Quiet Composer

Haruka Nanami. The composer's music speaks louder than her words. She hopes to see the smiles of those she adores most. { Indie RP blog - tracking 'harukananami' }

[harukananami]

ichinxse:

Eh–ah. He does not expect the pat on his head, as if he were a pet of sorts ( is that how she sees him? a silly thought to have, of course not, but it irks him nonetheless ). She takes her time getting on his back, which makes sense given her drunk state, but it’s slightly embarrassing to stay like that for a long time – just as he turns his head to urge her to hurry up, her arms slide around his neck ( warm, close ), her chin propped on his shoulder – the side he’d wanted to turn his head to; he freezes just in time, any further and his nose might’ve brushed against hers ( or worse, unthinkable, forbidden, his lips against– ); her breath tickles his neck, his ears, sends shivers down his spine. He turns back, swiftly, lest she sees how his cheeks flush hotly at the observation, the ( welcome ) touch. Were he a little faster to turn around, a little less cautious in his movements, he surely would’ve accidentally ( or not? ) –…

It’s a miracle his legs don’t sway with her weight suddenly pressing down on him; that he doesn’t lose his balance, but perhaps her husky encouragement gives him some sort of strength ( in all honesty, he’s never felt weaker than he does in this moment ) and he does as she says, manages to lift her off the ground with surprisingly little effort – she is light, as if that surprises him, as if he hadn’t noticed that already from the many times she’d accidentally bumped into him. “–Don’t fall asleep yet.” He says somewhat sternly – honestly, he wouldn’t know what to do were she to doze off right now; where should he take her? To her room? But it’d be wrong of him to enter without permission, not to mention that he’d have to leave her on her bed, so– to his room? No, the thought alone is inappropriate ( his face gets warmer still, his lips are tightly pressed together as if afraid to see what expression they’d make if he let them relax ); he can already imagine the gossip buzzing and the teasing of his friends, oh, he’d never hear the end of it – oh, he bets Ren would love to see this scenery now, how it’d amuse him. His expression grows more tense, he adjusts his grip on her legs so Nanami doesn’t slide down. Which brings him back to the legs, to the body, to the fact of her pressing against him, to her shape and her warmth and her breath and – ah, no, this is no good, perhaps he was wrong to suggest this after all, perhaps he’d overestimated his strengths – he certainly is weak, yes, very weak… and his ears are definitely red, very, very red… 

he thinks; it’s probably better if she does fall asleep. He thinks; I hope she falls asleep. I hope she doesn’t see my face – I hope she won’t remember anything of this.

Oh. She feels like she’s floating now that her feet aren’t on the ground. This is much easier. A happy smile settles on her lips. Her eyes are peacefully closed. Haruka didn’t know just how nice this would be. “You should’ve recommended this ages ago, Ichinose-san,” come relaxed words, soft. And she should have agreed to this ‘ages ago,’ too, but she was so insistent on succeeding in convincing them both that she was capable of getting back on her own two feet.

Haruka exhales from her nose noisily. She’s basically directing a small gust of wind straight against Tokiya’s ear. Haphazardly—; probably unpleasant in sensation, the sharp hiss of it, likely. Her arms go a little lax, fingers unfurl the slightest bit, and she feels the idol hunch forward to compensate so she doesn’t tip back (that wouldn’t be good for either of them; and more than either of them if anything should happen because of it).

“I won’t...” Sure she won’t. A reply of such few words of brevity are delayed by sleep being poured into her intoxicated mind. The lag isn’t very conducive for further conversing.

     Going..

Her legs bend a little at the knee as Tokiya walks. It’s like they’re keeping time.

                Going...

Lights of different colours coming off of the signs and buildings they pass by are soft against the inside of her eyelids. Warm reds, lighter golds, the occasional hotter, dark violet. Nothing is said between them. Her hearing is tuned out, even if he is addressing her.

                                Going...

Haruka’s forehead is against Tokiya’s head and soft locks of hair; side of her nose against the side of his neck. Lips touching the skin of his shoulder that his shirt exposes.

                                                             Gone.

Sleep consumes her. No more lights to be aware of. No noises. No voices intrude. Haruka slips into sleep gracefully, without much of a fight, even though she assured Tokiya of otherwise. The composer didn’t stand much of a chance, and leaves herself completely in the care of the idol whose wish she just so happens to grant.

[harukananami]

Hear

[ Characters: Nanami Haruka. Ichinose Tokiya.

Length: 750 words. ]

Music— wasn’t the only thing that Haruka could hear in complete silence.

Haruka’s life depended on two things: her hands and her ears. She thought of herself as someone who was diligent enough to watch her health. When ringing started in her ear, she didn’t notice it immediately—; only at night, once she ceased composing, and the music came to a stop.

Overly tired, overly dependent on pills to relieve her frequent headaches— this is what she believed was the cause of it. Momentary effects that would soon wear off.

She chose to keep it to herself, never wanting to burden the idols she composed for. Isolation kept her confident that the ringing was, indeed, all in her head; nothing that anyone else could hear.

She believed to have tuned it out, until one night, laying in bed, she thought that she had forgot to wind her grandmother’s cuckoo clock. It was funny, as she recalled doing that so vividly, not too long ago, but she couldn’t hear it. Staggering from bed, when she wanted only to succumb to sleep’s sweet refrain, she discovered that she’d been wrong. Wrong, in that— she had wound it. It was ticking. Softly.                                   —She simply couldn’t hear it.

Her hearing was going. Her hearing— something that her livelihood depended on. Her hearing—- something that connected her to others. Music… something that her happiness hinged on… was leaving her.

The first couple of months of her decline were without a doubt the most difficult. The first person she had revealed it to was Tokiya, who accompanied her to appointments; his frown grew with each visit, with each report that her hearing was deteriorating, when each attempt to assess the composer caused her increasing distress, for even the loudest of sounds were starting to become inaudible; lost in a slurry of silence. They’d return home, hand in hand—; hers trembling in his. He never said a word, for what words could reach her ears, anymore.

Her skill for lip-reading was lackluster at its peak. She could do it, but for something like a song, so much musical technique slipped by her, like satin ribbon falling from lifeless, limp hands. Shining Agency had given her generous sick leave, as she became adjusted, though with so much of her work dependent on her ears, what would become of her position was up in the air.

“It will be fine, since it’s you, Nanami-san.” Tokiya’s words were spoken softly, but with clear movements, so they could be visually read and untangled.

“You’re right, Ichinose-san,” she returned. Her words were sloppily spoken with forgotten sounds; foreign to familiar ears.

It wasn’t very difficult for anyone to tell that she was frightened, as music had done so much for her. Having that suddenly taken away… was like leaving her in a snowstorm that was unrelentingly blinding. She never received an answer, for why music, and sound itself, had abandoned her.

Her enjoyment of music had changed drastically. Now and again, Tokiya would indulge her by allowing her to rest her hands on his neck, to feel the vibrations of a song. It brought a smile to her face, and tears to her eyes.      —Visuals could only provide her so much information. By feeling the music, in this way, she felt that much more connected to the song itself. It was as if it wasn’t a foreign thing to her. No underlying medical cause was explained, other than spontaneous tinnitus, followed by hearing loss, and finally deafness.

“—I have something for you, Nanami-san,” Tokiya announced on her final day off before she would return to work.

And he stood in front of her.

               ♪— Do you remember, princess…                                                                                                      … — ♪

His hands sang; fluttering from gesture to gesture, he signed the lyrics to her, a solemn smile on his face. Just as she had learned in her days spent absent from the agency, Tokiya, too, had devoted his nights to picking up sign language as quickly as he could, so that he could give her the gift of a song, once more.

And Haruka, the sole member of his audience, sat on a chair a few feet away from him, with her hands clasped firmly over her mouth. Small sobs slipped through Haruka’s fingers as the song went on, even amidst the imperfections of Tokiya’s signs.

Silent applause was given—Haruka’s hands barely having the strength to strike each other with substantial force,

                                                        but the motions were there.

[harukananami]

ichinxse:

He wonders if she truly is as oblivious to her charm as she acts. No – he does assume that she is oblivious, to an extent. He also assumes she is acting a little more bolder than she would otherwise, regarding how she touches him almost without reserve. It’s almost frustrating to have her ask him what is wrong – he does glance her way when she speaks, he almost has to. He doesn’t want to answer that question – in fact, she shouldn’t have asked, as he shouldn’t answer. He won’t. “Nothing. I am just worried.” He musters a calm, patient smile for her, a rare expression only his friends get to see. It costs him little effort to maintain the same expression when she quickly pulls away in her surprise – perhaps the offer has made her a little more aware of herself, of the situation she is in. 

“I think you are more likely to hurt yourself than I am.” He retorts, not meant as a critique, its is merely an observation (maybe there’s a little bit of critique, though, but it would be unreasonable of him to scold her for getting carried away tonight – after all, it isn’t as if he is–…). His voice does have a bit of a sharp edge to it, as if irritated, a tone that wasn’t meant to slip in. He quickly tries to redeem himself by assuring her she is not a burden, that he is not troubled at all (maybe he is, a little, but that has more to do with his state of mind than having to bring her back to the academy). “Don’t worry. It is not that far, and we will make it back faster like that. You should rest up soon, too.” He turns her back towards her and kneels down, because even if she were to protest, he won’t hear it. Tokiya doubts she’d refuse after watching him offer his back, too. She’s too dazed. She’s too kind for that, too. He would have to carry her, touch her, but at least – at least he won’t have to keep looking at her, it will be far much easier to focus.

It’s true that Haruka is oblivious. Truly, a child. For only a child would be so unaware of their effect on those around them, just as Haruka is now with her effect on Tokiya. As comfortable as she is around him, there’s no way, under normal circumstances, that she’d be this expressive with her touch (not to say that it’s anything bold or bordering on licentious—; she retains the majority of her decency). Indeed, her slight drunkenness has made her more agreeable. A little less self-conscious of these things— the things that she’s normally very mindful of, in a way.

As the pair stop walking, Haruka unwinds herself from Tokiya’s arm entirely. Her index finger twirls around the thin leather strap of her handbag. A frown is apparent. Her lips are downturned.

“Don’t worry, Ichinose-san.” Mumbled with a little pout. If Haruka had it her way, she’d still be sitting at the bar, with her head resting on the table, joyfully unaware of her surroundings. Out of it.

She quickly rebounds from her prior statement, though. She does, indeed, protest when he proceeds. “No, it’s fine. I’m fi—“ but her complaint is lagged, her plea unheard (there’s no convincing him of that anyways), and by the time she stops herself short of the full statement, Tokiya is already kneeling before her.

And his stance is... kind of funny. He’s crouching, kneeling, normally—; nothing about that is innately funny, but the fact that Tokiya is going that far to get her to comply coaxes a smile out of her; any hint of meekness is swiftly forgotten.

But all he does is patiently wait for her, because he knows that she won’t say no. She can’t. She’s in no position to. Would she, even—? Haruka’s cheeks are still red, and her lips are pressed into a thin line when she accepts it at last, that she needs his help. She approaches him, and dainty pianist fingers thread themselves through his hair, giving a soft pat, pat. “Ichinose-san...” She drops what would’ve been a compliment about his kindness, and trails off, morphing into something new. “...Your hair is soft.” What, was she expecting his cowlicks to feel spiky to the touch?

Her hands smooth down his hair to rest on his shoulders as she begins to crouch behind him. This only lasts a moment, before her arms wrap snuggly around his neck— hands clasping together, so she won’t lose her grip. She settles her weight against him; her chest presses against his back (he’s warm, she notes somewhere in the back of her mind), and her chin is perched comfortably on his shoulder; a nuzzling motion. Warmly, into his left ear, then, when she’s sure he’ll soon stand, “Nnn... Lift with your knees, Ichinose-san…”

[harukananami]

ichinxse:

“I see.” His hunch was correct, then. But good luck – why would she need high heels for that? Besides, a meeting does not depend as much on luck as it does on hard work. And Tokiya knows she always works hard, always tries her best, always pushes herself to do even better. She must have been really anxious, to change her attire and usual get-up for this meeting. He still can’t help but feel anxious himself, too. About Ren and Otoya being present. About them hanging out with her like this, about them drinking together, about them seeing her behave like this – he knows Ren, especially, would use this opportunity to shower her with compliments. Haruka isn’t aware of how much of an effect she has on the idols she composes for, but Tokiya is all too aware of their – affection for Haruka.  Perhaps he’s being too delusional, of course. Perhaps it is because he finds her – well, because he sees her as someone special, that he thinks everyone else must feel the same. But at the same time… Otoya is transparent as ever. Cecil has openly admitted his attraction for Haruka. Ren might come off as casual when he flirts with her, but Tokiya can tell there might be something more than just wanting to tease the ‘little lamb’. He’s definitely paying too much attention to these little things, for sure. Like how he’s paying too much attention to her right now. Like how his body is too ridiculously aware of how close she is to him. Or how he keeps noticing how flushed her cheeks are, how sultry her voice sounds now that Haruka is not her usual self ( he would not mind having her use that voice to speak to him, just him – no, wrong. that’s wrong. ). Her bashful behaviour isn’t helping, either.  He – feels like, wanting to reach out and… do something far more outrageous than carrying her. But he won’t, he won’t. Not here. Not now. Not like this. This isn’t right. ( but she called your name and her arm is touching his body her finger is grazing his shirt shes not looking at you but you can tell that she wants to, if you would only look at her you know it would be simple it would be so simple, she doesn’t look like she would mind she –)

This isn’t right.

“Let’s.” He manages to force the words out of his throat, he masks his hesitation and embarrassment with a cough – his throat does feel dry, he swallows before hoisting her a little closer, making it easier for her to lean on him. But let’s not take too long, either. That – wouldn’t be a good idea. That definitely wouldn’t be a good idea. He can’t look at her. It isn’t right to look at her. He – shouldn’t look at her. He won’t. He will. Just – in a moment. In a moment. Then, an idea. “I– could carry you on my back.”

Haruka is still a little hazy; still harbouring some nerves about her current state. She wishes to reapply her lipstick, for peace of mind, if not for anything else. Her hand would be steady enough, probably, but she doesn’t want Tokiya to see her actively trying to fix herself up, and so she refrains. It’s unlikely that it’s really rubbed off too badly. It’s not called ‘long-wear’ for nothing, right?

It’d be a lie if she said that walking wasn’t effortful. Now that they’ve walked a little, and they’re not passing so many people anymore, she can tell how much she’s holding Tokiya back— how slow he must go, just to accommodate her. “I’m sorry…” Forgetting to change her apologies for thank-yous once again. She lets out a little squeak, an exclamation of surprise, as he hoists her closer. Haruka is jostled by the action; her feet take a series of small, shuffling steps as she leans on him. It could almost be classified as a small collision, had Tokiya not been expecting it—though surely he had. Her cheek is pressed against his arm. A few strands of pink hair have bounced up with the actions to rest coarse material.

“Ichinose-san… what’s wrong?” Comes her hesitant voice. The tone is still so warm and inviting; there’s an exhale, as she adds on the suffix to his name.

Her own arms have slipped a little down his forearm; one rests about halfway down from his elbow, and the other lower yet, on his wrist—; her fingertips brush the hem of his sleeve, and her nails (painted a fresh, glossy coat to match her attire), graze his skin at an uneven frequency. She’s lost a little bit of what registers as personal space, and the intrusion of it.

Upon hearing his suggestion, she’s taken aback. Him… carry her? A hand—the one by Tokiya’s wrist—retracts, and she brings it up to cover her mouth, and a bit of her face. She’s blushing, and this time, it’s not the alcohol’s doing.

Her other hand squeezes his arm, gently. She wants to let him off the hook. Haruka shakes her head, subtly to decline. She’s not sure how insistent he’s going to be, but she certainly doesn’t want him to feel obligated.

“You don’t have to… —to do something like that, Ichinose-san. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

[harukananami]

[harukananami]

ichinxse:

Her reaction is rather uncharacteristically whiny, and uttered in an incredibly whiny tone – such a sound, he is certain, is one he’s never heard come from her lips. He finds himself struggling to swallow down a chuckle, only the corner of his lips curve slightly, before his more neutral expression returns. “Yes, now.” Regardless, a hint of amusement lingers in those words. What he can’t resist, is to pat her lightly on the head as to encourage the petulant child, as to praise her for being such an obedient girl. Her smudged make-up doesn’t exactly help, either – and since when does she act and dress so feminine? or is mature the better word? did she want to put an effort in feeling as old as she is, perhaps? has Shibuya encouraged her to do this? Tokiya is left with plenty of questions, all of which will hopefully be answered on the morrow ( Ren and Otoya will have a taste of hell, that much is certain ). He cannot say the high heels and makeup do not suit her, but he feels his chest tightening painfully at the thought of Haruka eagerly dressing up for a night out where he did not partake in. And the smile she gives to the bartender suddenly doesn’t please him all that much, either. He hurriedly pushes her a little faster out of the door, giving the man behind the counter no chance to react to her goodbye. A childish reaction, Tokiya realises the moment they’re out in the cold. They stand still in front of the exit, with his gaze glancing down at her smudged face. Well, at least you can’t say her look is alluringly feminine anymore. Next, he glances down at her heels, and frowns. “Are those shoes yours, Nanami-san?” She owns a few pair of heels, yes, but they’re usually fairly easy to walk in. More a low heel than a high heel. What she’s wearing now are definitely high heels, though. And he suspects she has little experience walking with them ( given the fact that Tokiya doesn’t immediately  recognise the pair ). “If it is too difficult to walk, you should take them off.” I shall carry you. He almost says that. But that may be inappropriate, and unnecessary. Then again, he doesn’t like her dirtying her feet or socks, and she might step on sharp stones on their way back… Perhaps it would be better to take a taxi. Then again – if the headmaster finds out about this little outing, he’s not certain what’ll happen. With Haruka, it’s less of an issue, yet Ren and Otoya had been present as well. They’re lucky to have sneaked back in ( how on earth had they managed that, though, and how on earth could they have forgotten about Nanami ) without anyone noticing, otherwise the media would be all over them.

“Tomo-chan lent them to me... for good luck, with the meeting.” She’ll have blisters, tomorrow, but it’s worth it, in her eyes. The clients were serious, and she didn’t want to come across as childish. She did it for their sake—Otoya, Ren... they’re already so mature, in appearance. She’s aware that by comparison, she looks much more like a child. Haruka felt like she had something to prove, both attending a meeting and then the bar. So Tomochika’s advice had been to dress the part, and act confidently, in accordance to the look. If she owned it, then she’d be as good as gold. Her buzz doesn’t allow her to process whether or not she’s achieved it. —-Tokiya clearly wasn’t buying it. Haruka really wouldn’t mind seeming a bit more mature, in his eyes. Sure, she’s a little worse for wear, but she’s ashamed that Tokiya has to take care of her. Haruka doesn’t want him to be that kind of figure.

   Still though, if it has to be someone, she’s overwhelmingly glad that it’s him.

“I-Ichin—” Her arms coil around him a little tighter. She half-calls his name, fearing that she’d fall, but at most, Haruka’s legs give a wobble. It’s not too threatening; she can walk, if they go slow. “No...” In a whisper. She looks up at him with wet eyes (though not with ones threatening to tear). She doesn’t want to take her shoes off. She’s clinging to any shreds of dignity she may still have. “Can we...” A sheepish glance to the side. Her cheeks are still flushed, she realizes as cool air breezes by them. Haruka fears making eye contact, for she doesn’t know what Tokiya’s eyes will say—- something that he won’t utter with words? Her thumb idly brushes against the material of his sleeve. “...Let’s.. take our time... getting back.” So that she won’t fall, first and foremost, but also because spending more time with Tokiya isn’t necessarily something she’s opposed to.

[harukananami]

   Happy New Year!

      I... kind of want to try making a little return here! Keyword: try. I’m a flaky little pastry. Not sure how many people are around or active.. but ah.. anyone up for some writing? Not sure if people want to go back to old threads... but ah... Shoot me a message if you want to brainstorm! Or maybe leave a like/reply here if you’re fine with a short starter? Cheers! 

[harukananami]

            My heart feels warm.

[ranmarock-blog]

                                         Look I love these guys.                                 I’m terribly sorry for the lame graphic.    Anyways, these are people I love with all my heart and are all awesome and                      amazing people that I’m more than glad I have in my life.

A very special spot to a lovely girl and algjelkgj. The keyboard smashing sums up my feelings. @tomohime Listen, I love Mei. Ya’ll can fight me. I’d marry her if I could. We’re already married shh and soul mates of some form. I’ve said it before I’ll say it again: I’m so happy things worked out the way they did. Insert dramatic story telling here: You came back from your hiatus and I had just reset and all and on that one day I was bored. Because I never would have gotten to talk to you like we do and meet such an amazing person. I’ve loved getting to talk to you and getting to know you. Staying up till 5 am talking , watching stuff together, and just everything. I love. You’re talented and a cutie and I hope everything you want works out for you this year. Your Tomochika is fucking amazing and don’t ever think differently or let anyone tell you different. The only Tomo for me and Ran forever and always. Look at how far out babies have come. ahh. Hand over heart.

For the people that have been around in this fandom with me since I started back in 2011…It’s been so long. We are old. Or atleast have been around for many years with me because it means a lot that you guys are still around and we still talk and are still friends. First of all. Isu. @clowntypeidol -The first person I met in this fandom. One of them anyways. Amazing person I love her with everything. My adopted daughter. Love you Isu! @heartlessvoice , @musical–android , @earlsenpai , @ask-kurusu-syo , @kamyyu

And to the people that are always special no matter what, or I have gotten a chance to talk to more or just in general and I regret nothing because you’re all amazing people and I love you guys a lot and I hope you guys stick around  with me! <33 @appxssionato , @supcrbi , @sweets-so-sweet , @shiningspriing , @seixn , @resxnantmelodies , @agriosanemos , @seraphxx , @naivecomposer , @magnusxgentem , @kisaragi-aine , @harukananami , @nikomatas

Happy New Years to you guys and everyone that follows me! Hope you all have a great year. Wash your hands of 2016. (God knows i’m going to.)

[harukananami]

kamyyu replied to your post

that can be either a siq burn or just an innocent reference to the song/temp… well played….

let’s call it a siq burn unless myuchan is willing to warm me up

[harukananami]

kamyyu replied to your post

chill like kamyu :^) ajsghdhs

     i don’t think my body can handle being at absolute zero-- -

[harukananami]

kamyyu replied to your post

chill & take ur time :’)

      y-yeah but..

[harukananami]

         “I’m back”-- I say just as fleetingly as the duration of my time here was.

[ichinxse-deactivated20201126]

Ah – she took that serious? Not that he’s opposed to the idea, or anything, but isn’t that a bit too much?  “Ah. No, that is–” He doesn’t want to sound ungrateful, though. He would be delighted, but to give her even more work… “–It was… a joke.” A sheepish, somewhat guilty smile. “You shouldn’t push yourself like that, Nanami-san.”

[harukananami]

Slight frown. Of course she’s serious. --But apparently he is not. Tokiya joking is such an unlikely combination. “I could play for you! Would you like that, Ichinose-san?” Piano. That gift requires no additional effort like a song would, yet it’s still something heartfelt. Perhaps it’s even more filling than a meal-- - something for only his ears to hear.

[ichinxse-deactivated20201126]

“I expected a new song to work on, of course.”

[harukananami]

“A song?” An idea.

“We could discuss song plans over dinner.” Home-cooked, of course.

[harukananami]

#is this what u give him for his bd chloe??? losing a competition???? god dammit #how daRE

[harukananami]

Look at your door, now back to your desk, now at your door. There is a leg seductively sticking through the crack. Look at the floor, now back to the door: There is a single finger, becoming you. Chances are that your work is probably not at alluring and as fun as that leg and finger coming through the door, but if put down the work and follow the sexy limbs calling out to you, you could have the time of your life. Look at your work, now back to the door: He's getting away.

   There’s a reason Haruka tries not to stay up working all night (but finds herself regularly failing at it)-- - this is precisely why. Now her eyes are playing tricks on her, and it’s difficult to tell whether or not it’s something her imagination conjured up. ‘That’s impossible,’ she thinks, ‘there’s really no one there.’

She gives her head a shake, closes her composition notebooks, turns off her desk lamp, and decides that it’s probably best to forget about that leg and call it a night.