this is fact, not fiction
for the first time in years
i should have given you a reason to stay
- a lack of color by death cab for cutie
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1. Transient
Sometimes, Tsuchiura Ryoutarou can't help but admit to himself that it feels like they're running in one vast, ceaseless circle—one that keeps expanding out farther and farther, until it feels like they'll be treading this cyclical path forever.
He's grown up enough to realize that 'forever' is a despairingly transient concept for a pianist. Or anyone for that matter. Grown up enough to realize that the concours is way behind him. Way behind them now.
So he plays a little faster, presses his fingers against black and ivory keys a little harder, performs a little more fervently—tries to catch up to him—tries to force this forever to end, so that they can finally move on and begin a new one. But each new piece—each song through his ears, each powerful bowing straining against his melody, each expressionless gaze—takes longer to heal, bleeding his spirit dry like a hemophilia of the soul.
Each new time that Tsukimori Len just barely slips out of his reach, he finds himself wondering why he's never wanted to mean something to anybody even half as much.
(He doesn't know that sometimes, instead of replaying the feeling of pride and accomplishment staring at the clamoring crowd crying Bravo! Bravo! Encore!! after his first solo concert abroad, Tsukimori Len's dreams leave him staring out at a beautiful piano-violin ensemble, the blue bright against the green. Perfect.)
Tsuchiura Ryoutarou sighs as he places the pen down above his notes—he leans against his piano, his life, and blames the lactic acid in his tired limbs for the slow, burning ache that gradually threatens to consume him.
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how's that for my first yaoi story? though i'm happy to announce that there definitely would be no M-rated fics from me. yay. :3 stay tuned for updates. :3