It wasn't the first time Fujisaki had stormed out of a studio session; after all, Shuuichi could be positively impossible when the mood struck him. What Hiro didn't understand, though, was how Yuki fit into Fujisaki's love life. Yuki, that damned Yuki was the source of all Shuuichi's major mood swings (well, perhaps that was putting too much blame on him; Shuuichi did tend to cry at Hallmark commercials and giggle the next second). So when Shuuichi had floated into NG that morning, Hiro just knew it was some love-love thing with Yuki. But instead of his usual bouncing off the walls with uncontainable glee, Shuuichi set to needling Fujisaki about "his type."
No one had really been surprised when Fujisaki stood abruptly, a vein in his left temple pulsing, and declared that he could not work under these conditions and when they decided to be serious he'd be back.
"Ahhh mou!" Shuuichi pouted. "He's so difficult. I'm only trying to help!"
Hiro couldn't keep his expression neutral and, eyebrows raised, asked, "in exactly what way was that helping?"
"Isn't it obvious, Hiro? Our little prodigy is in love! But he's shy about it, and that has to be frustrating, and that's why he snaps so easily. I only want everyone to be as happy as me and Yu-"
"Yeah, yeah." Hiro rolled his eyes. "Well, you're going about it the wrong way. There's no way he'll just open up to you. Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve, Shuuichi. For some people emotions are personal and therefore private. Just… calm down a bit and don't pressure him so much."
"But but but Hiiiiro! How can I help if I don't even know who it is?" Shuuichi cried. "And how will I know who it is if he won't tell me?"
With a small sigh and his trademark good-natured smile, Hiro answered, "Don't worry about it. I think you'll be helping more if you let him sort things out for himself. Come on, let's get lunch. I'm buying." It was always an effective way to shut Shuuichi up, but Hiro wondered why it was always him who paid. Probably because it was an easy way to distract Shuuichi from the crisis of the moment.
Hiro very nearly snorted soda through his nose when Shuuichi related the whole story over cheap burgers and limp fries. "Tohma, Seguchi Tohma, dragged Fujisaki to Yuki Eiri for relationship advice?"
"Hey! Don't say mean things about Yuki!" Shuuichi always leapt to Eiri's defense, even though after so long he knew there was no heat in Hiro's words.
"You're missing the point. Seguchi's meddling is almost without exception related to Yuki, Yuki's happiness, Yuki's health. He leaves the rest of us to puzzle out our lives as best we can. It's weird."
Shuuichi shrugged. "Well, they are family."
The bizarre nature of the entire situation left Hiro not entirely convinced. But he had a date with Ayaka later for which he needed to prepare and therefore had no more time to discuss Tohma's ever-elusive motives. "Maybe so. I've gotta go, but I'll say this: whatever his reasons were, he asked Yuki, not you. Try not to piss off Fujisaki, Seguchi doesn't pull any punches when he doesn't like the way things are going."
A few short miles away, Tohma sneezed once and wondered who was talking about him.
Several floors below, Suguru was working out his frustrations. Normally, practice or composition was satisfying, but today nothing seemed to work. He was really pissed this time, not just temporarily annoyed by Bad Luck's childish antics. Stupid Tohma, who did he think he was? Stupid Yuki - maybe not Yuki; he at least recognized the absurdity of this arrangement. But stupid Shuuichi! Sixteen was still young, wasn't it? What was everyone's rush? Surely they didn't actually think that he was desperately lonely and drowning in unrequited feelings.
Feelings. Emotion was not something that needed to be forced. Beyond a passion for improving his musical abilities, Suguru didn't feel a particular need for intense feelings. Tohma should know that, he did a very good impression of having no feelings. Furthermore, Tohma should realize that allowing yourself to depend on someone else for your happiness is a recipe for heartbreak - and Suguru had no intention of pining.
It wasn't as if he'd emotionally isolated himself, it was just that his goals were different and so required a different sort of effort. And he hadn't been lying when he said there wasn't anyone and that he wasn't looking. How was that unacceptable? Shouldn't the adult figures be thrilled that he had little-to-no interest in experimenting, rather than actively encouraging it? He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. This was pointless and music wasn't helping. He might as well go home.
Suguru turned out the light and closed the door to the practice room after exiting. Someone else was playing; the notes could be heard clearly throughout the hall though the rooms were meant to be nearly sound-proof.
Must have left the door open, Suguru thought as he walked toward the sound. Each note was well-struck and pure. Suguru thought it a bit odd that someone would be playing an actual piano at NG rather than a keyboard. He'd always preferred the piano, he loved the sound, but the demand for synth players was higher and it had been hard enough to convince his parents that there was a career for him in popular music. He listened appreciatively to the ringing clarity, the wistful tone; it was unpolished and completely unfit for release by any musician NG employed. It was beautiful.
It was the kind of music that must have meant something to its composer, and Suguru felt as though he were intruding on some personal experience.
He'd expected that the pianist must not have pulled the door closed properly, but before reaching the little room it became apparent that the door had been left fully ajar. He stuck his head in, and started, "Ah, excuse me, you left the door open. Would you like it closed?"
Tohma turned around a little too quickly, surprised that there was anyone else on the floor at such a late hour. He recovered almost instantly and schooled his expression into the familiar half-smile he wore when dealing with exasperating employees. "No. Thank you Suguru, I'm finished for today. It's late, you should be getting home. Why don't you call a cab?"
Suguru scowled, momentary reprieve ended. He was still angry, damn it, and Tohma continued to treat him like a child. "I'm sixteen, Tohma. I think I can see myself safely home." He didn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and headed to the exit in a strop. Well, that was mature. I sure showed him.
At least that horrible day was finally over.
Behold, for this chapter is longer than the previous two combined.
Paul McCartney is a brilliant lyricist/musician. I'm really not worthy of using his song.
Dedication/blame to Jill, without whom this thing would have died long ago. LOOK JILL. TOHMA.
I have no problem cranking out shit, so long as it's amusing. This, this is not amusing. In fact, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but ya' know. I'm sick of messing with it. Concrit, if you'd be so kind.