A/N: ahaha, short fushimi-centric thing i wrote really quickly, not edited, so it might be ooc sorry :P
eeehh its from fushimi's pov, uh maybe one-sided sarumi if you squint? up to you, haha
enjoy~~~~~
I remember you always loved music. Back in middle school, you were the kid that eternally had something playing in his ear — a rhythm, a beat; something to fall back on. It's ironic now that I think of it, all those times we spent listening to music together, one bud in your ear, one in mine. I could always tell, at that time, that we were the same, because I knew we were connected somehow, by that voice and that sound, because I could feel that same beat beating into my mind the way I knew you could. Those days I thought we were going to be like that forever. Always linked by something, always connected, hearing the same music, fiery and passionate and full of freedom, and yet always knowing you were there listening to the same sound. Knowing that you'd be there to fall back on, that we'd be listening to something together forever. I wonder when that changed.
I know. You'd blame me. Even then, I knew you'd hate me now, but I went through with it anyway. It's because I knew you had a dream. And you knew it, too. And you knew that someday you were going to be amazing, finally unfurl your wings and take off, without me, and you probably wouldn't even realize it, even if you left me behind. It's like the rhythm beating nonstop into the back of your head and the tapping of your fingers on your knee, perfectly in-tempo, and at some point I'd realize I was going to be stuck here forever — in this level of dreams I can't control and a future I can't forsee. I didn't have a future at that point, but I knew you did. And I wanted one, something to look ahead to — a life, even if you weren't a part of it. It's selfish, and I knew it, and I know you knew it, too. You're going to live. Wild and free, far away from here. Bright, shining, brilliant. I'll never live up to you. I didn't care, though. Not about you. Just about myself, about what I'm made of and what I'll be, a time far away from now when we're not hearing the same sound anymore.
I don't know when it changed, when we began to grow apart. I thought nothing would ever be different. I thought we'd always be next to each other, listening to the same songs, no matter what happened, no matter how the notes changed, that same beat still ringing in my ears. In our ears. I know I'm the traitor. I'm the bad guy. I know you don't want to see me again, but that didn't matter to me. I didn't want to be alone. And I know you thought I never was going to be, you never were going to be — and you weren't. You're going to be a part of something great. I'm going to stay here and rot.
I wanted to be stronger. I wanted to be better than you. I wanted you to see that I wasn't just someone that followed behind you — even though I knew you didn't see me that way. Maybe I just wanted to prove it to myself. I wasn't like you, or the others. I thought maybe you could accept me, that maybe you wouldn't change, that maybe you wouldn't take off and replace me and everything we had known together with something else. But it was inevitable. I couldn't stop you, even if I wanted to hold you back. But I wanted to be a part of your future, even if I wasn't a part of your life.
Since when did the sound that we hear become different?
I wanted to hate you. I knew I never could, but I knew you didn't know it. Even after all those years of riding the bus every morning with the same tempo thumping in the back of my head, believing that you heard the same and thought the same, eventually you'd yank the cord out of my ear and put both buds in yours, drifting into your own world. I just wanted someone to follow, because I knew you were going to be great and I was just going to be lost, without a path towards the future, without something to make of myself. When I was with you, it was like I didn't have to worry anymore. I loved it when you praised me, even if I never said anything, did anything — it made me feel more valuable as a person, a being. Eventually, though, your focus would drift somewhere else, and I knew you wanted to get out of here, do something, and that was enough for you.
So in the end, I wasn't like you. You really are wild, free. I remember when we thought those days we would spend together would be endless, but I knew, even then, that we were wrong. I just held you down — or, that's what I wanted to tell myself — that even now, I stopped you from being what you really wanted to be. But I knew you'd get through it. You always do. That's the thing about you, and I wanted to hate you for that, but I never could. You're too good for me. Even if I wanted to stop you, I could never even try. We're not the same. The sound that we hear isn't the same. Maybe it's just not meant to be, or maybe I'm just meant to be the bad guy, the one left groveling at your feet. But for whatever reason, whichever of us ends up being the good one, we're just not meant to be the same. You and I, we're different. But I'm not going to let you be the better one. If I can, I'm going to drag you down with me.
So now, I'm the one that can't feel the rhythm even as the bass thumps eternally in my ear, knowing that we're not listening to the same sound anymore. I'm the one that needs to run away, become someone else, to satisfy my own selfish needs. But even in that place, I can't escape the rhythm, I can't escape the music, I can't look away from your gaze even if I want you for myself or even if I want to get away from you. I can't distance myself from you — because even if we don't speak, there is still something that connects us. A rhythm, a beat. I'm going to be stuck here watching your back forever, but like hell I'm just going to let you leave me behind. But if it's just going to be that way, then that's fine with me... since we aren't hearing the same sound anymore.