S and the Maestro's Story X
Seishiro had made up his mind that when this was all over, if he got out of this with whatever semblance of sanity he was born with intact, then he would sue Akamizu's campus layout designer because there was no reason in this world or the next why the music department should be nearly half a mile away from the medicine and health department because music had everything to do with a human's well-being, but Seishiro and Ashura and Yuui sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them was not helping their health at all.
As for their mental state, Seishiro thought that Ashura would just be lucky if both twins didn't send themselves to the asylum after this. Yuui was already hyperventilating, making his sprinting slower, clumsier, but all the more desperate.
However, considering that Fai had just run off before Yuui had woken up, and then the pianist having to wake up to Ashura standing over him while the Maestro had his head down on the piano, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, Yuui had not that bad of a mental state of current mind. At least, not as bad as it could be if the pianist knew what Seishiro had told Ashura to bring when he finally figured out where Subaru and Fai were.
At this very second, while they sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them toward the medicine and health department, on in the inside of Ashura's thin jacket was a gun.
A pistol.
Loaded and deadly, and ready for use whenever the trigger was pulled.
Perhaps it was Seishiro that needed to be locked in an asylum, because in all honesty, he wasn't even sure what they were going to use the gun for (who they were going to use it on). Regardless of how high in society you were, covering up a murder could cost you more than you ever wanted to pay.
And if you were lucky, that just meant hefty sums of money.
Seishiro hoped things wouldn't come to him being lucky or not.
Ashura yanked open the doors to the building as the three skidded to a stop at the top of the stone steps. Just like they'd expected, the entire building was empty due to the conventions and field trips all of the students who majored in this department were attending. Yuui stepped through the doorway silently, hands visibly shaking against his sides.
The air prickled, pushing Seishiro to say something, say anything—after all, wasn't the ringleader supposed to console his circus acts in times of need? And fucking ringleader or not, Ashura and Yuui were still younger than Seishiro—he was their senior, the ones who'd led them and taught them and pulled them into all of this fucked up business anyhow. He knew he was supposed to say something—he should say something, but absolutely nothing came out of his mouth. Even when he parted his lips, wet them, breathed in, Seishiro couldn't say anything.
And from the frozen expression on Ashura's face and the frozen fear on Yuui's, neither could they.
All three of them stood with the entrance just inches behind them, staring down the dimly lit hallway together with one single light at the end—only one door seemed to have light shining from beneath it. Seishiro's mind was whirling with possibilities—would the door be locked? Would it be a room that they had to have a department pass in order to open? Would Kyle even be predictable enough to be in his department building? What if that wasn't even the right room?
Ashura and Yuui were already beginning to walk when Seishiro ran after them and grabbed both of their wrists. They turned around, eyes terrified and expressions dead. All three of their chests were heaving from running and frightened adrenaline. "Ashura," Seishiro breathed. "Go around and find the window to that room, and whatever you do, don't look into it—just find it and make sure you can open it. And don't fucking dare take the thing out or use it, God forbid, until I say, do you understand? You can come in only after you've heard me go in with Yuui—do you understand?" He shook the artist a little.
It didn't seem to have any effect on Ashura's frozen emptiness. "I understand," was all that was said before the artist turned around robotically and headed outside.
Seishiro closed his eyes briefly and then opened them at Yuui, trembling with his pitifully beautiful blue eyes wide with absolute terror. For this, Seishiro at least thought he was better equipped than with Ashura, because Ashura fucking scared everyone. The Maestro knelt down on one knee and took the pianist's shaking hands. "Listen to me," he started softly. Yuui was clenching his teeth visibly, eyes beginning to puff, preparing for tears.
The Maestro really didn't need a Fluorite twin crying—there was nothing more tragic than seeing those clear sky blue eyes clouded with tears. And right now, that sight might just make the conductor burst in there and start beating Kyle's head in with a chair. "Yuui, look at me." Yuui looked at Seishiro and shook his head desperately, panicking.
"Seishiro," Yuui pleaded. "Seishiro. Seishiro."
"Listen to me," the conductor repeated, quietly and calmly. "You are Yuui fucking Fluorite. You're the badass, asshole, fucking, slutty whore that struts around knowing how fucking hot you are. Everyone can be with you but no one can have you and no one makes you cry—no fucking anyone makes you feel anything you don't want to. Are you listening?"
Yuui shut his eyes and shook his head desperately again. "I'm sorry. Seishiro. Seishiro, I'm so sorry." The pale knuckles paled even further as the pianist's hands gripped Seishiro's tightly.
"What the fuck for?" The Maestro sighed and straightened up. "I punched you back so we're good for now. Even then I think Ashura's pissed at me—at least I was careful enough not to bruise your pretty face, right? How am I going to buy new leather seats for my yacht if I can't pimp you off?"
The pianist stepped up against Seishiro, burying his face in the conductor's shirt. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Seishiro. Seishiro." Yuui's voice was muffled. "Seishiro." Pale hands refused to let go of the Maestro's. "Seishiro."
The conductor breathed in and out evenly, relieved that the pianist had stopped shaking.
"Seishiro," Yuui's voice trembled with the foreshadowing of tears. "I'm so sorry. Seishiro. I'm so sorry." Suddenly, the pianist pulled back and tipped his face up, eyes wet and red, brimming but not yet overflowing, looking up into Seishiro's face. "You love Subaru so much—you love him so much. You love him so much and it hurts me and Fai, too. We love you, too." Yuui's teeth clenched again, as he pulled himself onto his toes and brushed his lips over Seishiro's. "It hurts us because Kyle was never our guardian," Yuui said, tears streaming down his face almost angrily.
Seishiro couldn't breathe.
The pianist's voice was steady. "He was never our guardian, but that didn't mean we didn't find one."
"Why're you sorry?" the Maestro whispered.
Yuui bit his lip, and the tears suddenly streamed harder. "Because you love him so much—you love him so much and he can't see it. And he loves you so much but you won't let him. You love him so much—so much—so much that you might not even know because you can't see it like we can."
"Fai is in trouble because of me," Seishiro reminded the pianist quietly.
The pianist swallowed. "Fai loves Subaru. I love you."
The Maestro stared. And then took Yuui's wrist and made to walk. This wasn't the time to do this. Subaru and Fai were in there with Kyle. "We can't talk like this right now," Seishiro said. "Ashura's probably wondering what the hell we're—"
But Yuui yanked his wrist out of Seishiro's grasp. The Maestro turned around and saw the pianist's eyes incredulous, indignant, and furious. "Why do you fucking keep doing that?" Yuui whispered, voice deadly. "Why, whenever someone tells you they love you whether it's family with Fuuma, or friendship with me and Fai, and especially lovers with Subaru, why do you always fucking run away? Do you really want to be a hated bastard with just fuck buddies his entire life? Do you want to be eighty-fucking-years-old and buying yourself fifteen-year-old whores or something? Fucking them all alone in your fucking estate?"
Seishiro remained expressionless.
Yuui's eyes were almost confused. "Me…Fai, Kamui, Subaru, Amaterasu, Ashura, Tomoyo, the ones from Kuriakiri and Sabakurein…the Trinity…we love the Maestro, sure. But we love Seishiro more."
Seishiro couldn't do this. He couldn't break down until he'd made things right again—made things the same from before he'd fucked everything up because he'd taken being a bastard one step too far. He had to kick Kyle into oblivion, make sure Fai was safe and safe in his mind, and then—
He had to say goodbye to Subaru.
The conductor averted gazes with Yuui and took out his cell phone, swiftly pulling out names and texting, praying to anything that might be listening up above that these people would come and come fast. He needed all of them if whatever was happening in that room met with Seishiro's horrific expectations.
"C'mon," Seishiro said quietly, taking Yuui by the hand and leading him down the hallway. This time, the pianist followed silently and obediently, but the conductor could still feel that Yuui was trying his fucking hardest to press his words into Seishiro's mind even when there were no words being exchanged between them.
Seishiro's mind was in a fucking whirlwind.
He'd never thought about the future. Never. When he had been a boy, he'd never thought about getting into high school or what it'd be like to drive and drink. When he'd been in high school, he never thought about getting into college or what it'd be like to finally be part of the Trinity. And now that he was in college, he never thought about what orchestra he'd join and how he would lead them.
Never.
He'd always played it by ear because to him it was just that much safer. Besides, because he was who he was, he'd always known what high school and college he would go to—whichever one he wanted to go to, he'd go to. And now that he was graduating, whichever orchestra he would want to lead, he would lead.
It'd been like that with people around him, too.
He'd never worried about making friends, having partners, acquaintances, people to call on for orchestra help or benefit preparations. And he definitely had never worried about having someone to love—someone who'd love him back. There'd never been a purpose, a point, a reason—a need nor a want.
If he wanted to fuck someone, he'd fuck them. If he wanted someone to fuck him, they'd fuck him. If he needed extra flutes or trombones, he'd get extra flutes or trombones. If he wanted someone to sell him exceptional cruise tickets, someone would sell him exceptional cruise tickets. It'd always worked this way for Seishiro and he'd never imagined it any other way.
Until the Circus.
Until the Circus, the Circus that'd all started with Seishiro going out with everyone from A-to-Z, from Amaterasu to Yukito to Ashura to everyone that was now in the Trinity. Not that it could've even be called going out—just playing around when they had been in middle school, and casual fuck buddies when they'd been in high school. And for some odd reason, whenever Seishiro had wanted something out of them, they never really always gave it to him free of cost—and if at all, at times. And if they had given what he wanted, it'd been after hours of phone calls and often money spent on ridiculously overpriced gifts—overpriced, even in terms of socialites.
But the Circus had been nothing compared to Subaru.
Subaru had given Seishiro everything the Maestro wanted, asked for, felt like, needed—everything.
Nothing expected in return, no boundaries, no gifts—nothing.
That wasn't the part that had confounded Seishiro though. The part that had gripped Seishiro and left him utterly confused and lost (something he thought he never would, could, or should be) was that it felt like even though Seishiro had neither been physically nor hypothetically, not even emotionally, giving anything back to Subaru—
The trumpeter already had something from Seishiro.
It had been as though every time they spent time together, every time Subaru had done something for Seishiro, every time Seishiro had anything to do with Subaru, told Subaru more about himself, found out more about Subaru, every time that had happened, it had felt as though a piece of Seishiro floated away and landed in Subaru's hands.
Not as though the trumpeter had taken a piece or as though the conductor had lessened. It'd been more like…the pieces were being kept safe, cared for, nursed by Subaru—shined and cleaned and then handed back to Seishiro whenever the conductor needed them again. Sometimes the pieces had even been given back in better condition than they'd started out.
And before Subaru had even been a quarter of the way done with the pieces, the Circus, people, his peers, they'd all started noticing that Seishiro was changing.
He wasn't nice like that when he fucked me.
He never made sure I was on time for school the morning after.
He never even spoke to me when he did me.
I swore that he used to go to more parties before.
He doesn't even get high any more, does he?
What the hell is so special about Sumeragi? His twin is hotter.
Why do Sumeragi when you've got the fucking Fluorites in your bed?
God, does he love him or something?
He's not the Maestro any more, is he?
Seishiro knew that he didn't deserve to call Yuuko his mentor if he'd fallen to his knees in front of a wall of gossip as weak as this. But he had—he had because whenever he'd attended a party, it had followed him everywhere. The Circus had even tried to block it from him, but there had been little flies buzzing everywhere, slipping through the cracks and trying every which way they could to buzz at Seishiro's ears.
The buzzing had made him double back and start thinking about whether he really did do differently with Subaru. It'd made him question why he'd set his alarm especially hours early whenever Subaru slept over so that he could wake the trumpeter up for school. It'd made him question why he'd always go slow, be gentle, leave no marks whenever Subaru looked tired that night. It'd made him question why when Subaru was studying for exams, Seishiro was studying the same material with him just so the conductor could help.
It'd made him question if those pieces Subaru was always holding for Seishiro were what made up the conductor's heart.
And even though the Circus had become his only friends, at least that was what they had insisted they were (and anyone who knew the Circus knew how impossible it was to resist their insisting), even they had thought that Seishiro was the bastard Maestro, and being that, the conductor might feel someone once in a while, but there was no way for someone who acted like that to ever have a heart.
Much less be able to give it away to someone—especially someone like Subaru, someone who probably had a dozen hearts ready to give away.
There had never been a moment where Seishiro had never wanted Subaru, never loved or never needed Subaru. But there had been innumerable moments where Seishiro had convinced himself that he never loved Subaru, that he couldn't and shouldn't and wouldn't love anyone, that he would never need anyone, that Subaru was just a good fuck, that he wanted to hurt and injure Subaru on the inside and outside for all the trouble he'd caused Seishiro.
And all that'd done was forced Seishiro to realize that even though he did want and love and need Subaru, the conductor wasn't allowed to. Seishiro shouldn't and couldn't love or want or need Subaru, because Seishiro wasn't good enough, would never be good enough, and had never been good enough. The conductor wasn't enough in anything for the likes of Subaru, even if Subaru might think otherwise.
He'd thought, this year, that maybe it'd be okay if they were friends. He'd thought that if it was just under the cover of friends, Subaru wouldn't be hurt, and he'd be able to back Kyle away gradually. And it'd seemed all right for the most part, once the silences and the uncertainty had been pushed away. But as it'd gone further, not only could Seishiro not stand just being friends, but it seemed that Subaru was still hurting when he was around Seishiro no matter what the pretense was.
It was better off for Subaru that they weren't even friends.
But Seishiro knew that this time around, he'd take care of what he'd caused, and he'd explain before he left—he wouldn't disappear again. After talking with Subaru all those nights throughout this year, Seishiro knew that disappearing left more of a scar than any time the conductor had beaten or fucked the trumpeter.
So he braced himself—he braced himself and told himself that he was the Maestro. Subaru had fallen in love with Seishiro, Subaru wanted Seishiro, and although Seishiro wanted Subaru, the Maestro couldn't. The Maestro had to take care of his orchestra, of his Circus, and anything the Maestro tried to have for himself that wasn't supposed to be his always died, was always scarred, and injured, and that couldn't happen to Subaru.
Seishiro was the Maestro and right fucking now, Subaru and Fai and Yuui were his Circus—they were his and Kyle couldn't touch them.
He opened the door.
Ashura ripped through the window.
Yuui screamed.
A/N: I don't know why, but all of these updates lately made me feel really...good...? Like I've still got that whole three-updates-in-one-week thing going. I remember how I sometimes used to be able to update twice in a day. ;_; It was good to be young. Or something. But yeah, ever since the whole "Maestro" thing fell into pace during Secrets and then Intrigue, it started to come on to me that Maestro wasn't really another name for Seishiro-to him, it's a job. It's him being the guardian, and even though he'd never admit it, like the older brother of the gang and since he's the one who taught them how to be like this, it's his responsibility to take care of them once they've got themselves into messed up situations.
And he thinks that he can't do all of this objectively if he lets himself be with Subaru-although the fact that he thinks he can be objective when it comes to his babies is already ridiculous. Seriously, the way he developed himself in my mind (because I still stand by the truth that my characters tie me in a chair and run rampant with their development so I made nothing) with how he thinks about the Circus, he's not even their older brother. I wouldn't go as far as saying he's like their parent, but they're definitely like his babies-Fai, Yuui, Kamui, and Subaru especially, since he raised them all by himself. (I feel like I'm making Seishiro sound like a kindergartner whose departing with the butterflies he raised from caterpillars)
Reviews because we're finally getting some action? (Seven more days till Indonesia)