☀️ @sapphicsunfox - Tumblr Blog

Nov 7, 2023

A/N: For the @givenseasonszine! As probably the only one who wants a happy ending for these two, I have to make my own food.

…

First movement:

You don’t play the violin anymore.

When Ugestu thought about it, really sat down and thought about it, that observation was the beginning of the end. The moment when his and Akihiko’s relationship unraveled, when he’d first realized just how deeply they were tied together.

But he was a coward and that was precisely why he never thought about it, stowing the thought neatly away in the corner of his mind.

Cadenza

Ugetsu slid his bow across the violin, the movement as effortless and smooth as breathing. The high C cut through the air, lingering as it reverberated off the soundproof walls of his basement apartment. For a moment, he closed his eyes and listened, let the sound fill him to the brim.

The note dissipated. “It sounds off,” he murmured. The piece sounded shallow, hollow almost. He pressed down on another string, slid the bow across, but the feeling remained. Turning around, he asked, “Aki, what do you—”

The space behind him was empty, his practice partner nowhere in sight. Ugetsu’s lips parted softly as he remembered what he shouldn’t have forgotten: Aki was gone.

Aki had finally left.

There wouldn’t be any duets, not anymore. Lifting his violin once more, Aki started the piece over from the beginning.

He would just have to get used to the hollow sound.

Adagio

The fridge was empty. Ugetsu squeezed his eyes shut before slowly reopening them. Nope, that hadn’t changed a thing. Stray bottles littered the shelves: ketchup, a half-finished bottle of soya sauce, expired mayo. If he were fully honest, he wasn’t surprised by this fact. The kitchen had always been Aki’s purview, whether it was the early morning breakfasts or the late-night snacks.

Undeterred, Ugetsu yanked open the cupboards. A forgotten cereal sat in one and an unopened jar of jam in yet another. A lone mug sat on the top shelf, forcing Ugetsu on his toes as he tried to grab it. Aki must have put it there, forgetting just how short he was. Or perhaps it was on purpose, a last ditch dig at him.

“The least he could have done was put everything at human height,” Ugetsu grumbled, dragging over a chair as he gave up. His ex-lover liked to lord it over him sometimes, his lips curled into a smug smirk as he stared down at him.

It had been so easy to undo that smirk, to unravel Aki like he was loosening a string on a violin. A single kiss, a lingering touch, the briefest brush of skin and the man would bite his lip and tremble. Ugetsu’s prize would be claimed on the nearest flat surface.

Today’s prize was a single, unbroken coffee mug. Ugetsu slipped his fingers around the cool ceramic and slowly stepped down off the chair. Going to the coffee maker, he stared perplexed at the assortment of coffee flavours. At least there was only one way to use the machine. Randomly, Ugetsu picked one of the flavours and started off the machine.

It tasted bitter, but that was the point.

Decrescendo

“Ugetsu.” The man beside him breathed out his name, his hands gripping Ugetsu’s shoulders urgently. Bending down, he planted a kiss on his neck. Compared to the chilly spring air, his breath was hot. “Hurry.”

Ugetsu resisted the urge to roll his eyes. True, he had intended for things to reach this point, had teased and flirted with his bandmate until he was blue in the balls, but it wouldn’t be remiss for him to have a little more control, would it? To at least hold himself together until they were in the apartment.

Then again, Aki used to be frantic too sometimes, his—Ugetsu wasn’t going to think of him.

No, Ugestu was going to focus on the viola player behind him, the man who played so poorly it wasn’t worth remembering his name. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he dragged his lover downstairs to his bed. There was a certain sense to it all, the same as playing the violin. He scraped his nails across his ribs, like a bow across the strings, listening to the sounds made. Trying and failing not to compare them to Aki. Trying and failing not to remember how Aki used to play him, the cold metal studs brushing his skin as his ex (and that was important, to remember the ex, to remember that that wasn’t supposed to mean anything) had peppered him with kisses.

The basement was cold, trapped in a perpetual winter, but not even the extra body warmed it up. It seemed playing the viola wasn’t the only thing his bandmate failed at.

Pianissimo

“I’m surprised you agreed to this,” his manager, Natsume, said, a wry grin on his face. Standing in the hallway, he swiped his card on the door and pushed it open. “I thought you were going to say no again.”

“You were the one pushing for a world tour,” Ugetsu muttered flatly, stepping into the plush hotel room. Before him sprawled a living room, filled with comfy couches and a hideous carpet. He dropped his jacket unceremoniously on the floor as he padded further in. “This is what you wanted.”

“Well, yes, but…” Natsume pulled in Ugetsu’s suitcases, dragging them to the adjoining bedroom. “I’ve been asking for almost a year. I didn’t think you’d actually say yes this time. I thought it wasn’t your thing.” Turning around, he cocked his head curiously. “What changed your mind?”

The rock magazines that piled in Ugetsu’s room, thumbed through briefly. The pictures of Aki and Haru on his feed. They were fucking now, he just knew it. Could tell by the possessive curl of Aki’s hand around Haru’s wrist, a tell-tale blush on the bassist’s ears. Aki was happy, it seemed.

Happier than he’d been for the past two years.

(But not as happy as when they’d first met. Everyone told one lie to themselves, and that was his: Aki would never be as happy as when they’d dated)

And Ugetsu had gotten what he’d wanted. He’d made this decision years ago; he couldn’t be sad about it.

“The basement is cold,” he said instead, flopping on the couch.

“Oh.” Natsume nodded knowingly. “Yeah, basements are like that—but it’s spring, right? It’ll get warmer soon.”

“It won’t,” Ugetsu stated softly, closing his eyes.

Concerto

The spotlight was bright, blindingly so. Ugestu could barely make out the shapes of people as they filled row after row in the hall, their jaws slack as he gently pressed down on a string and made the violin sing. Not that it mattered. Up here on the stage, there was only him and the music. One by one, he plucked notes from the air, breathing life to piece. The orchestra backed him up, their sounds mixing in with his own, but still his violin stood above them all.

This, this was his calling. His raison d’etre.

The thunderous applause after was only to be expected. Ugetsu smirked, bowing once, before stepping off the stage—

Piu

—and if the stage filled him, leaving it left him empty. His dressing room was vacant, no awkward drummer looking uncomfortably big as he slouched in a chair, an overly proud smile on his face as though it had been him on the stage and not Ugetsu. No heated teasing as Ugetsu loosened his collar, as slowly as possible to drive Aki mad. The wine by the mirror had only one glass beside it now, just as his apartment only had one mug.

There was something unbelievably lonely about it all. Ugetsu had wanted this. They had been losing themselves in each other, the boundary between Aki and himself blurring to nonexistence. Music was all he needed, really.

But he couldn’t play the violin 24/7, couldn’t stand on the stage endlessly.

Maybe he’d been wrong about it all, maybe there’d been a midpoint that he could have reached. But there was no point in thinking this; it was too late now to say sorry and forgive me and please take me back.

Like the monkey’s paw, he’d made a wish. He couldn’t take it back.

Fermata

“What brings you back to Japan?” From across the table, the interviewer smiled winningly at him, looking like a cheap Barbie doll. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve had a whirlwind tour of the world that stretched from one year to four. Are you taking a break from it all or is this just the next leg?”

The insult was on the tip of his tongue. Standing in a corner of the room, Natsume shook his head furiously, his arms crossed in front of him like an X, pleading him to not give a barbed compliment. It would be easy, so easy, to do so. Cruelty became of Ugetsu, after all.

Still. It was the last question. Another word and he’d be done. Glancing outside the office window, he studied the skeleton trees, the soft green buds just starting to show. “Another tour is in the works,” he answered succinctly. “It’s spring. I wanted to see the cherry blossoms.”

It wasn’t an answer, not really, but he got up before she could protest. As he walked out, he heard Natsume thank the interviewer profusely, no doubt bowing multiple times. He’d always been cowardly like that. Not bothering to wait for his manager, Ugetsu headed down the hall to the elevator. His place was probably dusty from misuse. Maybe he should have a maid clean it.

Or maybe he should just sell it off. There was nothing of value in it, especially if he was going to leave on yet another tour after this. It was a waste of money to keep it. The elevator dinged and lost in his thoughts, he stepped inside.

“Ugetsu?”

And that shocked utterance of his name, that almost breathless gasp, yanked him to the present. Glancing to his side, his eyes widened as he realized he was standing next to Aki. The elevator doors slide shut. “Aki?”

“Ah.” Recovering, Aki gave him an awkward smile. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re back.”

Ugetsu didn’t respond, taking in his ex. God, Aki still towered over him, his frame so big it felt like it could crush him. His hair was still cropped short, random spikes that felt more haphazard than planned. While he was wearing a suit, it looked sloppily forced on, the tie loose and crooked, the jacket wrinkled. As expected, he still didn’t like formal wear. If anything changed, it was the lines on his face, the crinkle brow as he smiled.

Aki looked like a man who smiled more often.

Ugetsu wished he could say the same of himself. For a brief moment, he panicked internally, trying to remember what he looked like this morning. Good, he hoped. At one point, that wouldn’t have been a question—his appearance was as effortless as his playing. But now…now he wasn’t certain. He’d lost weight, he knew. His face looked a little worn. Hopefully, none of that was readily apparent—if Aki was as observant as he used to be, his eyes would just slide right past that.

Aki was still looking at him expectantly. Finding his tongue, Ugetsu nodded. “Yeah.”

Fortunately, Aki didn’t look too off-put by the delayed response. “Last leg of the tour?”

No. “Yes,” Ugetsu found himself saying. “What are you here for?”

“An interview.” Aki grimaced, hunching slightly at the memory. “It’s freaking stuffy.”

That explained the suit. The band must be successful now. Ugetsu tore his eyes away and faced the front. “Don’t act so shocked—you’ve seen my interviews. You should have been prepared for that.”

Silence filled the elevator. Had he been too harsh? How were they supposed to interact, now that they didn’t have a relationship, romantic or otherwise? Aki snorted and involuntarily, Ugetsu looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“Just forgot that wicked tongue of yours.” Aki cackled, his shoulders shaking.

Should I remind you? He wanted to ask, wanted to push him against the elevator and bruise his lips. Part of him wanted to be cruel, to watch that laugh dissolve into something more broken. To see if Aki hurt at all the way he had for the past four years.

But more than that, he was tired of it all. There was no need to be cruel anymore, Aki was gone and he was alone and that was the whole point of it. “That was just a fact,” he said instead, resting his hands at his side.

“True enough.” Aki laughed. “I was always slow to learn.”

At one point, that would have sounded depreciative, full of self-loathing. But there was none of that today, just a sheepish smile and soft eyes. The jealous part of Ugetsu whispered that that bassist must have changed him.

The truthful part realized it wasn’t just who he was dating, but the band itself. More importantly, it was the distance between them.

They’d been terrible to each other. He’d known that, but it was another thing to see it. Aki looked like he had when they’d first met, like he had before they’d broken. Maybe he was even happier.

“Clearly,” he answered, forcing sharpness into his voice, fixing his expression into a blank one.

The elevator dinged as it stopped on the third floor and Aki straightened. “Well, that’s my stop.” As he stepped off, Ugetsu stared at his left hand. No longer hidden by the rest of Aki’s hulking body, he could see the violin case in his hand.

“You’re playing the violin again?” Ugetsu asked, unable to stop himself.

“Hmm?” Aki looked surprised before remembering the violin in his hands. “Yeah. Might not be at your standards, but…” He grinned. “I’m having fun with it.”

You don’t play the violin anymore.

Unbidden, he remembered that first observation, that first realization.

They really were broken up. They really were moving apart. Aki had already started walking down his new path, away from him.

Part of him felt sad. Part of him felt happy.

“That’s good,” he said truthfully.

Most of him just felt abandoned.

The doors slid shut before Aki could respond and Ugetsu slid down against the elevator wall, overwhelmed.

(Everyone had a lie that they told themselves, and his was this: that he wasn’t lonely.)

As the elevator hit the ground floor, he unfolded his limbs and stood up. Compartmentalizing all of his feelings, he stepped out of the elevator and strode quickly across the lobby. Outside, the wind was warm, the last dredges of winter finally forgotten.

It was a nice day. Maybe he’d walk back to his place.

Second movement

You’re playing the violin again?

Aki stared at the closed elevator doors, at where his ex had been standing just minutes ago. The shock on his face, the quiver of his voice—for all of his walls, Ugetsu’s body so easily betrayed him. Up until this moment, Aki hadn’t thought that Ugetsu had cared about his playing aside from the occasional practice session.

“Aki!” Ritsuka poked his head out of a room down the hall. Annoyed, he glared at him. “You’re late.”

“Right, right.” Aki stared at the elevator one last time before running down the hall.

Molto vivace

Sitting cross-legged, Aki flipped through the pages and pages of sheet music Mafuyu had composed. At this point, he didn’t know if he should be impressed or concerned with the way the singer was churning out songs. “He isn’t going to stop, is he?”

“Nope. That’s a genius for you.” Haruki smiled fondly as he sat down across from him, handing him a mug of coffee. Sipping his own cup, he studied the lyrics. “At least the songs are happy these days.”

“That’s Ritsuka’s influence.” Aki smirked, tapping on a line about fumbling hands and heated kisses. “That one is definitely out of experience.”

“No wonder he gets so embarrassed whenever Mafuyu talks about a new song.” Haruki sighed, his ears a little red as read through the song. Looking a little peevish, he flipped the page. “It’s like reading an update on their relationship.”

“That’s why you don’t date the lyricist.” His smirk grew wider as he thought of their next practice. It was too easy, he had to admit, but he could only hold back so far. Mafuyu’s songs were like red cape, begging him to charge through and use them.

Catching his expression, Haru frowned. “I know that look. Don’t tease him.” When Aki raised a brow, he sighed and relented. “Fine, but go easy, okay?”

“Of course.” Aki decided not to mention they had two different definitions of easy.

“I’m just glad the media hasn’t caught on yet.” Haruki grimaced. “Can you imagine if the interviewers asked? Ritsuka would flip.”

“We’d be on an apology tour,” Aki agreed, remembering the interview they had last week. It was always a close one with Ritsuka, oddly enough, his short temper occasionally flaring up when a particularly embarrassing question was asked. Even the start—

You’re playing the violin again?

Aki stopped short as he remembered meeting Ugetsu. He still hadn’t told anyone. It had been awkward enough for him to meet his ex, let alone to tell other people about it. And even if he did, he wasn’t sure what he’d say. Unexpectedly, it hadn’t been painful. It hadn’t been sad or even angry. It had just been and perhaps that was what time did, ease the heartache and memories enough that they could stand in an elevator, chatting like they were old acquaintances and not ex-lovers.

Then again, maybe it could have always been that easy. He glanced at Haruki, still flipping through the lyrics, looking a cross between curious and guilty. Their relationship had taught him many things—how easy it was to love, how fun music could be. How breakups didn’t have to be painful. After it all, they had slipped back into old patterns of friendship.

He’d forgotten, while with Ugetsu, that pain didn’t have to be the default. He’d forgotten how easy it had all been in the beginning, when they were still in highschool and dating.

“Hey, Haru,” Aki asked, watching his friend. “Is it strange that I’m playing the violin?”

“Huh?” Haruki blinked, processing the question. After a few seconds, he scrunched his face funny, still trying to understand. “What’s that about? Did the interviewer ask?”

“No.” Aki rested his jaw on his clasped hands. “Just wondering.”

Haruki didn’t look for a second that he was buying it, but he shrugged and let it go. “I mean, at first, yeah. I didn’t think you were really into it. But now…not really? You love the violin, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Aki looked down at the sheet music, at Mafuyu’s passion for Ritsuka and music overflowing from the paper. It had felt so complicated, long ago in the basement, but nothing was simpler. He loved the violin. He loved music. “I do.”

He remembered the slightly dead look in Ugetsu’s eyes, the thinness of his wrists, and maybe Ugetsu had forgotten that now too.

Crescendo

There were many things Aki would do for his band: late practices, moral support, social networking updates. All important, vital things to keep the band relevant and increase the fanbase. Even during the interviews he loathed, he’d grin and bear it.

The one thing he refused to handle was Ritsuka and Mafuyu’s relationship issues and the second Mafuyu came into the practice room, all teary-eyed, he’d shoved Haruki at him and bolted. Whatever it was, the problem would be solved in a day or two—he’d never seen Ritsuka stay mad for longer than that; the boy couldn’t handle Mafuyu’s tears any better than he could.

Besides, the band needed tea and snacks and other supplies and someone had to make sure they were stocked. At the very least, he had to keep the tissue box supply up. Honestly, it was helping his team that he was out here in the supermarket.

Coward, came Haruki’s immediate rebuttal. Even if it wasn’t in all caps, the text looked vaguely threatening.

Sorry, Aki replied back. Want me to grab anything?

He had to scroll to read the resulting text. Haruki had clearly been saving this list for a while now. Still, it was a small penance to pay. As he entered the chips aisle, he looked up from his phone to find the ketchup chips Haruki secretly adored. A small bribe for forgiveness. As he reached up for it, he was surprised to find another hand grabbing it at the same time.

Even more surprised to find the hand belonged to Ugetsu. His jaw went slack as he stared.

“Close your jaw, you’re catching flies,” Ugetsu drawled, plucking the packet out of his hands.

Aki flushed, embarrassed. Well, it wasn’t like anyone could blame him. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Ugetsu in a grocery store. Even when they were together, restocking the fridge had been his job. “You’re here.”

“I have to eat,” Ugetsu pointed out, his eyebrow raised. With a deadpan expression, he gestured at his basket. “I am human.”

That was a fact that had been all too easy to forget. Sometimes it had felt like Ugetsu lived off music and moonlight, like a mythical creature of yore. Aki had forgotten that he was flesh and blood, that there was something human about his very inhuman ex. “Do you even know how to shop?”

“Rude.” Ugetsu glared at him, but there wasn’t any fire behind it.

“I expected your manager or your—” The word boyfriendwas stuck in his throat. It was hard to think Ugetsu in a relationship, Ugetsu in love. Even when they’d been stuck in that quagmire of a relationship, the lovers he’d brought home had never been more than a one-night fling. Lamely, he finished, “Friends to do it.”

“I don’t have friends,” Ugestu stated simply, grabbing another packet of chips. “And Natsume has a tour to manage. Besides, I can handle something this simple.” He rolled his eyes at Aki’s disbelieving look. “You’d think I never did anything.”

You didn’t, he wanted to say, but that felt unnecessarily cruel. And untrue—Ugetsu hadn’t done anything, but Aki had been more than willing to do everything. Glancing down at his basket, Aki frowned. “That’s all junk food.”

Ugetsu shrugged. “Food is food.”

So he had been right earlier. Aki looked back up. Ugetsu looked thinner than before, his bones bird-like and brittle. It’d take just a squeeze to break his fragile wrist. Even his skin looked paler than it used to, the bags under his eyes unmistakable. “That’s not right.” With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. “Come over, I’ll cook you something.”

Ugetsu’s eyes widened imperceptibly, and Aki realized what he’d just offered. Before he could take it back, Ugetsu snorted and turned away. “I’ll stick to the chips.”

Fortissimo

There were few music halls in Tokyo that gave a clear sound, that had the right amount of echo and ambience. Fewer still were the halls that Ugetsu liked and so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to find him in the theatre across from their old university. It had been an old haunt of his back when they were still in school. Aki shouldn’t have expected it to change now that they were graduated. Briefly, he considered going home and practicing here another day, but now that the band was taking off, his violin sessions were rare enough as is.

Besides, there was something awe-inspiring about watching Ugetsu play. It was impossible for Aki to tear his eyes away. It was hard enough remembering to breath. Eyes closed, Ugetsu wove one movement into the next, flowing from Bach to Mozart and back again. He’d gotten even better than the last time they’d seen each other, than the last time Aki had slipped into one of his concerts. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Then again, Ugetsu’s true love had always been music and he’d been blind not to see that before.

The music stopped, the violin falling to his side, and Aki couldn’t stop himself from clapping.

Ugetsu blinked, surprised, his head jerking up. When he spotted Aki, he frowned. “You can’t afford a private performance.”

Approaching the stage, Aki chuckled. He didn’t even want to know how much that would cost. “I don’t think anyone could afford your rates,” he shot back wryly.

“True.” He kneeled and gently set the violin back in its case. As the lid snapped shut with a sharp click, the spotlight turned off and the main theatre lights brightened. The ‘concert’ was over. Regally, Ugetsu walked over to the stairs. There was something almost predatory about the way he walked, like a leopard stalking the halls.

“As modest as usual,” Aki muttered, rolling his eyes. He stepped back to let Ugetsu walk past him. Now that he was closer, he didn’t look as grand as he did on the stage. The fire that was missing from his insults was also gone from his eyes now, and something about Ugetsu felt lesser.

It was a strange thought.

“Modesty is for those who don’t understand their talents,” Ugetsu replied. His violin case swung beside him like a metronome. “Or for those who don’t have any.”

Even that barb felt lacking. Aki couldn’t quite put a pin on it and just watched as Ugetsu stalked out of the concert.

Sempre

“And these are?” Ugetsu stared at the offending tickets in his hand, eyebrow raised.

“We have a concert next weekend,” Aki replied, examining apples as he selected six of them. If it had been strange to find Ugetsu in the grocery store that first time, it had been even stranger to bump into him a second time. By the fifth time, though, it had felt almost commonplace to find him there.

Yet another word he had never thought he’d use to describe Ugetsu. Common. He peeked at his…he didn’t even know how to describe him anymore. Ex was true, but that felt long ago now. They were definitely not friends. Companion? Maybe?

Honestly, at this point he wasn’t even sure what to call this relationship of theirs. They bumped into each other occasionally now and the only difference from their first chance meeting at the reporter’s place was that Ugetsu looked a smidgen healthier now. At least, Aki hoped that was the case and not his eyes playing tricks on him. He also hoped that Ugetsu actually ate the fruits he snuck into his grocery bags.

“I can tell that much.” Ugetsu gave him an annoyed look. “Why are you giving them to me?”

That was a harder question to answer. “Thought you might like to see how Mafuyu’s changed,” he answered, a partial truth.

“Hmm. Well, he certainly does have talent.” Ugetsu studied the tickets again before finally pocketing one. Holding out the other one, he added, “I don’t need this.”

Aki blinked, his hand already reaching up to take the extra ticket. “What about—”

“I don’t have friends,” Ugetsu reminded scornfully, and for a man who looked like he’d forgotten what it was like to live off the stage, he certainly seemed oddly proud of that fact.

“And, uh…” Aki frowned, not sure how to put it. “Boyfriend?”

Ugetsu merely shot him a look before marching to the chips aisle.

Sforanzadoo

The basement hadn’t changed in the least. Standing at the entrance, at the threshold between entering and staying outside, Aki swallowed. There was something foreboding about entering, about the dark staircase that threatened to consume everything that entered.

Then again, this wasn’t four years ago, and he wasn’t the man was drowning in self-pity. And now, it seemed, neither was Ugetsu. For better or for worse, he’d changed as well.

“Hurry up,” Ugetsu panted.

Well, in some ways, at least. Aki glanced to his right, to the man standing only because of Aki’s arm wrapped around his chest. Behind them, the rain continued to pour, a rare spring shower that washed away everything in its path. Summer and the monsoon season were coming, the dark skies warned. This was only a little taste of what was next.

“You know you get sick easily,” Aki reprimanded, stepping into the apartment. Nothing happened as he entered, the place was just a place, and it was strange to realize the mythology people made of their own pasts. How memory had changed this place into a dragon’s den when it was really just an basement apartment. It looked just like when he’d left it and he slowly dragged Ugetsu to the bedroom. “I can’t believe you caught a cold walking home.”

“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll give it to you,” Ugetsu threatened, his voice scratchy and low. Any inkling of fear that might have risen from that disappeared as he coughed up a lung.

“How scary.” Aki suddenly wanted to apologize to Haruki for leaving him alone with Mafuyu all those other times. This had to be karma. While he had expected the rain after practice, he hadn’t expected to find a shivering Ugetsu under an awning, his skin flush as a fever raced through him. The man got sick so easily sometimes. “There you go.”

Gently, he laid Ugetsu down on his bed. His skin was hot, too hot, and Aki brushed his forehead. He’d have to get a cooling pack later. At least he had the foresight to buy medicine—knowing Ugetsu, the only thing he stocked up on was bandages.

“Ahhh,” Ugetsu sighed blissfully as he sank into his bed. “This is soft.”

“Too soft,” Aki snipped, dragging the blanket over his supine body. “You’re hurting your posture.”

Squirming deeper into the blankets, Ugetsu shook his head. “It’s perfect.”

It was like taking care of a child. He’d forgotten how spoiled Ugetsu could get. “I’ll go get your medicine."

Before he could turn away, a hand stuck out of the blankets and grabbed his shirt. Ugetsu peeked out of the nest he was forming, his dark eyes unreadable. “Don’t go.”

And that, that he didn’t know how to take. How to handle. Despite himself, his heart skipped a beat and he could feel a familiar flush on his ears. He swallowed, his mouth dry. “I…” They stared at each other for a long moment. “I need to get the pills.”

Just as suddenly, Ugetsu let go, burying his head once more. Which was great, because Aki wasn’t sure if he could handle Ugetsu’s stares right now. He could barely handle the jack-hammering of his heart. This was stupid. They were exes who broke up for a good reason, Aki had dated other people, he was over Ugetsu. And that was the truth.

Just as it was true that there was something magnetic about Ugetsu, some quality that Aki would always find attractive. Maybe even more so now that they’d been apart for so long, that he knew what it was like to love without losing one’s self.

Aki frowned. These thoughts were uncalled for. It had to be because he was in the basement again, taking care of Ugetsu like he’d done a dozen times before. Opening the cupboards, he searched for glasses.

Or, in this case, glass. Actually, now that he looked, the cupboards were criminally bare. There was a single mug, a single plate—just one of everything. Had Ugetsu smashed everything else? There weren’t even canned foods, just the chips that Ugetsu liked to hoard. Yanking open the fridge, he stared at the rows of chilled wine. A couple of eggs, a bag of cheese—there were small things that could make a meal, perhaps, but nothing that Aki would call food.

The red apples he’d selected sat in the bottom drawer and he was a little pleased to find that at least two were missing.

“You have nothing in your kitchen.” Aki glowered as he re-entered the bedroom, a mug of water in one hand, two pills in the other.

Ugetsu sat up slightly, accepting the medicine. Softly, he rebutted, “I have wine.”

“That’s not food.” Aki watched as Ugetsu drank, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each sip. “No wonder you’re sick. What do you even go to the grocery store for?”

Ugetsu stopped drinking. Holding out the mug, he looked away. “Here, I’m done. You can go now.”

That was unexpectedly cold. He stared at the mug, then back at Ugetsu. Then again, he’d always been hot and cold like that. Gingerly, Aki accepted the cup. “Sure.” Ugetsu’s face was still flushed, sweaty hair sticking to his face, his eyes slightly watery. No one in that condition should be left alone. “I can go but someone has to come. Your manager? Your boyfriend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Ugetsu croaked.

“Right, right.” Aki rolled his eyes. Even now, he had to play that game. “Fine, whatever you call them. Lover, one-night stand—”

“There’s no one,” Ugetsu interrupted sharply, his teeth bared. He looked like a cornered animal, ready to fight. Weaker now, he spit out, “You can laugh.”

Dumbfounded, Aki stared. “What?”

“I know you want to,” Ugetsu answered mockingly, but for once the cruelty in his voice was aimed at himself. “Laugh! Go ahead!” He lay flat on his back, his hand blocking his eyes. “I pushed everyone away and I’m getting exactly what I wanted.”

Ugetsu was unravelling in front of him. Slowly, Aki walked forward and stared down at Ugetsu’s half-hidden expression. There was an urge, a need, to see his eyes, to see just what was hidden. “No one?” Gently, he pried Ugetsu’s hand away.

Teary eyes stared up at him. Aki couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Ugetsu cry. His smile turned scornful. “I’m alone.” The medicine kicked in, his eyes fluttering shut, his words slurring into one another. “It’sss wha I desserve.”

Aki could only stare.

Sempre piu

This is idiotic, Aki thought, standing outside of the studio. He fumbled with the pockets of his jacket, searching for a cigarette before remembering that he and Haruki were trying to quit. Another idiotic decision. He’d never needed a smoke as much as he needed one now.

“Are you smoking?” Mafuyu asked, appearing next to him as silently as a ghost.

Aki had to resist the urge to jump. “No.” He dug his hands in his pockets, grumpy. “I just want to.”

“Here, use this.” Smiling innocently, he offered a cherry-flavoured lollipop.

A sweet flavour. Aki debated taking it for a second, but damn, he craved something and this was better than nothing. “Thanks.” Ripping off the wrapping paper, he shuddered. “Ugh, so sweet.”

“Why’re you outside?” Mafuyu asked, looking up cautiously at the sky. The clouds were clearing, the evening sunlight filtering through the gaps.

It had been over a week since that conversation. By now, Ugetsu was probably healthy. Probably. He hadn’t bumped into him at the grocery story again or the theatre or any of the other dozens of places they ran into one another and he wasn’t sure if that was because he was avoiding Ugetsu or vice versa. Maybe a mix of both. “No reason.”

“Oh, is it because of Ugetsu?”

Aki snapped his head to the singer. Haruki had mentioned before about being afraid of Mafuyu and suddenly he understood why. “You psychic?” he asked, unable to stop himself. It was the only possible solution. Or that Mafuyu was a mindreader, but if that was the case, he was already doomed.

Mafuyu considered it before shaking his head. “No.”

Somehow, that made it even scarier. Like, was there some other secret power the kid was hiding? Pushing his fears to the side, Aki hesitantly asked, “Then how?”

“Oh, we text.” Mafuyu fiddled with his phone, a pleasant smile on his face.

Somehow, that shouldn’t have surprised him at all. Geniuses were, after all, weirdos and of course they were in contact with one another. Maybe he should ask him if Ugetsu said anything—no, that wouldn’t be fair. That would be cowardly and he was tired of cowardice ruling their relationship, whatever form it took now. “I see.” Aki sucked on the lollipop, not sure what to say.

“He’s changed,” Mafuyu added, looking very pleased. “He’s given tips for my songs.”

Well, that didn’t sound like the Ugetsu he knew. Then again, that confession before didn’t sound like the Ugetsu he knew either. “Insulting the entire time?” Aki asked.

“No.” Mafuyu frowned and scratched his cheek. “A little.”

Ah, that made more sense. “That sounds right.”

“Just like this.” Mafuyu waved his hand back and forth, gesturing at himself and Aki. “You two should talk just like this.”

Aki frowned, his brow knitting as he stared at the university student. Just what, exactly, did Ugetsu tell him? How much? And was it more dangerous to find out than to remain in the dark? “What?”

“You guys didn’t talk last time,” Mafuyu explained simply, scuffing his shoe on the ground. He clasped his hands behind his back. “You should talk this time instead of crying alone.”

Somehow, he had a feeling Mafuyu wasn’t talking about him. It seemed, at least, Ugetsu had one thing wrong—he wasn’t alone. He had at least one friend.

Maybe two, depending on how things panned out. Ruffling Mafuyu’s head, he grinned. “Can’t believe I’m getting relationship advice from you, pipsqueak.”

Ensemble

Aki rang the doorbell twice. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he waited impatiently for a response. Maybe Ugetsu was out. Or asleep. Or—

The door opened and Ugetsu froze as he stared at him. They stared at each other for a long moment. “You…”

“Me,” Aki confirmed, holding up the grocery bags in his hands. “I brought food.”

Ugetsu stared at the bags, then up at him. His eyes flickered over his shoulder before returning to him. “Why are you here?”

“You’ll get sick again if you keep eating chips,” he replied, rolling his eyes and pushing past Ugetsu. “Now let me in, it’s still cold.”

Ugetsu pressed himself to the wall, not saying anything for once. It was strange to find him so quiet, so compliant. Maybe he was still sick. Aki glanced back at him, but fortunately there was no feverish flush on his cheeks. Just the usual vampire-esque pallor. Opening the fridge, he started putting away the vegetables he’d bought.

Silence reigned over the kitchen. The only sound was the click of drawers opening, of bags rustling. As Aki put away the cartoon of milk, Ugetsu finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

He stared into the fridge, gathering his courage, before closing the door shut. “We have to talk.”

“About what?” Ugetsu turned away, avoiding eye contact.

“About us.”

And maybe it was the tone in his voice, maybe Ugetsu really had changed, but when Aki gestured at the chairs, Ugetsu quietly perched himself on the edge of a seat. “Fine.”

Aki busied himself in the kitchen. Now that it’d come to this, he had no idea of where to start. Starting with the basics, he set a mug underneath the coffee maker and prayed the satchels weren’t four years old. If he killed Ugetsu due to food poisoning, he wasn’t sure if the world or Ugetsu’s ghost would kill him first. He set the now-filled mug in front of Ugetsu. “Here.”

Lifting it, Ugetsu sniffed it lightly before taking a small sip. His eyes widened in surprise. “It’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” Aki frowned, not sure if that was a compliant. “You like it that way, right?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Ugetsu smiled enigmatically, taking another sip. “It’s been a while.”

He didn’t know what to do with that response. Had his tastes changed? What else was different? Busying himself in the kitchen, he pulled out a cutting board and a knife. Anything to keep him from focusing too intensely on the man who looked so nostalgic from a cup of coffee. “How was the tour?”

Ugetsu shrugged. “It happened.”

Halting in his tracks, Aki raised a brow. While Ugetsu was never one to jump for joy, that response felt far shorter and more detached than he was used to. “That’s it? I thought you’d be more excited.”

“It was a long tour.” Ugetsu glanced at him and shrugged again. “The excitement wore off.”

Well, considering his band wasn’t even close to a world tour yet, he couldn’t relate. Hopefully, he’d never feel like that. Aki opened the fridge and grabbed the vegetables he’d bought. “Is that why you stopped?”

Ugetsu took another sip. “How’s the band?”

That wasn’t an answer but Aki didn’t really need to know the answer. “Lot’s of fun. You should hear Mafuyu’s new songs—he’s like a machine, cranking them out.”

“I imagine.” Ugetsu resisted his chin on a hand, watching as he washed the peppers. “He is awfully talented.”

“Just like you.” Aki let the cold water run over his hands. “Why were you surprised about my violin? I used to play with you.”

“No reason.” Ugetsu lowered his eyes, his expression neutral. “You only played with me. I was surprised, nothing else.”

There was more to that answer, he was sure. What he didn’t know if was if he was ready to unpack it all. If he’d ever be able to unravel just what went on behind Ugetsu’s head. Genius, he remembered, felt more than anyone else. Felt more intensely than anyone else.

If only they had the speaking skills to convey that. Aki bit his cheek. There was no easy segue into what he wanted to ask, what he’d wanted to ask for years. It was the only question he needed to know the answer to. “Why did we break up?”

Silence pervaded in the room and for a second, Aki thought Ugetsu had forgotten how to breathe. His eyes grew wide, his fingers trembled as he held the cup. Then, forcing a wry smirk, he replied, “Because I stopped loving you.”

And that hurt, as he’d expected. Even if it had been years, that still hurt. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Ugetsu. The truth.”

Ugetsu said nothing, merely stared at his coffee. He stuck a finger in it and swirled its contents. “That is the truth.”

Aki stared at him a long moment. So, nothing had changed, after all. Ugetsu still kept his insufferable walls up, still refused to talk about important matters as though the topic was settled and done with. Well, even if Ugetsu remained stagnant, he hadn’t. Without hesitation, Aki set down the knife and the carrot he was cutting. “You can figure out the rest on your own.”

Ugetsu jerked his head up. “What?”

“Cook or don’t, I don’t care.” Pivoting, Aki left the kitchen and headed toward the stairs. He didn’t have to put up with this bullshit, not anymore. If Ugetsu was going to make it like pulling yarn, if he was going to be his own worst enemy again, Aki didn’t have to deal with it.

That wasn’t what love was. That wasn’t what friendship was. And that certainly wasn’t what whatever was between them was.

Not for the last time, he silently thanked Haru for entering his life.

“Aki?” From behind him, Aki heard Ugetsu scramble to his feet, heard the mug hit the countertop with a hard thud.

He didn’t turn around. He’d had enough of these games. “See you around.”

“Aki! Wait! Damnit, you don’t have—you bastard, this isn’t—” Ugetsu blurted out frantically, his words rushing out faster and faster as Aki grabbed his coat and headed up the stairs. “I was scared!”

Aki stopped at the outburst. Those last words came out heavy, weighty, and he turned around. Ugetsu was staring at him, breathing heavily, his eyes wide. His fingers curled into a fist and this wasn’t the look of a man coming up with a lie to keep him here.

This was the truth. And while he probably should go, should just walk up the stairs and leave this mess of a man behind, Aki had craved this answer for years. Without saying anything, he sat down on the foot of stairs and waited.

At a loss, Ugetsu stared at him. “You’re really going to make me say it.” When Aki merely raised a brow in response, he gritted his teeth. “Fine.” He sat back down and stared at his mug, as though he could divine the right words from its murky depths. Maybe he could. Geniuses were often surprising. “You…me…” Ugetsu swallowed. “We were becoming one.”

Aki couldn’t help himself. “That’s called being together.”

“Not like that.” Ugetsu shook his head vehemently. “We were losing ourselves. I loved you more than music and you…you stopped playing the violin.”

That wasn’t true, Aki almost refuted. Almost but he remembered, even before the darkness of this basement, he had spent more time drowning in Ugetsu’s eyes than practicing, had learned the curve of Ugetsu’s spine, the exact way to play his body until the genius unravelled and become a mess of gasps and off-key moaning. There had been something singularly obsessive about their love, even from the start. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You would have disagreed.” Ugetsu shrugged. “You wouldn’t have thought there was a problem. And…” he paused, let the words linger in the air before finishing softly, “You’d have convinced me of it too.”

That sounded utterly selfish, the words of a scared man. “You were scared.”

Ugetsu didn’t disagree. He took stirred the coffee with his finger once more. “Yes.”

It was strange. When everything clicked into place, Aki had thought he’d feel a bit of catharsis, relieved by the revelations. Instead, he just felt sad. Sad for the time they’d lost. Sad for the relationship they could have had. Sad for all the heartache they could have avoided. If Ugetsu had talked more, if he had actually asked, they wouldn’t be like this today.

Taking a deep breath, Aki stood up. “You should have told me.”

Ugetsu didn’t look up, still playing with his mug. He looked smaller, his shoulders hunched, his head low. “Yes.”

“We could have fixed that, together.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Now that that was settled, he returned to his cutting board and started to slice the carrots once more.

Surprised, Ugetsu looked up at him through his bangs. “You’re staying?”

“We aren’t done.” Aki focused on the repetitive chop of the knife. “You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”

Ugetsu said nothing for a long moment and Aki wondered if the walls were back up, if he’d said all he was willing to say on the topic. Then, so quietly that he almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of the knife, Ugetsu muttered, “There’s more to life than music.”

Aki stopped cutting and looked up. “What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.” Ugetsu looked away, but his ears were red.

More to life than music.

Ugetsu of old would never have said that. Even now, Aki wasn’t certain this wasn’t a fever dream, that maybe he’d caught the cold too and was lying in bed dreaming. Ugetsu was drinking his coffee and the basement felt a little less gloomy and maybe it was time Aki accepted a truth about himself as well.

Despite it all, he still felt attracted to the pathetic man in front of him. Despite it all, he still felt enthralled by his nimble fingers sliding over the violin, by the curve of his lips, and even by the dry insults he gave as easily as breathing. Haruki and Ritsuka would probably hold this over his head for the rest of his life, but he had a feeling Mafuyu would understand.

At least, he hoped so. It would be really lonely at band practice otherwise.

“Hey, want to practice the violin together?” he asked. There was a possibility everything could end the same, that they would just rethread the same old path. This time, though, Ugetsu seemed less of a mess and Aki…well, Aki knew what mattered. Who mattered. Walking away wouldn’t be as hard.

Besides, with the way Ugetsu was looking at him now, his eyes wide and teary, a strangled yes escaping his lips, this felt like the right decision.

Andante

A breeze blew off the lake and Ugetsu shivered at the painful reminder it wasn’t yet summer. “Why are we here again?” he grumbled, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. There were many things to do on a Sunday afternoon—laze about, sleep in, play the violin. Not one of them involved going to a closed beach in the cold.

“Because you need to get out more.” Aki chuckled, reaching into Ugetsu’s pocket to intertwine their fingers. Their shoulders bumped as he leaned close and whispered in his ear, “I’ll make up for it later.”

Shooting him a dry look, Ugetsu snorted. “That goes without saying.”

“Good. Then we’re walking.” Aki grinned brightly. “Your spindly legs look like they’ll snap if you don’t exercise them.”

“Don’t hear you complaining about them in bed,” he retorted, but he let Aki tug him along as they headed down to the sand. Their hands were still clasped. Ugetsu didn’t let go.

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