worse.