Chapter Text
“We don’t need another singer,” Choso says, placing his microphone in the stand as he turns his back to Yuki. “We’re doing fine with just one.”
“She’s good!” Yuki argues, stepping in front of Choso with a desperate look in her eyes. “Cmon! Everyone in the band agrees! Just give her a chance--”
“No,”
“This could be our big break! We haven’t gotten a gig in forever! She could really help us out-“
“I said no, Yuki,” he glares at her, just as the others walk in.
“Perfect!” Yuki rushes over to the three—Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru—-and says, “Please tell him how desperately we need that singer to come in and audition.”
“Oh, the girl?” Satoru cranes his neck down to Yuki, cocking a brow in question, as she nods in response, “Oh, yeah. I already invited her.”
Suguru snorts.
Choso’s head whips towards Satoru.
“You what? "
♪♪
“Shit, ” You curse as you glance at the time on your stove—5:39 PM—you are supposed to be there in twenty minutes, “ Shitshitshitshit-“
You quickly grab your keys, rushing out of the door.
You couldn’t be late—not when you have worked so hard to get here.
To unpaid gigs on the street, singing at school dances and desperately posting videos online to make a name for yourself—only to reach a handful of people. While also working as a barista part-time at a local coffee shop and providing singing lessons to support yourself enough to pay rent.
You’ve heard of them—-The Sorcerers—-seen them at a club you once attended with your friends. You were starstruck. By the lead voice, the charismatic guitar player, the mellow bass, the cool piano, the energetic drums—-you felt somewhere deep inside that that is where you belonged.
A band.
Perhaps not The Sorcerers—but that’s where you ended up as you bumped into the guitarist after the show. He had bright—almost scary—blue eyes, contrasting his show white hair. Dark tinted sunglasses lazily resting on the bridge of his pale nose as he peered down at you. And he said your name. Like he knew you. Did he know you? Did you accidentally get too drunk one night and—
“I’ve seen your YouTube videos!” He had shouted over the loud music of the club booming in the background, “You have a great voice! I love your David Bowie covers!”
And after talking, you traded numbers. He insisted on you coming to audition for their band.
And so that’s where you are now. Outside of their studio, on the corner of a quiet street outside of Shibuya City. You clear your throat. Should you knock? Should you walk in? No, that would be rude—
“Hey, Bowie!” Satoru chirped, opening the door with a grand smile on his face, pulling you inside. You furrow your brows at the nickname given. But nonetheless—follow him in.
“Just so you know,” he bends down to whisper in your ear as he leads you through the cozy studio, “Choso is a bit… grumpy that you’re here. But don’t take it personally. He’s always like that.”
“Choso?” You ask, looking up at him as you both pass through halls, dimly lit by orange tinted lights that hung on the cream colored walls. Records plastered up on the walls of all different famous artists. The variety of colors led you through the hall, wooden doors leading you down a path. Until he pauses at a door that was glass but not translucent.
“The lead singer,” Satoru explains, stopping in front of a wooden door, as he stands behind you—massaging your tense shoulder muscles, “You ready, Bowie?”
“My name isn’t—-“
Before you could correct him, he opens the door, ushering you inside. All the group members stop their aggressive chatting as they turn their heads towards you. A blonde headed girl jumps up with glee, rushing over to you, offering her hand, “It is so nice to meet you! I’m Yuki—the drummer.” You let out a breath of release at the hospitality, politely introducing yourself.
“Thank you for having me,” you smile, looking around the group at the other members.
“I see you’ve met Satoru--our guitarist,” Yuki smiles at the man behind you before turning around, throwing a strong arm around your shoulder before beginning to point out the rest of the group members. “That’s Suguru—the bassist,” Yuki explains, pointing to a tall male with dark black hair, tied up in a bun, a few pieces framing his face. His dark eyes looked to you, nodding at you with a slight smile. “That’s Shoko—the keyboardist,” Yuki points to a woman, lounging on a leather couch—toying with an unlit cigarette between her long fingers. Her long brain hair cascading over her shoulders as her brown eyes slide to you, giving you a welcoming smile. “And that—“ she points to a male, standing next to a microphone, “is Choso. Our lead singer.” The male has his strong arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair pulled up into two messy buns, as rectangular black mark was drawn over the bridge of his nose. His light brown eyes surrounded by a faint purple color—eyeshadow?
He didn’t look at you. His eyes were trained on the rug beneath his feet.
“Okay! Well let’s get started, yeah?” Yuki awkwardly laughs, breaking the deafening silence as she gently pats your shoulder as she leads you to where Choso is standing—by the microphone. He moves out of the way, sitting on the chair in front of the microphone stand.
“Alright! Give us what you got!” Yuki smiles at you, sitting in a chair next to Choso. They all look at you expectantly—except for Choso of course, who’s still staring at his black Doc Martens.
“I can just—“ you swallow, looking around “sing anything?”
Yuki eagerly nods, “Anything” You knew you were gonna have to sing. So, the night before you studied the band's songs, which wasn’t many. But one did stick out to you. One they had called, Everlong.
You step up to the microphone.
You close your eyes.
You take a deep breath.
And sing.
"In the thunder of the night," you sing in a low voice, "beneath the neon lights…"
Choso raises his head slightly.
You sing.
"There’s a love that’s fierce, igniting all our fights..." your voice echoes through the studio, "We’re like a power chord, electric and untamed…"
You sing as you once did in your childhood bedroom at the dark of night, to keep the monsters at bay.
"Connected through the music, our love’s forever framed."
Yuki lightly hits Choso on the shoulder to get his attention. I told you, Yuki mouths to him, a smirk tugging on her lips.
"We’re a riff of passion, in perfect harmony," You open your eyes, your hands gripping the microphone to stop your shaking hands, only to see brown eyes staring back at you, "In your arms, I’ve found my home, where I’m meant to be."
You sing for the little girl inside you—so desperate for a sense of release. For freedom from the dark, horrible household you were chained to.
"With every note and every beat, our love’s a wild display,"
You sing for yourself. The past you who was clinging—begging desperately from the love you deserved. From your family and your past love.
“Singing in perfect harmony, we’ll rock the night away.”
You sing for the girl inside you, who was once broken and stuck.
“With every strum and every scream, our souls collide.”
You close your eyes. And sing.
3 years earlier
“I swear to fucking god! I won't ask again!” He storms up to you, “Where the fuck did you put my fucking coke!”
Your boyfriend. The love of your life. Your soulmate—-or so you thought.
You had been giving his little sisters singing lessons. He brought her to the small studio where your lessons were held. And each time, he would make an excuse to talk to you. Until he finally asked you out. You agreed, of course. Who wouldn't? He was a dream. With his charming demeanor, handsome looks, and kind soul.
Kind soul.
“I didn’t put it anywhere,” you sneer, glaring up at him, standing up from your shared, broken bed to go to the bathroom. He steps in front of you, blocking your path. He was deranged. His smile gone. His face pure red, seething with desperation. His soul shattered into pieces. Into pieces you were forced to pick up.
You just...couldn't bring yourself to leave him. You love him. You care for him. He had just chosen the wrong path after his little sister had passed. He wouldn't tell you how it happened. He hasn't even really spoken to you since he came home one night around a month ago. He had stumbled into the door, absolutely plasted and...gone.
Since then, the only 'talking' he did was to either get on his knees, begging and crying for about how sorry he was for the person he has become and his empty promises to you that he'll be better. Or he would touch you all over, begging to be inside you. Begging for you to fuck the pain away.
But right now...he looked unhinged as he gripped your wrists in his large hands. A fire in his eyes you had come to recognize these past few weeks.
“Tell me,” he was sweating. His eyes were bloodshot red. He was shaking horribly. Sweat covered his brow, a few drops trickling down his neck.
“You probably snorted it all,” you mumbled under your breath as you yanked yourself from his sweaty palms, walking for your bedroom door.
“What did you say?” His tone was deadly, as he stalked behind you as you hear his footsteps slap against the rugged carpet floor. And suddenly, you were brought to the memory--nightmare of years ago. When you were still held in the clutches of your father's run down home. You could hear his footsteps, stumbling up the stairs.
You shake your head, snapping yourself out of the terrifying thought, brought back to reality as you look behind you, seeing your love--a stranger make his way towards you. You felt… scared. An emotion you never once felt with him. As you heard his footsteps increase behind you, you began to pick up your pace, heading for your keys that lay on the small marble counter in the center of your shared kitchen. He growled out your name. A warning.
You were running now, grabbing your keys from the marble counter. You heard him fumbling with the drawers behind you, metal clanking together as he searched. You hurriedly ran for the door, unsure if he was planning to hurt you.
He wouldn't do that....
Would he?
His voice let out a hoarse yell, his name spilling out of his lips. Your hand was shaking against the knob of the front door. Open it, and the darkness will be left behind. Open it, and you'll be free.
Open it...and you'll leave your loved one behind.
You slowly turned around, eyes widening in horror when you saw his shaking hand gripping a large knife, pressing it against the flesh or his neck. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving. With every shaky breath he took, the knife pressed into his skin more.
“Leave and I will slit my throat!” His voice breaks, as his eyes water. Your eyes sting as you shut them tightly. You press your fingernails into the flesh of your palm to stop your shaking hands.
You are better than this. You're better than him. You deserve better. Just open the door--
He whispers your name once more, so softly you almost don't hear it. You hear the knife clatter on the marble counter, hearing his footsteps stumble towards you. You hear his knees drop to wooden floor beneath your feet.
Don't open your eyes. You know if you open your eyes---if you see him you won't leave. Just open the door. Leave--
"I can't lose you too," his voice trembled, as you feel his forehead press against your thighs, "please."
You let out a shaky breath, opening your eyes as your grip on the knob loosens.
Present
You close your eyes as you finish, breathing heavily with your heart pounding against your chest. You open your eyes to see all satisfied smiles staring back at you.
“You’re in,” They all say.
♪♪
“What’s up with the band name?” You ask, digging into your pancakes.
They had brought you to a diner—or Satoru rather insisted on bringing you here for celebration. It was a small run down place called Kin's Diner. The neon sign outside flickered. Inside, the dim lights shone on the black and white tiled floor. With music faintly playing in the background. You all sat on a long booth in the back that was pressed up against the window. With the bustling streets of Shibuya City in your view.
“What do you mean?” Yuki asks from besides you, pouring amber syrup onto her fluffy pancakes.
“Like, does it have a meaning behind it or…?”
“It sounds cool,” Suguru says from across the table, sipping his black coffee.
“How’d you guys come up with it?”
“We didn’t,” Shoko says from besides Yuki, “Choso’s little brother did.”
“He’s really interested in wizards and…sorcery,” Choso weakly explains, looking down at his black coffee, before his eyes slide up to yours. You can never read him. He always has a neutral expression on and it’s frustrating.
“So, do you guys write the songs-“
“Choso doesn’t let anyone else write the songs. He does,” Satoru explains through a mouthful of pancakes, as he was crammed between Choso and Suguru. Choso sips his black coffee, carefully studying you. He inches towards the window, away from Satoru, as much as possible. Suguru didn't seem to mind. In fact, it looked as if he had been dealing with this for a long time.
“We’ve been together for about a year now. We met in high school and just recently joined back up to join a band,” Yuki explains from beside you, spreading the syrup over the top of her golden pancakes.
“Enough about us,” Satoru grins, resting his chin in his palm as his bright eyes look at you, “what’s your story, Bowie?”
“Um…well I’m a barista.” You nod, poking at your pancakes as you avoid eye contact and suddenly feel heat rush to your cheeks knowing everyone is staring at you right now, “I’ve been singing since I could remember. It’s been…therapeutic for me. And…my name isn’t Bowie—-“
“Are you single?” Yuki suddenly asks.
Your eyes widen.
Choso sets his coffee down.
“Yes…?” You answer, looking at Yuki with a raised brow, as you tap your nails nervously against the mug of your coffee. You bring it to your lips.
“Good,” She says with a mischievous smile, “you are just our managers type.”
You choke on your coffee.
Suguru bursts out laughing.
Shoko snorts as Choso nudges his foot against Yuki’s shin under the table, glaring at her.
“Yuki,” Choso groans, running his hands over his face “please do not try and set her up with Nanami.”
“Why not?” She asks in a whiny tone, before turning to you and studying you. You suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. She toys with your hair, a grin on her face. “She literally looks just like Nanami’s ex-“
“Cut it out, Yuki” Choso warns from across the table, with Suguru still laughing and Shoko smiling in amusement.
“Fine!” Yuki groans, pouting as she lets go of your hair, resting both of her elbows on the wooden table.
You blink.
“So,” you say, looking at Choso as you recover. You set down your mug, messing with the loose bracelet that hung on your wrist. “Nanami is the manager?”
Choso nods, swirling a spoon in his cup of coffee. “Kento Nanami”
“He’s scary,” Shoko comments, making the rest of the group nod in agreement, “but he’s good. He gets us all the gigs he can. And I have a feeling, now that we have you— we will have a lot more.”
You softly smile.
So far, you've only really gotten to know Yuki and Shoko. After they accepted you into the band, Choso had called Nanami, and Satoru followed Choso out of the room because he apparently really wanted to talk to Nanami--which Shoko later told you that Satoru really loves messing with their manager. Leaving you in the studio with the Yuki and Shoko...and Suguru but he didn't do much talking.
“Do you guys do anything besides play in a band?” You ask, sitting back into your booth. Everyone seemed mostly done with their food. Choso had gotten waffles--that he didn't even touch--and a coffee. Shoko had gotten a milkshake that she shared with Yuki. And you and Yuki decided to share some pancakes, as did Satoru and Suguru. Or rather, Satoru forced Suguru to share with him.
“Oh yea we all have jobs,” Yuki nods, sipping the last of her milkshake, before she points to the white haired man sitting across from her, “Except for Satoru. He lives off his parents money.”
He smiles proudly.
“That’s why he acts like a spoiled brat,” Shoko helpfully comments, a small grin on her tired face. Satoru gasps playfully, his hand resting against his heart.
“Ouch, Shoko!”
After you all finished, you split the bill, and head for the studio. You decided to walk since it wasn’t far.
Outside, the streets were filled with people. All with sunglasses perched on their noses to keep from the beaming sun out of their vision. You squint as you walk along the sidewalk, the whole group in front of you—except for Choso, who held a to-go box of the untouched waffles in his arms.
“You write the songs?” You ask, breaking the silence, as you continue to look forward, at what seemed to look like Satoru getting sidetracked and petting a dog.
“Yes,”
You nod, pressing your lips together. This is gonna be hard.
“Why don’t you let the others help you?”
He sighs, shaking his head as his black Doc Martens scrape against the sidewalk, “It’s not that I don’t let them it’s just…that’s how it’s always been.”
“So, can I write with you?”
His eyes widen slightly, as he turns his head to finally make eye contact with you. His eyes have a fleck of gold in them. “You write?”
“I can try,” you shrug, smiling slightly at him.
He looks away, biting the inside of his cheek. “Okay”
♪♪
Once you all reach the studio, you enter to see a large man standing in the middle. He was blond, small glasses perched on his nose. He wore a blue button up, with the top three buttons undone, his blue sleeves rolled up his forearms—showcasing his muscles. A watch—that probably costs more than your rent—rested on his wrist. Along with cream colored jeans that hugged his legs. “Kento Nanami,” he held his hand out towards you as you shook it, craning your neck up to look up at him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
You smile at him, introducing yourself. “I am so grateful to be here. I’ve heard so…“ your eyes trail from his to see Yuki standing behind him, mouthing words to you.
Hot, right? She mouths, pointing to Nanami.
You press your lips together in order to keep in a smile, “I've heard so much about you.”
He releases his firm grip, nodding at you. “Choso showed me your videos. You have a lovely voice,” You felt your cheeks slightly warm, “I have much faith in the band with the addition of you in it. I suppose you and Choso will start working on the songs for the album?”
You furrow your brows, looking at Choso, who nods slightly. “Yes.”
“Perfect,”
♪♪
After a long night of planning and getting to know one another in the band—you finally made it back to your cozy apartment. After making a quick frozen meal, you turned on the TV—only to be interrupted by a text message.
The Beatles
Satoru Gojo
Hey! Made a new group chat to add Bowie :D
Yuki Tsukumo
Why are we named The Beatles???
Suguru Geto
He thought it would be funny.
Satoru Gojo
Isn’t it 🤣??
Shoko Ieiri
No.
Choso Kamo
Change the name.
Satoru Gojo
You guys are no fun 😿
Satoru Gojo changed the name to The Sorcerers
The Sorcerers
You
It was funny.
Satoru Gojo
Thanks babe
Choso Kamo
Stop.
You
What time are we meeting at the studio tomorrow?
Choso Kamo
You and I need to work on writing the songs.
If you want.
You
I do
Choso Kamo
I’ll text you my address.
Satoru Gojo
What about us 😰😰
Shoko Ieiri
Suguru, I’m assuming you’re stuck with him right now.
Can you disable the emoji’s from his phone?
Suguru Geto
Done.
Yuki Tsukumo
Thank you
Choso Kamo
Thank you.
You snort at your phone, setting it down to eat your meal only to be interrupted by another ring. You groan.
Choso Kamo
I live in the apartment complex down the street from the studio. It’s called Cynosure Plaza.
My room number is 505.
You
Got it 👍
Choso Kamo
Does 2 PM work?
You
I get off at 3 PM. Could I come around then?
Choso Kamo
Sure.
Where do you work?
You
Aurora's Aroma in Daikanyama.
Choso Kamo
I go there often. I don’t think I've ever seen you.
You
I only work there part-time.
You probably have run into me, you just might not remember.
Choso Kamo
I would’ve remembered you.
Your heart skips a beat. You slowly set down your food on the coffee table in front of you in which you were resting your feet.
Choso Kamo
I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.
You
Goodnight
♪♪
“Hello, what can I get started for you today?” You ask the patron who was leaning on the counter in front of you. You had a smile plastered on your worn face. It was just a quarter after two. You had been checking your watch often… too often—-waiting for the hand to hit three.
“Hm…what do you recommend?” The patron asked, as you were completely zoned out. You focused back in, staring at the customer with blank eyes.
“Yes,”
“What?”
You hear the familiar chime of a bell as the door opens, seeing your keyboardist walk in. “Hey,” she gives you a lazy smile, waking up beside the customer, “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Finally,” the customer—who you now noticed has a large scar on the right side of her face, crossing the bridge of her nose. Her long jet black hair cascading down her back, with a bright red ribbon placed in the back of her hair. Her black barcode bags wisped over her brown eyes. She was beautiful. “Took you long enough,” she smiles, softly kissing Shoko’s cheek.
“I’m sorry. Satoru called me asking me hypothetical questions about where I think I’ll end up in a few years. He wouldn’t let me hang up,” Shoko explains, idily twirling a piece of her brunette hair as her eyes examined the menu above you. Utahime rolls her eyes at the mention of Satoru’s name.
“Geto needs to put him on a leash,” Utahime sneers, crossing her arms over her chest as a small smile curls onto Shoko’s lips.
“Could I get a medium iced coffee with soy milk?” Shoko decides, looking at you as you nod, punching the order into the machine in front of you. You then look up at Utahime.
“I’ll get a small matcha latte, please” she says, softly caressing her fingers over Shoko’s.
You nod as you enter the order. Utahime pulls out her card before Shoko presses her hand back down, pulling out her own. Utahime feigns disapproval but when Shoko hands you her card a small look of triumph appears on Utahime’s face.
You print the ticket, sliding into the slot for your co-workers to work on as you stand at the cash register. You wore a black apron, a small star on the write corner with your name printed on it. You truly did love your job. You love talking with such a variety of people—mostly stressed out college students who come in here to study for hours.
“What are you two up to today?” You ask the couple, your fingers tapping on the wooden counter separating you from them.
“After this we were gonna go to the studio and work on some beats. Yuki is coming up too. Satoru and Suguru are ‘busy’” Shoko runs her hand over Utahime’s back, “And you are working on songwriting with Choso?”
“Yep,” you nod, “I can’t tell if he likes me or not.”
Shoko cracks a smile, “Choso doesn’t talk much and usually has that same bored expression plastered onto his face—so it’s pretty hard to read him. But, if he’s letting you write songs with him then I promise you…he definitely doesn’t have a problem with you.”
You knit your brows together in confusion, “What do you mean?”
“He usually doesn’t let any of else help us with writing the songs—mostly because the last time he did give us a chance, Satoru and Yuki made a knock off version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” Shoko explains, a hint of amusement glowing in her tired eyes at the memory, “So don’t let Choso’s resting bitch face scare you. It just takes a while for him to warm up to people.”
♪♪
Choso rested his phone between his ear and shoulder as he was elbow deep in dishes, his baggy sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he scrubbed at his dirty dishes. “How was school?”
His little brother’s voice rang into the phone, “Good! Thank you for the waffles yesterday, they were really good! I’m headed to work with Megumi in about an hour. Do you wanna come by? Maybe I could sneak you a few free waffles…”
Choso softly chuckled, shaking his head as he scrubbed the brush against a plate, “Maybe another time. I’m gonna work on some songs with someone. Do you need me to pick you up after work?”
“Nah. I was just gonna walk, thank you though” Yuji says, another muffled voice talking to him in the background, “Who are you working on the songs with? Gojo again?”
“Definitely not,” Choso says, placing the wet dishes on towel splayed out against the counter “The new one I told you about.”
“Oh! I watched some of her videos online! She’s insane at singing!” Yuji exclaims, making Choso crack a smile.
“Yea. She’s pretty good,” Choso says, hearing a knock at his front door—making his heart skip a beat, “Hey, I gotta go bud. Text me when you get to Kin's, okay?”
“Okay! Have fun!” Yuji chirps before hanging up. Choso quickly dries his hands off, rushing to fix his messy buns before taking a deep breath.
♪♪
Room 505. Was this the right room? You pulled out your phone to double check—hoping you didn’t just knock on a random person’s door.
“Hi,” Choso’s voice says, making you raise your head. He standing on the other side of the threshold, wearing baggy jeans and a large purple sweatshirt. His usual messy buns in place, the dark hairs framing his face. His dark eyes looking into yours, the purple eyeshadow faded around them—making him look all the more intimidating.
“Hi,” you smile, quickly putting your phone in your back pocket. Luckily, you got off early—giving you enough time to go home and change into a knitted sweater and jeans. Your nose a pink shade from the cold air hitting your face outside.
Choso opened the door wider, allowing you in. It was tidy. He had a grey couch sitting by a large window, overlooking the city. A glass coffee table sitting in front of the couch. A kitchen table to the left, that had clean dishes drying on a towel. Grey walls, a hallway that led to his bedroom and the bathroom. You walked up to one—and the only decoration you saw. A photo hanging up on the fridge. Of him and a pink haired boy.
“Is this your brother?” You ask, pointing to the boy who had a large smile on his face. Choso walks up behind you, nodding.
“Yuji,”
“You guys look alike”. You could feel his presence behind you. You could smell him. That sandalwood scent filling your nose.
“Really?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest as you turn back around to look at him. His expression was confused—the most expressive you’ve seen him yet, “we don’t get that a lot.”
“You have the same eyes,”
You swear you see his chest stop moving. He turns away from you quickly, walking towards the couch in the center with his shoulders now tense.
“Let’s get started,” he says in a quite voice, sitting on the ground by the coffee table, his back pressing against the edge of the couch. You follow him, seeing papers spread out onto the clear table, along with bright sticky notes, and two worn pencils.
You nod, sitting next to him—on the floor. You cross your legs as you pick up a pencil and slide a blank piece of paper to you. You look over at him, seeing him looking at you. He quickly looks away.
“Have you written a song before?” You ask. He spins the iron ring on his ring finger, as you now notice his fingernails painted a dark purple shade, contrasting against his pale skin. He then leans back and looks at you.
“A couple. I haven’t performed them though,” he sits up, picking up the orange pencil and slowly spins it through his long fingers, “when we get gigs we just do covers of songs.”
“Why haven’t you performed them?”
“They aren’t good,” he states plainly.
“Says who?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed brows. He gives you a bored look.
“Says me,”
“Can I read them?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” he crosses his arms, his lips twitching up. You glare at him. He stands up, setting the pencil down as he says, “I’ll be right back.”
He walks down the hall and opens the room to his door. You rest your back against the soft cushions on the edge of the couch. You restlessly tap your pencil against your knee. You let out a soft sigh as he comes back, sitting besides you and handing you sheets of worn scrap paper, with neat cursive writing written on it. You look up at him, raising your hand to take them. How you wish you could read him. Your eyes slide to the paper and read.
Title: _______? (When the Sun Falls)
(Humming to tune)
(Verse 1)
Gentle wind brush over the lake,
In the current, I lay awake
My mind a cloud of thoughts and worries
All freed by the soft snow flurries
Restless nights spent silent
My tired eyes all but compliant
With each shaky breath I drawl
I feel nothing but small
(Chorus)
Mmm, be with me
Here are we
In your loving arms I weep
In your gentle hold I sleep
I breathe with you
All feels true
(Verse 2)
I dread when the sun falls,
And the moonlight taunts my empty halls.
Hours and hours with nothing but empty stares
I start to wish for the warmth that your heart shares.
If in your healing gaze, I take my last breath
Then I will pass with no regret.
“It’s not finished,” Choso says quickly, just as you finish. You look at him, setting the paper down, seeing him spin the ring on his finger.
You softly laugh, making him look up. You see a flicker of worry in his eyes.
“What?”
“This is amazing!” You laugh softly, pointing to the last line, shifting closer to him, “I really like this last line.”
There was a moment of silence, as he looks at you in disbelief. “Thank you,” he quietly says, softly smiling. He has a nice smile.
You and Choso had been sitting in silence, often making small talk as you both wrote down ideas for songs. It was now dark outside. His large window that overcasted the city now fledged with the cities bright lights and the soft glow of the full moon above.
“Do you like working as a barista ?” Choso asks, his eyes frequently drifting from his scribbled paper to you, and how soft your skin looked in the light caress of the moon.
“I like working as a barista at Aurora's. It’s nice there, my coworkers, the customers, the coffee—everything,” You say, setting down your pencil to sit up and stretch, “I used to work at Starbucks—“ You see Choso wince, making you softly laugh. “It was hell.”
“I can imagine,” he comments, a small smile on his face. His shoulders now relaxed as he sits up to look at you. You look at his paper, seeing mostly crossed out lines.
“You wanna go somewhere?” You ask abruptly. His smile fades as his brows knit together.
“Right now?” He asks as you nod.
“I think better outside,” you explain, nodding towards your almost blank paper of ideas. His eyes follow your trail, softly smiling. He shuffles his papers together, grabbing yours as he stands. He looks down at you, holding out a hand to help you up.
“Where?” He asks, pulling you up. You stretch your sleeping legs as you grab your phone, putting it in your back pocket. You both walk for his door, as he grabs his keys.
“A park nearby,” you say, as he opens the door for you. You both make your way down the stairs of his nice complex.
It was nice out. With the faint chill of night caressing your cheek, the city lights casting a colorful tint on the both of you as you walk through the streets to your favorite park. Choso, with his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, walks on the sidewalk next to you, on the side nearest to the street.
“Your brother,” you say, looking up at him “how old is he?”
“Fifteen,” he says, “he’s a nice kid. Do you have any siblings?”
You shake your head, “Only child. Does Yuji live with your parents?”
You see a flicker of change in him, "No. He lives in a boarding school not far from here. He actually works at Kin's Diner so you might meet him next time we go there."
You lead him around the corner to a secluded path, where a bench surrounded by trees came into view. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, leaving a cast of light on the bench, as you smiled. “Here we are.”
You walk to the old wooden bench, swinging your legs under the table as Choso follows. You look around at the oak trees surrounding you, as they dance happily in the breeze. The bright stars twinkling and greeting you from above.
“You come here often?” Choso asks, sitting across from you on the bench, his foot brushing against yours from under the table as he mumbles a quick apology before moving his feet. You nod in response, watching as he sets out the papers, sliding your unfinished scrap to you.
“I come here a lot. Mostly when I feel overwhelmed and just need some air,” you explain, picking up the pencil he placed before you as you glance down at your paper. The only thing written on it was the date and the words, ‘ Song Idea: Moon’ . Helpful.
You take a peek at Choso’s paper as you hear his pencil scrape against the paper, the wooden texture under it not making it easy. Your eyes slide from his pencil to his face, as his dark brows furrowed in concentration as he writes away. A few stray pieces of hair fall over his face, dimly lit with the blessing of the pale moonlight.
Choso suddenly glances up at you, then your blank paper. He smirks, “Having trouble?”
You snort, rolling your shoulders to loosen up. “ No. It just takes a while to get my creative juice flowing,” you explain, resting your elbow on the uncomfortable wooden table, placing you chin in your palm as you look at him.
“Mhm,” he nods, almost teasingly. You scoff, softly laughing.
“I’m sorry not everyone is as naturally talented as you are at songwriting!”
“I’m not naturally talented at songwriting,” his expression giving nothing away whether he was joking or not.
“Yes you are,” you nod at his almost fully scribbled on paper, “read me what you wrote so far.”
He hesitates for a split second, before picking up his sheet of paper and stating, “I only have the chorus.”
You nod, waving your hand at him to continue. And so he does.
“We're lost in the labyrinth of us, it's complicated, no denying,
Frustrations and miscommunications, we're both just trying.
To navigate the maze of emotions that we can't deny,
In this love, so intricate, under the same moon, we sigh.”
You swear the moon grows brighter as he reads off his newly found lyrics. You were absolutely breathless as he looked up from his paper, locking eyes with you. “You—“ you hesitate, “ that was beautiful.” Under the dim moonlight, you swear you see him softly smile—a light blush possibly coating his cheeks.
Perhaps it was the cold.
“How long have you been doing this?” You nod at the paper in his hands. He stares at you, as if he didn’t hear you, “Choso.”
“Hm?” He snaps out of it, blinking. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“How long have you been songwriting?”
“Since I could remember,” he says, setting the paper down to rest his elbows on the table. “I would write when I was upset, or stressed…even when I was happy. I enjoy doing it.”
“Does anyone else in the band do songwriting?” You ask, tapping your pencil against your blank paper. He shakes his head in response.
“Shoko sometimes helps me. She’s good at it, she just doesn’t really enjoy it. Satoru…” Choso smiles at the distant memory, “the last song he tried to write was about this crab he met on the beach. Which went something like, ‘ I met a crab…yeah. It was a nice one…yeah. It almost pinched me…uh oh! So I set it free…yeah. ’”
You laugh…hard, making him chuckle in return.
You can't remember the last time you laughed this hard. This genuine....
“He hasn’t helped me since,” Choso grins, laughing with you.