Kaoru holds the medallion, runs his finger over each wooden prayer bead, attempting – and ultimately failing - to recite the prayer Sentaro taught him. Our father, who art in heaven... But he finds that the prayer doesn't suit him. Instead of reciting, Kaoru remembers. He thinks back to the many phone conversations with his lover, and even further back to time spent together before he left with the orchestra. But even though the memories bring a smile to his face, the smile is sad, and he doesn't feel any better – just lonely. It's lonely without Sentaro.
Kaoru has never been good at making friends, and there aren't a lot of people Kaoru can talk to. He's different from them. To an orchestra, classical music is their life. But to Kaoru, it's only a hobby. Jazz is his real passion, and no one really understands how he can be with an orchestra and not let it become his entire life, though Kaoru understands that perspective well. At times, it feels as though his job trumps everything, occupies all his time and makes anything outside of performances and practices nearly impossible.
But he tries – they try, he and Sentaro. They try to keep in touch, try to keep their relationship together. But when you're constantly thousands of miles apart, and have a history of infidelity, things start to get complicated. And difficult, and stressful for everyone involved. Even without a relationship to worry about, they're both stressed. Kaoru has performances to worry about, Sentaro has the orphanage.
And how else does Sentaro work off stress, if not with sex?
Kaoru hates thinking that way, but he knows it's true. Maybe not right now, maybe not tonight – but he knows. They've both done it, fooled around with other people in the absence of each other. It's the absence that makes them do it – the crushing loneliness Kaoru knows they must share.
The phone feels cold against his sweaty palm, and Kaoru knows he won't find anything warmer on the other end. But he still dials the number, still holds the receiver to his ear with a shaky hand. It will be stuck there by the end of the night, glued in place with sweat and tears.
But he still calls.
Because they're trying.
[And suddenly, present tense. Wasn't quite sure how to end this. I thought about writing our a bit of their conversation, but I'm pretty shit at writing dialogue, so that didn't really work out... anyway, I think this turned out pretty well. Tell me what you think? (aka: an unsubtle request for a review)]