The crowd is lively and loud, so lively and loud in fact that the stage is shaking under his feet. The floodlights are beaming onto him, blurring his vision and heating his body. Sweat beads are streaming down his forehead and at the back of his neck, cooling his skin. But he doesn't mind; those things are part of the job and don't come to hinder him as much as they did when he first started playing music before a live audience.
His focus is on the guitar in his hand, on the sound coming through his earpiece, the vibrations echoing from the strings of his Fender Stratocaster. He grips the guitar's neck and fastens his fingers around the pick. One more strum of the chorus and the song is over, and with it, his time before the crowd.
With the song's final notes still lingering in the air, he releases his guitar and lifts his gaze. Panting, he notices the venue is full. It's his third show this week, and people still came out to see him, to hear him play the guitar, to support his music. No matter how many times he's been witness to this sight, he can't get enough of it. He enjoys music; he enjoys making music and sharing it. He always has.
„Uenoyama Ritsuka, everybody. A true pleasure to have him with us this evening! Let's give another round of applause..."
The MC's voice fades in the distance as Uenoyama walks away from the stage and takes a moment to catch his breath. He rotates his Fender around on his back, and lifting his T-shirt by the hem, he uses it to wipe his face. Those lights were really strong, Uenoyama thinks after noticing the large sweat stains, good thing I wore black.
He clenches his fist, and his T-shirt crumples in his hand. He is caught in the moment, as a profound sense of deja vu sweeps over him. Everything else becomes background noise, and before he can settle his thoughts, they take over his mind. It's been three years since Given was asked to debut. It's been three years since Uenoyama graduated high school. It's been three years since...
He jolts when the crowd erupts once more and, surfacing from his memories, peers over his shoulder. They are loudly chanting his name, demanding an encore. Well, at least some things haven't changed, Uenoyama thinks and huffs out a laugh. He isn't one to refuse his fans, and after adjusting his T-shirt and guitar, he steps back onto the stage, the crowd's roar enveloping him whole.
„What are you doing here all by yourself?" Itaya pokes his head out the door, the evening's chilly breeze keeping him at bay.
„Isn't it obvious?" Uenoyama tilts his head towards him and points to his cigarette.
„Sulking," Itaya laughs and braces himself as he takes a deep breath, summoning his courage to proceed on the venue's balcony and approach his old childhood friend and, more recently, his employer. „Yeah, I can see that. Tell me something I don't know."
„Nothing like that," Uenoyama shakes his head, facing away from him. „It's been a long week," he continues, exhaling a big cloud of smoke. „A long summer."
„That's what I would say too if I couldn't be asked to mingle with my peers and supporters," Itaya scoffs dismissively.
„Just want to get some air," Uenoyama says tersely, Itaya's insistence coming to irritate him.
„While your work on stage is very much jawdropping, Uecchi, you can't just disappear afterward," Itaya pressed, unwilling to allow Uenoyama to push his lies onto him. „You know all too well that we need any support we can get if we want to have a job still."
Itaya Shougo has been by Uenoyama's side the whole year, working to promote and advertise his music, helping him book venues and shows, and supporting him any way he could. And because they spent so much time together, he got all too familiar with Uenoyama's loner tendencies. He disapproved of them, especially when they came to hinder their job.
„I know that. Just give me a few more minutes, will you?" Uenoyama rubs the back of his neck a bit too insistingly, visibly conflicted.
„Sure, that's fine. Just keep in mind that there are people there that would like to greet and talk to you, and the least you could do is make their acquaintance," Itaya follows, on a more grounded tone.
Itaya grabs onto the metal rails next to Uenoyama. He allows their conversation to lull. But seeing as how his friend doesn't have any intention of talking or moving, Itaya considers it is up to him to reignite his desire to socialize.
„Maybe I'm not the right person you would want to talk to right now. So how about a girl?"
Uenoyama blinks, taken by surprise by Itaya's offer, and turns to him as though expecting more explanations.
„Should I call one of them over then? There's a bunch of sexy groupies and — "
„Can you just drop it already?" Uenoyama snaps and turns away, anger lining his face. „I just need some time to clear my head, that's all."
„I wasn't going to bring this up, but maybe this is as good of a time to have this talk as any," Itaya moves away from the rails and speaks politely, without a trace of anger or resentment in his tone. „You've been acting weirdly for a while now. And this really isn't the time to crack. Not when there are talks of an album, Uecchi!"
„You seriously need to stop making this seem like it's more than it is," Uenoyama replies, his typical arrogance surfacing.
„Actually, maybe you should stop making it seem less than it is."
Uenoyama clicks his tongue before frowning. Where did that come from, he thinks and takes another puff of the cigarette.
„Anyway, I will rejoin the others and continue having a blast at the after-party the venue organized for the artists it featured this evening. Come whenever you feel ready. For the free booze, at least if not the company."
Uenoyama taps the cigarette and nods at his friend. Itaya departs from Uenoyama's side but stops before going inside, his hand clutching onto the door handle. „It might do you some good to do things differently for a change, Uecchi."
The door closes loudly behind him, Uenoyama sensing its judder clashing against his chilled body. „Do me some good..." he mutters, feeling unnerved after repeating words that didn't resonate with him in any way.
Itaya's insistence brought out the worst in him, and even if his conscience was eating away at him for snapping at his friend, Uenoyama didn't regret choosing to remain on the balcony. He leans over the metal rails and lights another cigarette as his eyes loom over the city before him.
Quiet, distant, cold, and yet, alive. There's something about that view that makes Uenoyama's heart heavy. However, there's no reason for him to feel that way because, just as Itaya said, a bright future awaits them. But again, following Itaya's words, their careers can reach new heights only if he pulls himself together.
There is no problem, Uenoyama thinks, Itaya worries too much.
The noise from the after-party is getting louder, and desperate for a distraction, Uenoyama glances behind him. He spots one of the groupies Itaya mentioned through the tall windows. She is quick to notice his gaze and playfully winks at him. He offers a wry smile and nods, responding to her invitation to join her on the dance floor. Drunk, he thinks critically, recognizing the glazed expression on her face. But then again, everybody there is drunk; well, all apart from him.
"There is no problem at all," Uenoyama repeats, extinguishing his cigarette and heading inside the venue.
Uenoyama wakes up the next day around noon. He skipped dinner yesterday, and now his stomach is growling loudly. When was the last time I went grocery shopping, he ponders still lying on his back in the middle of his bed, the fridge is empty for sure.
He moved out of his childhood house as soon as he could after finishing high school. Initially, he shared a room with Itaya in a large student complex. But after he began earning money from his solo gigs, he moved out on his own into a one-bedroom apartment close to the city edge, in a quiet part of town.
There are few distractions in his life now, and he prefers it that way. No loud sister barging into his room at all odd hours, no mother or father pestering him to pursue a university education, no other bandmates dragging him to countless hours of band practice three to four to five times a week and then having nothing to show for it.
Uenoyama reaches for his phone, right next to his bed. With an expressionless gaze, he scrolls through his messages. There isn't anything of significance in the inbox, apart from some feedback from last night's show Itaya forwarded to him, a couple of party invitations from some managers, who want to use him to advertise their clubs, and, last but not least, a reminder. It's for today, Uenoyama thinks and presses the icon to access the calendar.
His phone begins vibrating in his hands. Uenoyama flinches and, not a second later, accepts the call.
„There he is! Who said Uenoyama has gone off the map and forgot to tell his dearest friend?"
„Good morning to you too, Shougo," Uenoyama replies tersely.
„Good morning? What time zone are you in again?" Itaya laughs and then stops abruptly, switching topics. „Anyway, how are you?"
„Good," Uenoyama rubs the back of his neck, fearing the aftermath of his brief reply.
„Good? What do you mean, good? Wait, don't tell me you went to your own apartment last night? And worst of all, alone?!"
There is it, Uenoyama thinks and sighs before allowing his friend to continue.
„Come on, Uecchi. I allowed so many of those pretty girls to come to the party, and you just..."
„Enough with that," Uenoyama is quick to intervene. „It's not like the party was called off because I left before anybody else, anyway."
„As true as that is, you are the only whose wellbeing I'm interested in, and I thought that a little distraction would do you some good," Itaya hums, displeased. „We need to do something about that gloomy attitude of yours before it rubs off on me too."
„I'm not gloomy," Uenoyama says, holding his head with his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed.
„Uecchi, you are making a living through your music. You have fans all over the country; I mean, social media and the forums speak for themselves. You are in talks to release an album. And yet, I don't know."
There's a pause, Uenoyama's heart twinges.
„Something's wrong, and I wish I knew how to help," Itaya's voice is guarded, his tone lined with concern.
„Don't stress about it," Uenoyama closes his eyes and says. „The music is all that matters. As it always has."
„You can be so incredibly stubborn sometimes," Itaya exhales, admitting defeat for the time being. „Anyway, don't forget about the meeting with the producer today. It's at that fancy restaurant downtown, close to the Central Station."
„Yeah, I figured that's what the reminder was about," Uenoyama stands up and begins wandering the house in search of some stylish clothes. Have to remember to do laundry, Uenoyama thinks, adding yet another item to his growing to-do list. „Are we meeting up for some ramen before?"
„Ah, about that. Well..."
„What is it?" Uenoyama asks, stumbling upon a shirt, which seems that it would do the job just fine. „Shougo, say something. Being silent is very much unlike you."
„I won't be able to make it to the meeting today," he responds in one breath, Uenoyama needing a moment to make sense of his words.
„Please tell me you are kidding," Uenoyama says tersely, all energy having left his body.
„Well, this is one of those rare occasions in which I'm not," he follows with half a mouth. „I have a date."
„A date, really?" Uenoyama breathes. „Can't you postpone it? I mean, today of all days. This is your neck on the line, too, you know, not just mine."
„I know, I know, I'm sorry, but I've bailed on her way too many times to be able to count, and for some reason that blows my mind, she can still stand the sight of me."
Uenoyama sighs loudly, rubbing his forehead, scouring his mind for his words. „I can't believe you are doing this to me. Damn it."
„Listen, Uecchi, I know you will do great, I have the utmost confidence — "
„Save it," Uenoyama barks. „I don't need your words of encouragement; it's your people skills I'm interested in."
„I understand I'm letting you down with this one, but I'll make it up to you."
Uenoyama exhales, realizing there was no point in being mad at Itaya, let alone argue with him. His mind seems to have been made up anyway.
„I know this might sound weird, Uecchi, but some of us actually want to do more than just make music for the rest of our lives," Itaya presses, feeling Uenoyama's disapproving glare even through the phone.
„It's fine," Uenoyama forces himself to say. „I'll meet with him by myself."
„Ok, good," Itaya speaks, a hint of relief underlining his tone. „Well, make sure to call me as soon as the meeting is over. I'm cheering for you, boy wonder."
Uenoyama hung up and stares at his phone for a while. It wasn't like Itaya to bail on him, but then again, he never did before. In that regard, his frustration was misplaced. However, he hasn't been in the position to meet with a producer to talk about releasing an album before either. Yes, Itaya, you owe me big time, Uenoyama thinks, narrowing his eyes.
Having finished getting ready for the meeting, Uenoyama leaves the apartment and makes his way to the train station. It is quite a walk away, but he gave himself a large window of time, considering rush hour is drawing near. Itaya's promptness is rubbing off, Uenoyama thinks, slightly smug.
The soft late summer light is shining through the cart's windows as the train exits the underground tunnel. Uenoyama narrows his eyes, focusing his gaze. Two people are standing opposite him, holding onto the bars, with their back to him. His heart begins to race when he notices that both of them have guitar bags hanging from their shoulders. Uenoyama swallows as nostalgia claims him.
Some of us actually want to do more than just make music for the rest of our lives.
Maybe back in the day, that was right for him too. Back in the day, there was more to look forward to than just the music. But a lot of things have changed since then. And Uenoyama doesn't deny himself that reality. Though, some days weigh heavier on him than others.
He's holding onto his head as he exits the train and climbs the stairs out of the station. His head feels heavy, but he can't allow himself to be distracted. Meeting the producer is a big deal, he knows it even without having Itaya reminding him every five seconds.
This could be his big break. The support appearances and opening gigs have been his primary source of income, but releasing an album would change everything. He couldn't make it happen with Given, but maybe he could make it happen on his own, through his music. At least that was what he has been counting on ever since he decided to continue making music.
Uenoyama makes his way into the restaurant, and a hostess is quick to direct him to the appropriate table. The producer isn't here yet. He shakes his head and reaches into his pocket. People like him like to take their time and make themselves late on purpose, Uenoyama thinks, checking his phone, some sort of power play.
He sighs, frustrated to consider that people still perpetuate that habit. His time was as valuable as theirs, but at the same time, he needs the producer. So in that regard, he can't complain. Uenoyama orders himself a drink and sits back on his chair, trying to get as comfortable as possible for the next thirty or so more minutes before the producer arrives.
The rushes of nostalgia he's been having came to bother him. He can't understand why they started now, of all times. His conscience is clean, but maybe it isn't the one spurring them on. Perhaps it has more to do with his feelings, as Uenoyama is known to be bad at making peace with them. If only he knew what's triggering them, maybe he could put a stop to them.
Uenoyama drinks the rest of his glass in one go. He catches the waiter's attention and orders himself another glass of whiskey.
There is no problem, Uenoyama thinks, but maybe...
The door chimes loudly, interrupting his train of thought. His eyes glance in the entranceway's direction. The light of the setting sun is bright, and Uenoyama finds it hard to put a face to the person who steps into the restaurant. As the person advances, however, he starts distinguishing some characteristics. Tall, long red hair held in a ponytail, pleasant features, a soft smile hiding behind an expressionless gaze.
Uenoyama's eyes widen. His mouth opens as shivers traverse his spine. It can't be, he thinks, forcing himself to suppress those words as they linger so close to his lips he almost exhales them out loud.
The person is quickly greeted and directed towards the bar by the same hostess. Uenoyama clenches his fist, struggling to calm down. It can't be, it can't be, he keeps repeating in his mind, forcing himself to contain his anxiety. But the more glances he throws into the elusive person's way, the clearer it becomes that he can't lie to himself anymore.
After three years since his separation from his boyfriend, Uenoyama cannot do anything but stare as Mafuyu passes by him, putting distance between them once more.