A/N: This story has its distant origins in another fan fiction, which reminded me how powerful music can be as a descriptor and a setting. Due to that, this story is what I'd call an "embedded songfic," meaning that the song functions not as a floating soundtrack but as an integral part of the action. The song used is "Everything" by Lifehouse. Again, this is intended as a pairing story, but could be strong friendship instead, if you choose to read it that way.
Warnings: None.
Pairing: Kouji x Takuya, light.
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Kouji had never been particularly interested in the views that came with being stranded in a train station—but he had to admit, the Shibuya terminal had an unusual charm tonight.
It was late enough that most of the passengers had disappeared, leaving the long concrete walkways around him silent, but not so late yet that the sky had gone dark—rather, it seemed to be growing more brilliant as time wore on. From his solitary bench at the center of the platform, Kouji could see a strip of sunset sky glowing between the station's sharp awning and the slanting line of rooftops leading out into the city. The light made mosaics of the trains that rumbled past now and again, their silver surfaces burnished red and gold, and the cars' heavy shadows rolled harmlessly over his feet, drawing for a moment the gaze of the only waiting passenger.
The Jiyugaoka line was late. So was Kouichi, but at least his twin had called with a warning that his part-time job wasn't likely to release him on time this evening. Usually, on these nights of the week, Kouichi met him in Shibuya and they took the train together, so that Kouji did not arrive on his mother's doorstep without the son who lived there. Tonight, he was taking the train alone, his only company the backpack that Kouichi had tossed him before beginning his shift.
Or, he would have been taking the train. Had there been a train.
The dark-haired teen swallowed a sigh and leaned back into the cold metal of the bench, watching with tired eyes as another train—not his—slid across the rails before him, releasing a scatter of late passengers into the deserted station. Of all the places he might have chosen to be spend an hour, the Shibuya platform was not at the top of the list, but at least he'd managed to avoid the rush. There were times when the terminal got so crowded you could hardly breathe, as if the mass of people were pushing out all the air—so crowded you could walk right past someone you knew and not even recognize them…
"Kouji? Hey, Kouji!"
The familiar voice startled the young man out of his thoughts, and he turned in search of the hail, an automatic frown overtaking his features. Then he located the waving brunet jogging in his direction, a duffel bag bouncing across his shoulders, and the expression retreated, leaving his face neutral once more as steady eyes watched his friend's approach.
Takuya pushed through the last group of bustling passengers and threw himself onto the empty side of Kouji's bench, a tremendous grin filling his face. "Whoa, crazy coincidence. What are you doing here?"
"Late train," Kouji replied, resting one arm along the top of the bench. "Soccer practice over?"
"Oh, man—I thought it was never gonna end." Takuya slumped down in his seat, wiping a hand across his forehead, traces of exertion still damp on his skin. "We ran around that lake so many times I swear my legs were gonna fall off. And this lady on the train was making a face at me, so I probably smell. I bet Mom won't even let me in the house like this."
"That is the kind of information you can keep to yourself, Takuya," Kouji said, sending his companion a mild glare. Takuya stuck out his tongue, a response that made his features seem far younger than his sixteen years. Kouji snorted. "Childish."
"Touchy."
An elbow in Kouji's ribs accompanied the accusation, and for a moment it was the only motion between them, the insults long too blunt to provoke a response. Then Takuya dropped his duffel bag noisily to the ground and Kouji craned his head back to catch sight of the electronic schedule on the wall behind them, his expression darkening again at the poor results.
Twenty-two minutes. How could the train to Jiyugaoka have gotten so far behind? There had to have been an accident somewhere, though how anything short of track malfunction could cause this lengthy a delay Kouji didn't know…
A tap on his arm drew the younger twin's gaze back to his companion, who was smiling as he tossed his chin in the schedule's direction, his eyes open and obliging in the warm light. "I'll wait with you," Takuya offered. "Until your train comes, I mean."
Kouji raised an eyebrow. "It's going to be a while."
Takuya made a face at him. "You trying to get rid of me?"
That made the darker boy smile a little, if only in recollection of how long it had been since he'd truly wished to get rid of the brunet beside him. But in a moment his expression was neutral again, his thoughts carefully withdrawn as a shrug ran through his shoulders.
"I thought you were missing your shower."
Now it was Takuya's turn to shrug—but he didn't play nonchalance as well as his companion, and Kouji could see the smile lurking at the edge of his lips, a clear warning that he, at least, found his impending response funny. "Hey—as long as the smell doesn't bother you…"
Kouji's eyebrows drew together in mild annoyance, and he shook his head as Takuya's brief laughter conquered the silent station. The younger twin sighed, flicking at the dark ponytail that had wandered over his shoulder.
"Do as you like."
"Always do," Takuya returned, sending him another hearty smile.
Kouji only scoffed under his breath, and he directed his eyes back to the tracks, staring into the space where his train should have been. He watched a pattern of black birds cut across the white-gold center of the glowing sky, their wings turning scarlet under the intense light, and listened to the rhythm of a train going by behind them, absent in all but its sound. Then there was a soft pressure at his elbow, and Kouji glanced over to see that Takuya had leaned back into the bench, his head resting on his friend's arm where it followed the line of wood.
Through his sleeve, Kouji could feel that the back of the brunet's neck was not entirely dry of perspiration yet, a realization that darkened his frown. But before the criticism had reached his tongue, Takuya's voice stopped him, humor edging the words as they spilled into the silent air.
"It's kinda funny to be here, huh?"
A scatter of wrinkles rose on Kouji's forehead. "Why?"
"'Cause this is where it all started. Remember?" Takuya was smiling again, his closed eyes tipped up toward the ceiling. "The digital world, and all of us and everything. Right from here."
Kouji watched his companion in silence, studying the expression made both vibrant and somehow softer by the red sunlight surrounding them. He didn't say that he hadn't forgotten, because Takuya seemed to know that already. He found a scoff instead and turned back to the tracks, to keep those sharp brown eyes from catching his when they inevitably opened.
"So that elevator must be the one you came diving into headfirst like a moron."
"You mean the elevator where I met this icy jerk who wouldn't even stay with us for the first week?" Takuya countered, straightening so he could drive a short punch into Kouji's shoulder.
The dark-haired teen glanced back at him, and in spite of the ferocious scowl on Takuya's face Kouji could see that he was fighting a smile—it was all in his eyes, which had turned from chestnut to molten amber under the force of the sunset. That smile pulled at the corner of Kouji's lips, too, and this time he didn't bother to restrain it, earning another nudge from Takuya at his lack of response.
"Jerk."
"Moron."
Takuya rested his chin against one hand, the supporting elbow pressed into his jeans. He was quiet for a moment, returning Kouji's gaze with thoughtful eyes; then an exhale slipped through his fingers, and his smile came with it, banishing his false glower at last.
"I've missed this, you know."
Kouji reached back to tighten his ponytail, leaving the arm behind Takuya undisturbed. "This?"
Takuya shrugged. "You and me. Hanging out. I don't see you as much anymore."
"We've been busy," Kouji returned, nudging Kouichi's backpack away from his side. "A lot has changed in five years."
"Sure, I know. Just…" Takuya tapped his foot against the floor, sending concrete echoes into the caramelizing sky. "I guess I didn't realize 'till just now how much I missed you."
Kouji raised an eyebrow. "You missed me?"
"Well, yeah," Takuya said, giving a lopsided smile as he reached up to scratch the back of his head. "I mean, you're kinda like my best friend, Kouji."
The sun had gotten caught in Takuya's eyes, and whatever radiance was slowly seeping from the sky seemed to be gathering there instead, lending his expression another level of honesty as he waited for the younger twin's response. Kouji considered his companion for a moment, blue eyes steady in their scrutiny of the other's face. Then he shook his head, reaching up to ruffle Takuya's already messy hair.
"I suppose you're not entirely unlike my best friend," he conceded, withdrawing his hand before the brunet could succeed in swatting him.
"Is that an insult?" Takuya challenged, his rough hands shoving the upset bangs back out of his eyes. Kouji smiled.
"Far from it."
The smile made Takuya pause, and then he started to laugh, his momentarily affronted countenance swamped by a shining grin. His eyes slipped closed, releasing Kouji's gaze from the captivating energy that came with all the light gathering there—but the dark-haired teen left his gaze where it was, because there was something captivating about his expression, too, when he laughed like that. The sunset burned into their skin and spread the sound of Takuya's laughter all through the station, filling the vacant air with the ripples of his voice, until at last the boy sat up straight, shaking his head at his longtime friend.
"You're so weird, Kouji," Takuya concluded, his eyes coming open to find their deep blue counterparts. The focus of the other's gaze made him blink, curiosity tilting his head to the side. "What're you staring at me for?"
Kouji pulled his eyes back to the sky, silent with an answer he didn't have, and Takuya shifted beside him, impatient with the question. Then the boy sighed a little, and without glancing at him Kouji knew his companion was looking out over the tracks as well, watching the sun descend.
"Yep. Totally weird."
The bleeding sky stretched out before them in a silence akin to theirs, absent of so much as a whisper of wind or the drifting sounds of the city as time chased the sun lower in the west. Kouji breathed in slowly and followed the meshing colors with his eyes, watching as they slipped out of one and into another like running watercolors, losing all definition in the fluid sky. Takuya drummed his fingers against the side of the bench and Kouji felt the rhythm in his back, distant and mute like the sun disappearing into the melting horizon, like the train pausing behind them before sailing on down the tracks.
"Why did you follow me?" Kouji asked. Takuya glanced up.
"Huh?"
"That first day," the dark-haired boy clarified. "Before we went to the digital world. Why did you follow me onto the elevator?"
Takuya shrugged again, leaning forward on his hands so he could catch Kouji's eyes. "I dunno. I didn't really know what was going on, and… maybe you just looked like you did." Kouji turned to face him, and Takuya grinned, reaching out to push the corners of his friend's mouth into an unpersuasive curve. "Or maybe I just wanted to change that super-bored expression of yours."
The younger twin pulled back, dislodging his companion's teasing fingers, but a thin smile stayed on his lips anyway, and it found resonance in Takuya's broader grin, warm like the light stretching out all around them. For a moment, Kouji was caught by those eyes again, unable to keep himself from studying them as closely as he had the sky—trying to count the colors, and to separate those colors that had always been present from those brought on by the sunset. Then the intercom crackled above them, and Takuya jumped, making Kouji wonder if he, too, had lost track of the world.
"The train to Jiyugaoka will be arriving in ten minutes…"
Kouji's brow furrowed, and he glanced back at the schedule to verify the announcement, frowning at the bright red numbers. When had twenty-two minutes become ten? Where had the other twelve minutes gone? It seemed impossible that he had spent that long with Takuya and not even felt the time going by, when they had only their voices for company.
Takuya gave a short laugh, scratching his ear with one self-conscious hand. "Heh… I guess it's not so long now, huh?"
Kouji nodded absently, still scrutinizing the schedule. "If you need to go—"
"Nah. It's fine." The darker teen turned back to face him, and the brunet relaxed into their bench, resting easily against Kouji's extended arm. "It's still ten minutes, right? I'll just wait."
Kouji answered Takuya's smile with an abbreviated one of his own. For a moment, there was silence between them—but Takuya never had liked silence much, and soon he shifted under his companion's gaze, reaching across Kouji to retrieve the backpack that had been resting unbothered by his side for so long. With an easy heave, the loose purple bag was in his lap, and Kouji frowned a little, watching as those curious hands scurried for the zipper.
"What do you want with that?" he asked.
"I want to know what's in it," Takuya answered, already yanking the bag open to examine its contents. The younger twin shook his head.
"It's Kouichi's. Don't go pawing through it."
Takuya's expression descended into a sulk. "What do you mean, paw? I'm not some animal, Kouji." The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow, and Takuya pulled the bag further into his body, shielding it from his companion's disapproving eyes as one determined hand dove into the backpack's interior. "And if it's Kouichi's, what do you care? I'm not gonna hurt anything."
About that, Kouji had his doubts. But the bag would mostly be schoolbooks, in any case, and there was truly little the brunet could do to those, in spite of himself. So the younger twin sat back and watched without response as his friend shuffled through papers and textbooks, their edges turning to flame as the sunset light examined them as well. Then Takuya gave an unexpected laugh, and his hand emerged clutching a tangled cord, barely clinging to the device in his palm.
"Hey, awesome! Kouichi left his music player in here."
The younger twin frowned to himself, wondering briefly why his brother hadn't kept the player with him for his solitary trip home from work. But only music was on Takuya's mind, and he didn't hesitate a moment before his fingers were scrabbling to untangle the headphones from each other, slipping the plastic buds into his ears as soon as they were free. Then the boy reconsidered, and Kouji found one of the plastic nubs pressed into his ear instead, crooked with the direction of Takuya's fingers.
"Takuya…" Kouji began, but his companion shook his head.
"It'll be fun," Takuya said, sending him a smile before turning back to the device in his hand. "Okay, let's see what we've got here…"
With a short stutter, music rocketed into the headphones, and Kouji reached up to adjust his, pushing the bud more securely into his ear. Takuya nodded his head to the melody as one of Kouichi's favorites soared between them, the off-beat lyrics and jangling music that were characteristic of his taste lending the station a quiet color. Kouji shifted in his seat, and the arm behind Takuya shifted with him, the movement far too slight to upset the boy already buried in the music.
That was Takuya, in a way. Too caught up in whatever he was doing to notice the world moving around him—
Suddenly the song changed, and the dark-haired teen glanced over to find his friend's thumb on the forward button, no more apologetic than his smile. "That one was getting boring," Takuya explained, the first bars of the next song flooding their ears. "Kouichi's always liked weird stuff." Kouji just shook his head, staring out at the tracks as the rim of the sun finally vanished for good beneath the horizon.
That was Takuya, too, after all. The attention span of a gnat.
After what seemed like only a short span of heartbeats, the song changed again. And again. The fragments of rejected music clashed up against one another in Kouji's mind, irregular in lyric, rhythm and key, until at last the younger twin scowled under his mild headache, sending his companion a sharp glare.
"Would you knock it off?" Kouji grumbled. Takuya made a face at him, protecting the music player in his cupped hands.
"What? I'm just looking for a good song."
Kouji rolled his eyes, reaching for the cord trailing out of his ear. "Then look for it by yourself—"
"No!" The boy's warm hand slammed into his, and Kouji winced, the volume of the music flaring with the pressure on his ear. Takuya frowned at him, withdrawing his hand only far enough to take hold of Kouji's wrist. "I'll let the song play through, okay? Just leave it in."
"What do you care?" Kouji asked, reluctantly returning his hand to the seat of the bench. Takuya's came with it, still tight in its preventative hold.
"I just do," the stubborn brunet returned, catching a flat look from his companion. Then he hit the forward button once more and settled back into the bench, speaking over the first soft notes. "We'll listen to this one. Happy?"
Kouji didn't reply, ignoring the petulant boy beside him and directing his gaze into the fluorescing sky as the music slowly climbed in volume, hovering just at the edge of his hearing. At first the younger twin thought the song might be instrumental—but there was a voice, finally, so light it might have been an echo of the gentle strings. Kouji tipped his head unconsciously toward the indistinguishable words, and as though reading his mind Takuya raised the volume, leaning forward on the bench with a similar expression of deep concentration. Suddenly the words became clear, though they remained soft under the singer's lingering tone.
Find me here and speak to me
I want to feel you
I need to hear you
Takuya wrinkled his nose, and Kouji resisted the urge to sigh. One of Kouichi's sappier songs. Takuya glanced at him for permission to change it, but the darker teen stayed silent, because beyond the issue of standing his ground there was a hidden potential in the music that made him want to know where it was going—whether the soft chords would lift into something more.
You are the light that's leading me
To the place where I find peace again
The solemn guitar picked up where the vocals had left off, each line fitting together as smoothly as drops of water, creating an unbroken chain of melody. Kouji realized suddenly that perhaps he could hear a little of what Kouichi must like about this song: the shimmering harmony and the reverberation of each chord in the fabric of the music itself, simple and still.
If the look on Takuya's face was any indication, he hadn't recognized that allure yet.
You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
The funny thing was, if there was anyone this song called to mind for Kouji, it was Takuya. Not for the soft melody and the slow rhythm, but for the words pressed into them. How many times, in the digital world and after, had Takuya been the force that kept them going, often on the strength of his will alone? And how many times had that hopeful, determined smile kept Kouji himself from looking at the world through jaded eyes?
Some days it seemed Takuya was the only person in the world who still believed in other people, because everyone else was standing alone. Some days, he was the only person Kouji bothered to believe in.
You are the light
Into my soul
Takuya had always been fire. But fire was a form of light as well—light so much warmer than the stark, clear illumination Kouji considered to be his own element. And right or wrong, Takuya had always been the one leading them, and the one determined to uncover them, no matter how much they preferred to remain hidden or how many times they pushed him away. No matter how many times Kouji pushed him away.
You are my purpose
You're everything
Well… not everything. But sometimes what he was, what Takuya was, got a little complicated.
"Kouji?"
Kouji shook himself from his thoughts, the music retreating from the forefront of his mind as he refocused on the boy beside him. Takuya kicked at the leg of the bench, lines of confusion filling his forehead.
"You're staring at me again," he said.
Kouji blinked, and the rising music swelled in his ears as he opened his mouth to respond. But there was no response to give, and his mouth closed again in silence, pulling a frown onto Takuya's lips.
"Come on, spit it out. Do I have something on my face?"
Kouji shook his head. "No. It's just…"
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?
The guitar chords took over again, stretching like stepping stones across the flowing melody, and Kouji turned his face to the sky, following the clouds that were beginning to lose their golden lining. He felt Takuya slump against his arm, a grumbled exhale scattering from his lips—but the boy stayed quiet, and the music gathered like withered leaves between them, each note a different shade. Then the voice returned, and it swept all the leaves together, light as a flicker of autumn wind.
You calm the storm
And you give me rest
You hold me in your hands
You won't let me fall
Kouji frowned slightly at the words that no longer matched his companion so well—and at the same moment, Takuya laughed, drawing the deep blue gaze back to his face.
"What?" the younger twin asked. Takuya shrugged, his bright eyes taking on a playful aspect.
"Nah, just—this song kind of reminds me of you. All calm and everything. And you're always trying to take care of somebody." The boy smiled easily at him, the expression dimming just a little as he noticed the surprise on his companion's face. "What is it?"
Kouji shook his head. "I was thinking the same thing about you. Last verse."
Takuya's eyes got a little wider at that. Kouji watched him in silence, listening to the drifting cello and the words chasing after it like sea foam.
You steal my heart
And you take my breath away
For a moment, the sunset light darkened Takuya's cheeks, close and awkward on his skin, and his mouth opened as though to retract his words—but in the end, he stayed silent, watching Kouji with curious eyes. Kouji inhaled and felt the yellow light all the way down in his lungs, the warmth tangling into his heartbeat.
Takuya didn't take his breath away. Not every day. It was just times like this—times when the sun or the stars or the brilliant sky got into his eyes, and all of a sudden they were just so bright.
Would you take me in
Take me deeper now
Kouji wasn't sure there was anywhere deeper than this. But he thought it might be something worth finding out.
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Then, for the first time, Kouji was truly aware that they were hearing this song together—not just the words, but the thoughts that came with the words, and the underneath thread of emotion weaving through them. The music that had stood between them like a fluid barrier had moved outward, so that now they were standing inside it together; so that it was the rest of the world that was isolated, and the two of them left face to face. It was a feeling with more openness to it than any Kouji could remember—openness that was written all over Takuya's face, slowly relaxing from its surprise.
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?
"Hey, Kouji…"
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Takuya was smiling again, if a little differently than before. And his hand wasn't quite on Kouji's wrist anymore—it was just a little lower, so that if Kouji had turned his own hand over, he could have wrapped those restless fingers in his. And the sun was gone but the sky was on fire, a cacophony of red and orange blossoming as far as the horizon allowed.
"This song really reminds you of me?"
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?
There was a moment of pure waiting—the song held its breath and the world hesitated and Kouji saw something in those glowing eyes that he'd never seen before. Then the energy that had been suspended within the music for so long exploded into the shared headphones, and at the same moment a flashing train burst onto the tracks in front of them, sharp and alive and gleaming brilliant red.
'Cause you're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything
Everything
"Crap! Kouji, that's your train!"
In an instant, Takuya was on his feet, his hand tight once more around his friend's wrist. Kouji barely had time to grab Kouichi's open backpack before he was stumbling after the racing brunet, the music pounding stronger than their frantic footsteps through the taut headphone cord.
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything
Everything
Takuya dodged the few disembarking passengers and pulled Kouji to a stop in front of the nearest door, yanking the headphone bud from his ear and pushing it into the younger twin's hand along with the music player. Instantly, there was a gap between them again; Kouji felt it all the way through his bones, and it only grew wider as Takuya pushed him onboard, panting a little from their all-out sprint. Then the boy grinned, flashing Kouji a sharp salute.
"I'll see you Monday, okay? Tell Kouichi thanks for using his player."
You're all I want
You're all I need
You're everything
Everything
The music was swelling in Kouji's head, twice as loud now that it was only for one. But it wasn't only in his ears, or the device in his hand—it was in Takuya's eyes, too, and it was clearer there than anywhere else.
"Takuya, wait."
You're all I want
You're all I need
Everything
Everything
The music was soaring, hanging onto that last word as though to the edge of the world, and the doors were closing, but he wasn't done yet—so Kouji stuck out his hand and shoved against the oncoming automatic doors, startling them back into the thin steel walls. Now the intercom was crackling a warning from the panel at his side, and Takuya was gaping at him, bright eyes wide in his stunned face—but at least the door was open.
"Whoa! Kouji, what are you—"
"Next week," the dark-haired boy interrupted, blue eyes steady against his companion's brown. "Let's go somewhere after school."
Takuya blinked at him, distracted for a moment from the suppressed doors. "You mean… just you and me?"
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Kouji smiled, just a little. "I think I missed you, too."
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?
The music was back to its chorus, and it was growing stronger and stronger in his ears, shuddering like the train under his feet. But it was still nowhere near as strong as Takuya's smile, which burst onto his face like a shower of sparks, igniting excitement all across his features.
"Yeah—yeah, absolutely!" If the sunset had made those chestnut eyes bright, that was nothing to what his smile was doing now, surprising a laugh from his open lips. "I'll meet you out front after practice, okay? I'll get there as fast as I can, I swear, so just wait—"
Then the doors snapped shut and his voice disappeared, but through the window Kouji could see that his mouth was still moving, and that his smile was only widening. And now the train was rolling, picking up speed, and Takuya was running alongside it, waving for all he was worth. And the music crashed all around him like a soaring soundtrack, holding his eyes and Takuya's together as the distance between them grew.
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Would you tell me, how could it be any better, any better than…
Takuya ran until he crashed into the railing at the end of the platform, and Kouji's heart skipped in his chest—but the brunet only hung over as far as he could and kept waving, that endless motion the last Kouji saw of him as the train left the station at last. With an exhale too heavy for the softening light, the dark-haired teen slumped down into an empty seat, considering the thin blue music player in his hand as the broken chorus wrapped into its final folds.
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?
Kouji shook his head, and as the sunset light sailed in the opposite window it stumbled upon his smile, barely more than a turn at the corner of his lips. Then he reached into Kouichi's backpack and retrieved a pen, laying his arm flat in his lap to expose the surface.
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?
With the click of a button, the display lit up in his hand, and to the cascading crash of the final cymbals Kouji pressed the pen against his skin, leaving his message in faltering black. Artist and song title—tucked under his arm where they wouldn't have to be explained. Then Kouji sat back and let the music fade away around him, only the guitar still drifting through his ears.
Perhaps Kouichi's taste in music wasn't so bad after all.
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?