Song For You

(After everything, there was nothing left.)

(But they still get together afterwards. Still meet up occasionally. Still lie in the field while Akihiro's car sits running, ready to leave at any moment.)

"... I wanted to write songs about you."

Fingers running through the grass, idly closing around anonymous flowerheads. Akihiro looks across at Shin, weighs up this statement, smiles to himself.

"... Liar."

Shin doesn't look at him. "Why would I be lying?"

Is there ever going to be any part of my life that didn't have a foundation in you?

Akihiro looks back up to the sky, still smiling. There are many reasons why Shin would be lying, but Akihiro knows he's telling the truth. Easier to apologise for something after the event than not do it. Is this that kind of situation? Maybe it isn't, but it could pretend to be, maybe.

"... I'm not stopping you. Write whatever the hell you want."

"... It's different now."

"Yeah."

You expected too much of me.

Is that my fault or your fault?

There are too many words that don't describe you and too many that do. (I can't fit either of those into a song.)

Akihiro thinks of all the songs that Shin did write, of all the songs he performed. Of all the songs in the world, how many were about him? How many words did Shin say mistakenly, how many described Akihiro without realising it? In a self-centred moment, Akihiro likes to think it was all for him. Wasn't it? That they're sitting like this now implies that at least some of it must have been. Shin wrote words and sang songs, they came from his mind and his mouth and how much of that came from Akihiro's influence? Maybe all of it. Maybe some of it. Maybe none of it. Maybe all of those. Maybe none of them.

Akihiro knew he could never sing. Not least because he didn't have the voice for it, not like Shin did. More because he could watch Shin on stage, could always watch him and could always hear the words that he sang and even if he was mistaken, he could at least believe that every word and note was something deeply personal. A happy song about love, a slow song of sorrow, an angry song of betrayal or a strange song that couldn't be understood, they were all things that Shin had written. He would commit those songs to the crowd, hundreds of people hearing those elements thrown together, that composition that became something pleasant. Hundreds of people heard what Shin sung. How many of those were impressionable young girls? How many girls would take those words and record them to their hearts, would weave something new out of it? Those words that floated in the air, each one of them personal to the person who sung them. Each becoming something personal to the people who heard them. Was the meaning still the same? The meaning would be changed and perverted and wouldn't mean anything anymore, but each party would still think that it did, somehow.

And it was different now, so those things didn't matter.

What emotions are you pinning on me at the moment?

Are there any?

I don't mind if there are.

I'd rather there were.

"... Written any recently?"

"... Some."

"Any good?"

"I'll find out when I perform them."

Don't you know already? Surely you, who wrote them, can have a feeling in your heart...

Maybe such things aren't divided into 'good' and 'bad'. Maybe there's only 'feeling'.

Maybe it doesn't matter to you. Maybe it only matters to the audience.

Maybe to you, it's all equal. Maybe there is no song you've written you think better or worse than another.

Maybe I'm in a privileged position to be able to make that kind of judgement.

"Will I be getting tickets?"

"If you want them, buy them yourself."

"Cheapskate."

"That sounds like it should be my line, Jinguuji."

Akihiro knows he'll be there. Knows that he'll be there as he's been to every concert Shin ever performed. Knows he'll be there whether Shin knows it or not.

Shin knows that Akihiro will be there, will keep his eye on him. Will watch for him, through the whole audience. Will play in front of the hundreds, but for the sake of one. The one who usually hid at the back of the main hall so as to not be noticed, because that was what his life was like.

Do you want to be noticed? Is it better if you're not?

Or maybe

You only want me to notice you, don't you?

If other people knew, it'd be difficult. Other people knew and it was difficult, but Akihiro wasn't aware of this as much as Shin was. Those on the Student Council, much as they had been. Now it was after that fact, but a small sense still remained. Would always remain, perhaps. Shin looked towards the future and saw no place there for those people, and yet still wondered what part of him would be able to forget those experiences. Was it nothing or was it everything? Their motives had been generally without feeling, but there had still been a physical result. There would always be a space of memory dedicated to those events. Would those ever be able to be forgotten? Shin thought it unlikely. You couldn't forget everything but you couldn't remember everything, either. Why couldn't those memories be assigned as no more than breakfast that morning had been? Such small details would only be remembered as an overall patchwork, never in the slightest detail. Yet Shin couldn't forget those details.

Maybe it was best to remember them without feeling. To remember that they had happened, but to discard the memory of pain. Was that possible? Maybe. Everything felt apathetic these days.

When did we come here?

Even something like that was forgotten.

A lazy day where nothing was happening. A day where they'd decided to meet up.

Akihiro sits up, concentrates momentarily on tying a blade of grass into a knot. Thinks about cherry stalks. Throws the damaged grass into the sea of undamaged grass, forgets about it afterward.

Somewhere else, children are playing. Their shouts carry over on the breeze, but they mean nothing outside of anonymous noise. Akihiro looks down at Shin who looks up at the sky, watches him, isn't watched in return. Wonders what's going on behind those eyes. What thoughts go through that mind. Does his mind work the same as mine? Maybe Shin's thought process is something entirely different. Maybe it's completely impossible to know what he's thinking. Akihiro's thought that one thought many times in the past, usually replaced only by one thought that overrides all other.

I want to know what you're thinking.

But does Shin want to say? Does Shin ever share that concern? Does he want to know what Akihiro thinks? Akihiro thinks to himself that he probably doesn't. That seems like his kind of style. Cool and aloof and not caring what anybody else thinks of him... or maybe he thinks too much, either. 'Cool' has a price to pay. Fame moreso.

Can't hurt to ask.

"... Oi, Nishimura."

"Mm?"

"What are you thinking right now?"

Nothing empties the mind faster than that question. Shin stares up at the sky, ponders on an answer. Sees Akihiro staring at him in the corner of his vision. Closes his eyes, smiles.

"Nothing in particular."

"... That's boring."

"Sorry for being boring."

"Shut up."

(Shin doesn't reply to that. A command is a command.)

end