Tremolo

Tremolo, n: Shaking. A wavering effect in a musical tone, typically produced by rapid reiteration of a note.

Takeru stared at the phone in his hands while rocking his feet against the carpet. He needed to call Yamato, required his familiar voice and support, and yet… Although he had failed to notice it initially, he was becoming aware of the whirlwind of activity circling Odaiba. His friends and family were closing in, hoping to aid him and Hikari in their time of need. Though he appreciated that, the fact that he needed help was emasculating.

Heat pooled in his face as he stared at Yamato's contact picture. Causing trouble for myself and Hikari is bad enough. But burdening everyone else like this… Is my brother embarrassed? Put-upon? Ashamed?

If he didn't make the call soon, Yamato would, and Takeru needed all the agency he could get, no matter how trivial. He grit his teeth and hit the green call icon.

His brother answered immediately, hinting that he was waiting for the call. "Hey. How are you?"

A rare scowl darkened Takeru's expression, likely identical to Yamato's. "The same. You?"

He felt his brother weighing his words and tone. "Alright. Stretching my legs at a rest stop. Our manager wants us to move along, but we've all got cabin fever."

"I'll bet." It was strange and funny to imagine Yamato squished in a bus filled with people for long stretches. He had a way of filling a space beyond capacity with his moods, even when he was silent. And for Yamato, a lack of opportunities to recharge alone was a recipe for disaster.

Yamato's responding grunt hinted that he heard his amusement. There was a pause, and Takeru sighed and got to the point, saving his brother the trouble. "I talked to the hiring manager at Taichi's company. Apparently, they're willing to work around my classes until I graduate."

"That's good." When Takeru hesitated, he prompted, "Right?"

"I guess." Takeru paused and winced, embarrassed by his petulance. "Uh- I mean- Look, I know how helpful this offer is. I'm sure Taichi-san had to pull strings and whatnot. And receiving benefits for part time work… This isn't something I could get on my own. I know that."

Takeru could picture the tiny smile on his brother's face. He rolled his eyes in response, even knowing that Yamato would not see it. "But?"

He removed his bucket hat and crumpled it in his fist. "But it's… God, Aniki. I can't… I don't want to be another damned suit in an office."

There was a beat of silence, and Takeru fought the urge to start pacing. It seemed that with every exchange he sounded younger, whinier, more like the clueless child he feared he was since learning about the baby. "Takeru… When you imagined your future, what did you see? Before all of this."

His cheeks puffed out, then slowly deflated as he released air. "I, uh… Well… I don't know? Spending most of my time in a home office, surrounded by books and scribbled bits of paper? Writing outside or taking a walk when I got stuck? Being with Hikari when she came home?"

Yamato often snapped when pushed beyond his emotional capacity, a threshold that was admittedly low. But Takeru knew that he fought to stay calm for him, and the long silence that followed indicated that he was reigning himself in. Sometimes, Takeru wished that Yamato would react naturally, the way he did with Taichi, or with him when the mood was more lighthearted.

"I think that's… unrealistic, at least for someone so young."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "You're not much older than me, and you're on a tour bus."

"I know," Yamato sighed. "I'm lucky. I wish I could give that luck to you, instead, but… It doesn't happen for everyone, especially not this early. I think it's unavoidable for you to have a day job for at least a few years. This one seems as good as any, unless you really don't want Taichi's help."

Takeru closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. His elbow hit the stack of books and papers on the side table, knocking it over. "Damn it!" he growled, propelled by a rush of temper. "Writing is my dream. How am I supposed to compose poems after writing patents all damned day? Do you know how much bureaucracy is involved? I'll be a zombie in a suit after a month!"

"Would you prefer to abandon Hikari-chan? To not have the baby? To keep struggling with your own bills and loans?"

The biting ice in Yamato's tone froze Takeru in more ways than one. "Onii-chan, I…" He placed the books he had collected back on the floor. All of the barriers he had erected, mostly to protect his pride, seemed to stay down there with them. Suddenly, he was a small, vulnerable child appealing to his brother for help. He tried not to think about the divorce and the period after, when that bastion of support vanished during his greatest period of need.

"I want to marry her," he whispered. "I want to love her and provide for her and give her whatever she needs, even… Even if it's a kid I'm not ready for. Hell, Onii-chan, it's Hikari. I, I'll do anything." He swallowed hard and fought against choking as the liquid stuck to his throat. "At least, that's what I want to do. But… Have you seen Taichi-san lately? Don't you think he's… different?"

A long pause followed, and Takeru could almost see Yamato's face cycling through emotions. First, a flicker of surprise at his kid brother's perception. Then a blank look while he considered, followed by his typical scowl when he reached a conclusion. "It's hard to put into words, but… Yeah."

"It's like he's running full-out without knowing why." An image passed his mind, and he laughed. "Like a hamster on a wheel."

"He has a leader's personality. He's a natural fit for an ambassador, at least when he's behaving like a professional and not an idiot. He's good at what he does, and it earns him enough money to take care of himself and his family, if they need it. It's not hard to figure out why he chose this path."

"There's no way he can love it, though. He spends half his life on a plane and the other half listening to suits talk politics. Where's the fun in that?"

"Free travel, for one. But work is work, Takeru. It's not supposed to be fun, really."

Takeru slapped his forehead. "You're in a band, Onii-chan."

"Yeah, and I enjoy it. But… Spending half of my life on a bus isn't thrilling. Playing bass for hours a day is still work, and so is performing. And collaborating and compromising with songwriting is hard. Liking what you do doesn't make it easy. Do you find it easy to write poems?"

"Well…" Damn it. Why did Yamato have to choose now to be so level-headed and reasonable? "No. But working for your passion is different. Taichi-san is just working for a company, and I feel like… I feel like he's stifled. I want to create. Writing is one of the most difficult jobs out there, but I would gladly put the work in. You know that. But to sit at a desk for eight hours, filling out forms… I just… I don't want to be ground into nothing. What should I do?"

"Ultimately, I think you need to sort your priorities. What matters most? If you'd like, you can continue to scrape by while finishing your graduate degree with your articles. It's a viable choice… as long as you're willing to either be supported by Hikari-chan, ask her to end the pregnancy, or break up with her. You can work part time while finishing your degree and stay with Hikari-chan and your child. Whether or not you wait until your graduate to marry her is up to-"

Fear spiked, throwing his strained emotions over an invisible precipice. "I don't know if I can! God, would she even have me? She has a steady career, and I'm- I don't even know if I can handle this part time job. Everyone works, I know that. I know! But every job I hear about sounds so awful, and I'm- I can hardly take care of myself. How can I ask Hikari to be my wife if I can't care for her? I, I don't think I can cut it as a husband, let alone a father. I'm not, not ready, not ready for any of this-"

His eyes were burning, probably already streaming. He swallowed a sob and a curse. I'm such a child, always crying to Onii-chan. Even as he degraded himself for it, he waited for what Yamato would say, for how his brother would save him.

Yamato was silent for so long that Takeru checked his phone to make sure the call hadn't dropped. "Takeru," he said at last. That low, beloved voice was strangled with overtones that even Takeru couldn't pick apart. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you answers. You need to talk to Hikari-chan. Whether or not she'll have you, what kinds of compromises she'll suggest… That's all up to her. I can tell you that you can't force her to not have the baby. If you don't intend to father the child, then that's your choice, but she needs to know now."

Weakness set into Takeru's body, and he slid down a few inches in his chair. Finally, he knew what Yamato was thinking. They were children of divorce, products of a broken home. The thought of Takeru abandoning Hikari and the child she carried, his child, was not sitting well with Yamato.

That's his niece or nephew. Somehow, that thought hadn't solidified yet. That's my son or daughter. A hysterical laugh bubbled up his throat, but he forced it down, afraid that Yamato would misinterpret it.

"I'm not leaving." The words voiced themselves, like independent things with wills of their own. And when he heard them, Takeru knew they were true. "I won't leave if she'll have me. But… I don't know what to do, Onii-chan. I… I feel cornered, lost."

Yamato exhaled slowly. "You're doing the right thing, Takeru. Your family needs you. A lot of change is falling on your lap at one time, and that would scare anyone. Plus, I don't think anyone feels ready for their first kid. But you're not alone, Takeru. I'll do everything I can to help, and so will Taichi. Then there's Sora, Eimi, our parents, and Hikari-chan's parents. You have support, and there's no shame in using it. No matter what, you are not alone."

Onii-chan… He wanted to respond, but his throat was shut tight.

"Ah, shit," Yamato muttered. "My manager is gathering everyone. Sorry, Takeru, but I have to go. Are you alright?"

Takeru swallowed hard and fought for control of his emotions. "Y-yeah. I… Thank you, Onii-chan."

"I'll call you when I get a chance. You can always text or call if you need to, and I'll get back to you when I can-"

"Yeah. I will. See ya." His brother returned the farewell, and then he was gone.

Takeru wiped his eyes and placed his cell on top of the teetering stack of books on the floor. He was still confused and overwhelmed, but somehow… Somehow, he felt safer.

This isn't the way I pictured things, but maybe… Maybe this is the kick in the ass that will make me step up. But where do I start?

He cast his glance around his sitting room, which looked like the scene of a recent library tornado. Sighing, he fell back into his chair, closed his eyes, and thought for a long time.

Another Day

Koushiro's stomach rumbled so loudly that he startled, almost tipping his computer off his lap. He was curled up on the leather sofa in Eimi's library, surrounded by books and soft blankets while rain tapped against the windows. The retreat was so comfortable that he hadn't noticed his rising hunger.

His brow flew up when he checked the time. It was after eight at night, long past Eimi's dinner hour. In the afternoon, the snack tray on the end table held an assortment of cheese, crackers, and fruit, but now it was reduced to crumbs. Pain stabbed his gut, and he was tempted to collect and eat them.

Koushiro saved his work and went to find Eimi. Although she asked him to return to her home after their trip to Odaiba, she sequestered herself in her studio for longer periods each day. They took their meals together and read in the living room before bed, but she had barely spoken to him at dinner yesterday. Worse yet, she served him white wine instead of red, despite her usual attention towards the tastes of her guests.

And it seemed that she had forgotten dinner entirely today.

Concern overrode his confusion, and Koushiro quickened his pace. He passed through the foyer and living room, approaching the small hallway beyond. The door to her studio waited at the end of the hall, closed as always. He approached it, scowling as she stumbled through guitar chords. He was no music expert, but this melody wasn't as pleasing as her usual ones.

He reached for the knob, but hesitated. Was it fair to rip her away from her work? Distractions often irritated him, and this project was of particular importance to her. He sensed that it might be better to order food for them and offer it to her whenever she finally emerged.

Still, he lingered. How long has she been in there? Lunch was around noon… Surely she would benefit from a break.

His hand curled around the doorknob. Like most of the knobs in the house, it was flat and parallel to the floor. A slight downward tug would grant entrance to the studio. He pulled it, but paused when her voice rose in song. It was uncertain, hesitant, a mere shadow of its usual beauty.

Sighing, Koushiro released the knob and stepped back. Eimi had shown him every room in her home and granted free access, except for this one. Koushiro could work almost anywhere if he had a laptop and an internet connection, but he understood the appeal of a private spot. Was it right to intrude on her while she was creating, especially while she was struggling?

His stomach grumbled again, causing a gasp of pain and surprise. It was one thing for him to go without food, but Eimi, who worked so hard to make sure his needs were met… Koushiro placed an order for pizza on his phone, then knocked. The guitar music ended abruptly, and soon, Eimi stood in the doorway.

"I apologize for interrupting, but it's gotten late. Are you hungry?"

Eimi stared at him, then whirled around, facing the studio's large windows. "What- It's dark. How did I not notice? What time is it?"

"After eight." Eimi jerked, then pivoted to face him again.

"Eight?! But- But dinner- I- How-" The color drained from her face as her pupils constricted.

"It's alright, truly. I've ordered food for us. You like pizza, yes?"

"Oh! Uh, y-yes, but, I… How… How did I not notice?" She leaned into the door frame, and Koushiro's eyes focused on her trembling hips.

"Are you well? Perhaps you should sit." Somehow, her automatic agreement only made him more worried. She called Aegis and closed the studio door behind him, then led the group to the living room. Koushiro waited for her to sink onto the couch before sitting beside her.

Eimi bent forward, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot a meal…"

"Please don't worry about that. I forgot it, too."

"You're my guest. I'm supposed to…"

"There's no need to wait on me," Koushiro interrupted. "Of course, I enjoy your care. But I'm an adult; if I'm hungry, I can feed myself. My concern is your well-being. Is it common for you to forget dinner?"

Somehow, she scrunched herself up even more. "Um… No."

Koushiro was silent for a long interval. Although Eimi hadn't mentioned it, Koushiro guessed that the song she was working on was meant for Takeru's benefit. During their visit to Odaiba, he had met up with Taichi at an izakaya for drinks. His friend had explained the situation with Hikari with a growling voice, harping on the young couples' lack of financial stability. And he recognized the lyrics Eimi was singing earlier as belonging to Takeru's poem, which she and Yamato had both sent to him after its publication. It wasn't difficult to tie the evidence together, especially given Eimi's personality.

The Yagami and Ishida clans were frantic about this pregnancy, yet he had only just learned about it. Despite his lack of social involvement and finesse, Koushiro felt oddly left out. If he still lived in Odaiba, he would have been in the loop from the start. But then, Eimi was working hard for them, even from this distance. Regret and shame whispered through his mind, along with the question that had troubled him since visiting Odaiba: Have I distanced myself to my own detriment?

His fingers interlocked between his knees and tightened. "Forgive me, Eimi-san. There's so much happening in your life, and still, I've imposed myself on you."

She scrambled into a more upright position. "That's not true! I likehaving you here."

Despite everything, a smile passed his face. "You've mentioned that, and I appreciate it. But a guest means work, and… I'm sensing more and more that you're under pressure right now." After a moment of hesitation, he placed his hand on her knee. "I'm well now, and I've been in your care for over two weeks. It's time for me to return home. Then I can establish my routine again, and you can focus on your music."

She stared into her lap for so long that Koushiro wondered if he had offended. Finally, she said, "I understand wanting to go home. I hope I didn't pressure you to stay here too long."

He patted her knee before pulling back. "Not at all. But if I'm going to settle back into my old life, then I have to return to my apartment. And you have your hands full as it is." He forced a smile, hoping to hide his sudden surge of panic. Without the support of a loved one, would he fall back into those destructive habits? Was this just another attempt to withdraw, rationalized as removing pressure from Eimi?

Her expression was unreadable, but Koushiro thought he sensed something like pain. "You're never a burden. And I hope you're still staying the night… I can't eat a whole pizza by myself!"

He smiled in truth this time, relieved by a reprieve, however temporary. "Of course."

With that decided, Koushiro turned the subject to science, hoping to tempt her away from her work for the rest of the evening.

The Next Day

Koushiro entered his apartment's lift, pulling his rolling suitcase along. It was early afternoon, and most of the tenants were away, either at work, classes, or running errands.

When the lift reached his floor, he walked to his door and let himself in. He had left the air-conditioner off and the blinds closed, so the place was dim and hot. Sighing, Koushiro turned on the unit and removed the button-down over his cotton undershirt. He carried his suitcase to the bedroom to sort through the contents, keeping the dirty wheels off the floor.

But as he stared into his luggage, taking care of it seemed like too much work. Shaking his head, he shrugged his backpack off and removed his laptop. First, he would back up important files to an external hard drive. There was no need to worry about laundry right now.

Koushiro placed the laptop on his desk and booted it up. When he reached for the hard drive, his eyes landed on the picture of Mimi that Eimi had given him a while back. His breath caught as a shock of pain rippled from his brain to his heart and spread outward.

The image blurred as his eyes watered, but he didn't notice the sting of tears. Memories consumed him, starting with the best ones: meeting her, slowly coming to regard and trust her, giving himself in ways he never had before. He could almost hear her bell-like laugh, could almost smell her floral perfume. His hand clutched at his chest, pawing at a mixed sensation of swelling and aching.

Eventually, the sweet turned to bitter, and he remembered those awkward, spread-out phone calls, the little fights at parties, the pain of weeks and months alone. He recalled the struggle to interact with her when their interests and lifestyles were so at odds and the difficulty and embarrassment of trying to fit into her world. And, most of all, he remembered those final days together.

With a deep breath, he wiped his eyes and stood. He picked up the photograph and walked down the hall, returning to the living room. His eyes swept over the gallery on the wall, considering his options. After some deliberation, he approached a portrait of his parents.

They were younger in the photograph than he was now, each already embracing their future spouse. Something about the joy in their expressions hinted that they knew as much. Kae was smiling at the camera, beautiful and radiantly happy. Masami's eyes were on her, burning with an adoration that he rarely vocally expressed, but could never hide.

Swallowing hard, Koushiro removed the frame from the wall for closer inspection. He stared at it for a long time, wondering if he would ever find what they had, and if he even wanted to. He had failed with Mimi, and though he sensed that it was possible to find someone more suited to his lifestyle and interests… How could anyone compare to her?

But he was full up on troubles, and couldn't bear another today. With shaking hands, he removed the photograph of Mimi from the standing frame and swapped it with the image of his parents. Then he hung Mimi's picture on the wall, among the other important people in his life. Irreplaceable, beloved, but no longer number one.

He meant to walk away, but somehow, he was glued to the spot. After a long pause, he whispered, "Thank you," to her image. With slow, clunky steps, he returned to his bedroom and placed the picture of his parents on his desk. Then, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with his body, he sank onto his chair and cradled his head in his hands.

Koushiro had spent the last three weeks healing from the breakup. Now it was time to move on.

Author's Notes: Thank you for reading! Please remember to review, it would mean so much to me.