the price to pay when you have a busy schedule though he isn’t really upset. large crowds are not really his thing so he much prefers this. helping clean up and being out of the way of everyone. he even waved off the help from a couple other baseball team mates. telling them to go have fun while they have the chance. he didn’t mind being the one to get it all put up. didn’t mind the muffled noise in the distance as he worked in quiet. finally managing to gather all the baseball gear into a box and start off to the storage.
maybe he should have paid closer attention to what was happening. glanced at the end schedule for the festival or listened when someone was talking about it. he would have been prepared for the startlingly loud noise that rocks the area. the box in his hands almost dropping as he flinches.
to say that eden had been nervous about the performance of his band would be an understatement. they’ve done a lot of gigs, but the stage they have been entrusted with this time was much larger than he had presumed. who was he kidding? of course it would be, the performance after theirs is literally an established idol group. somehow, being reminded of that fact didn’t make it any better. eden does like the idea of loving losers receiving the recognition he believes they deserve. his members, at the very least, should have their talents shown to the world.
as they stood before the crowd, mic merely inches from his lips, the strings of his guitar at the tip of his fingers—the realisation dawns on him; there are plenty of eyes and ears. a part of him considers closing his own for a little while, but that surely won’t help him in the slightest. so within that small timeframe he has to prepare before they turn on the spotlights, eden searches through the sea of people for one face in particular. almost like instinct. a habit that never seems to cease, no matter how hard he tries.
then, eden finds him, just like he always does. cory stands a little far off, as usual—but he’s there, a sight for sore eyes; a dim light within the overwhelming dark. somehow, eden sees cory. amidst everything that’s happening, whatever they are now; cory is watching him.
somehow, that fact alone is enough to calm his nerves, allows his lungs to expand and take in another breath, gives him the chance to recuperate. there’s that underlying feeling of guilt poking at him all so suddenly, telling him it’s wrong to take solace in cory’s presence when such a concept isn't mutual anymore. but eden thinks just this time, he’ll take what he can get.
besides, this is enough. seeing cory, knowing that he’s there—even if cory decides to leave before he finishes, or if all this goes through one ear and out the other—he can pull out every single flicker of emotion, the memories he had in the back of his mind and in the gallery of his cameras, all that they were and all that they aren’t now, weaving each aspect into the first song that they’ll be playing.
for a small moment, nothing short of four minutes at most, he can pour it all out for cory. like he should have long ago. like this is the chance he never took. just one song. he’ll say it’s his messed up way to ease his nerves, dedicating a single track to someone familiar instead of an intimidating crowd of strangers—but he’s also indulging in a desire he had been suppressing.
what cory doesn’t know won’t kill him. and all this? cory will never know. eden will stuff this instance into a pandora’s box of his own, not to be opened even as he ceases to exist. he doesn’t know whether cory can see the smile that’s playing on his lips now, a little melancholic in nature, accompanied by the slow melody and woeful lyrics, not tearing his gaze away from where cory stood. if cory noticed, it won’t be something they'll address.
and so the performance continues, moving onto a more upbeat rhythm—but that first blunder was enough to keep him steady on his feet. yet again, cory aids him in ways cory wouldn’t be able to comprehend himself. eden thinks it’s selfish of him, but he’ll make up for it by asking for nothing else. his band’s turn ends without a hitch; eden hears loud applause that he’s more than happy to share with the other members.
soon after, the concert begins. and then—boom. the fireworks follow. the loud and sudden blast of sound ringing through his ears jolts out a memory from the depths of his subconscious. an image of someone familiar, someone that he had just been looking at, crouching down with his ears covered.
it had been so easy for eden to drop whatever he had been doing ( which wasn’t even important, he had been done packing some time ago and was just listening to the concert from a safer distance ). he doesn’t hesitate when he begins tracing cory’s steps, aware of the other’s routine. if he’s remembering right, and eden trusts his memory if nothing else, then cory should be making his rounds to clean up.
and cory, never wanting to burden anyone else but himself, would be all on his own. subjecting himself to noises that terrify him with no one to ground him. maybe eden is acting out of place again, maybe cory will hate him even more for trying to break through the walls cory placed between them once again—but eden will live if cory despises him. on the other hand, eden won’t be able to face himself in the mirror if he had left cory completely and utterly alone.
so he runs; he chases after the shadow cory left behind.
the fireworks are already on full display once he reaches his destination, going off one after the other. even here, it’s loud. eden wastes no time in opening the door, albeit gently, not wanting to add salt to the wound. within this dimly lit storage room and the noises blasting against his eardrums; he finds cory, just like he had done earlier.
“cory,” he says, somewhat out of breath, but gentle despite it all. he closes the door behind him as he approaches, taking light steps. he doesn’t need to ask ‘are you okay?’ or ‘need some help?’ now. eden can already tell from a single glance—so instead, he takes action. he steps before the other, making sure that his face is within view. even if his own presence may not be as comforting as cory’s is to eden’s, he hopes seeing someone else here helps.
eden takes out his earphones, setting his phone to play a specific playlist, the same one that he had shared with cory all those years ago. whether cory remembers or not isn’t what’s important here. it doesn’t matter if cory realises that eden hadn’t deleted a single song, nor did he abandon it—this list of songs that he’d play for the other, the same one they’d listen to together, that he’d hum to cory as they sat idly by each other’s side. as if they were in their own little world. a treasure that he holds closest to his heart.
mustering his best reassuring smile, one cory would often see back in the day, eden lightly places both earbuds into cory’s ears, replacing the deafening racket with tender music, sweet and soft. eden gradually raises the volume just enough, not too high and not too low. for good measure, his hands remain pressed against cory’s ears.
this is the most physical contact that they’ve had in months. eden wonders, another selfish thought, whether cory can feel the rising tempo of his pulse. once again, he’s thinking silly things.
“a little better?” eden asks, mouthing the words properly so that cory can understand him even without the sound of his voice. then, he adds, “i’ll be here with you.” always, he leaves out, even though it is an absolute truth.
