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Sometimes, Mafuyu wondered if he ever cried in his sleep. He’d heard that people sometimes cry while sleeping without being directly conscious of it, whether from lingering stress in their subconscious or from nightmares. At night, when their darkest thoughts are laid bare in their mind’s eye, the waterworks are unleashed involuntarily, and sometimes, they’re none the wiser. Some wake up with a damp pillow or with salty tear tracks running down their faces. Some rise in the morning feeling off, and then look in the mirror to find their eyes red and puffy like they’ve caught a cold.
Mafuyu never woke to a wet pillow, or to rivulets of water staining his face, or puffy eyes. Just the same old hollowness of his chest, his world disturbingly silent and void of music and laughter.
“There’s a hole in your stomach. The hole in your heart, even if it becomes smaller…it’ll never close completely.”
But it didn’t make any sense. If he didn’t even cry while he wasn’t conscious, when did he? Could he even cry? It frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t pinpoint something as simple as this.
Believe him, he was all too aware of his shortcomings. He’d never been able to express himself or feel things like other people, emotions like genuine joy, anger, and sadness often evading him. Back in his earliest stages of primary school, his poker face used to make kids wary of him, and people were often put off by his neutral, quiet, and outwardly emotionless nature. He was told that he took things too literally, jokes flying over his head and leaving him puzzled. His teachers frequently pulled him aside to ask him if something was wrong at home, concerned about how he never smiled or laughed or played with the other children. After a while, they stopped asking, realizing they couldn’t get answers out of the quiet boy no matter how much they tried.
Yuki had been the first to see all of his peculiarity and simply shrug and embrace it, despite the fact that they were so different. He was funny, friendly, and loved by everyone, and Mafuyu was boring, awkward, and invisible. But they were best friends. And then more. Mafuyu saw light and colors, he heard music in everything from the way the breeze rustled through the trees to the way Yuki laughed, bright and beautiful like tinkling bells. There were stars in the other boy’s eyes, a whole world of endless possibilities that they explored together, and nothing else mattered except for the odd thumping reverberating through Mafuyu’s insides like beating drums, and what felt like sunshine in his heart. It didn’t matter that Mafuyu’s house was always cold and empty when he returned from school, only his dog coming to greet him, or that his mother sobbed alone in her room at night when she thought Mafuyu wasn’t listening. The only thing that mattered was Yuki, Yuki, Yuki. All was well.
Until it wasn’t.
They had that stupid argument, and it was the first time in his life that Mafuyu had truly yelled at someone. He couldn’t identify the tightness in his chest or understand the lump in his throat, but he knew he wanted it to go away. His brain had been screaming at him to stop, to not keep hurting the love of his life the way he was, to give them both some space to mull things over and talk later. But for once, Mafuyu didn’t relent, and his words were suddenly sharper and biting, and he could see the raw hurt in Yuki’s eyes as they pierced his heart. Mafuyu felt horrible. He was a horrible person. Who was he to tear apart the one person in his life who loved him for him, and accepted him for who he was? Rubbing salt in his wounds and pushing him over the edge when he was already so very clearly struggling?
“Would you die for me, then?”
And then Yuki was gone, and Mafuyu was alone again. Their two other friends tried to reach out, but they kept grasping at nothing but air. Mafuyu took Yuki’s guitar for no particular reason, his brain eerily empty and a gaping hole in his chest.
“The hole in your heart, even if it becomes smaller…it’ll never close completely. It’ll never close, never, it’ll always be there–”
And, like a coward, he ran from his problems.
His world was silent, and everything had frozen over. There was no more music and no more colors.
Mafuyu didn’t cry once. It tore at him how insensitive he was, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t cry. He’d somehow reverted back into the person he once was before Yuki, the quiet, lonely little boy who received nothing and gave nothing in return. He was numb, and his surroundings were always blurry and shifting, like he was simply a spectator of his own life, detached from his body.
It wasn’t until he met the boy at the staircase that he wanted to start again, to try to be somebody again.
Uenoyama was so very different from Yuki. Where Yuki was all honeyed words and wide smiles, Uenoyama was rougher edges and intimidating scowls, much more quick to snap.
Different though they were, they were similar in a few ways that mattered most. When they were consumed with passion, they both glowed. They zeroed in on the music they created, and practically became one with their guitar. It was in these moments that Mafuyu saw Yuki in the raven-haired boy, and was inexplicably drawn to him like a comet in the sun’s orbit, always returning no matter how large the distance.
Mafuyu’s life had been on pause, but together, he and Uenoyama hit play.
And, slowly yet surely, the floodgates opened. Mafuyu discovered a newfound passion in him for creating music and being a cog in the well-oiled, perfectly imperfect machine that was their band. He found himself smiling more, enjoying himself more, and feeling less and less guilty for deriving any sort of pleasure out of life even when Yuki wasn’t there with him.
He and Uenoyama practically became joined at the hip, craving each other’s company, and if either teen noticed the lingering touches when their hands brushed or the prolonged eye contact when their gazes met, neither said anything. To Mafuyu, being with Uenoyama just felt right. It was that simple. And he would be damned if the constantly overthinking, ashamed, and scared little boy deep down inside him ever thought otherwise.
The night he, Uenoyama, Kaji, and Haruki performed his song for the first time, Mafuyu felt like a piece of himself had been returned to him as he poured his heart out to whoever chose to listen. He screamed from the rooftops and felt the wrought iron gates within him creaking open to make way for the light. Something raw bled from his voice, and something like a blend of exuberance and anguish pumped through his body from his fingertips all the way down to his feet. You left. It was my fault. I’m sorry. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
Uenoyama had looked at him like he’d hung up the moon even as Mafuyu fell apart in front of him, thanking him with a profusion he could’ve only dreamed of in the past. Uenoyama kissed him, then, and there were no fireworks, no shame, and no butterflies. The world that had once been frozen kept turning, and the clock kept ticking outside of their little bubble. Their hearts beat in sync, previously undone heartstrings stitching themselves together anew like the freshly plucked chords of a guitar.
Mafuyu fell asleep that night and woke up the next morning to a damp pillow pressing against his face, salty dried streaks trailing down his cheekbones. He laughed.
____________________________
After the events that had transpired, Mafuyu found himself becoming more and more enamored with Uenoyama by the day. It was scary how he, a person who was heavily indecisive and slow about practically everything, could so quickly be willing to give his heart to the other boy. But it wasn’t surprising, he didn’t think. He believed Uenoyama deserved the world and more, much more than what Mafuyu could give him.
They did all the couple things, from window shopping to watching the sunset from the boardwalk, holding hands, exchanging kisses—but a lot of the time, they just talked. Shared stories. Uenoyama told him about how he refashioned his dad’s old guitar, and how shocked both his dad and his sister were when he started learning to play with an immense passion they’d never seen from him before. And Mafuyu told him about his own stories from when he was younger, like when he first adopted Tama and how withdrawn he was from other kids at school.
Whenever the conversations inevitably hit somber topics, they squeezed each other's hands in a silent reminder. I’m here. I’m here for you.
And sometimes, Uenoyama would have a request as they sat together, fingers intertwined and the air around them charged with gloom, heartbreak, love, thoughtful ambience, and all the things Mafuyu couldn’t name but understood all too well.
“Sing for me.”
And Mafuyu always complied.
Uenoyama watched him with pure adoration and wonder as he sang for his past, for the moment, and for all the love he would continue to give in the future. Sometimes he’d join in, their voices harmonizing together beautifully, and Mafuyu finally felt that spark of connection with another human with every fiber of his being, ever since he’d lost Yuki. And he wanted to cry. It was so very bittersweet and strange, how close he often found himself getting to tears since he’d met Uenoyama. Like he’d found his other half after a taxing, arduous search, long after a part of him had been cruelly torn away.
Mafuyu thought he loved him.
No, he knew he did.
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“Sing for me.”
They were in Uenoyama’s room on a Friday evening, time having slipped away from them yet again as they talked about anything and everything. Mafuyu’s head was pillowed on Uenoyama’s lap, and the blue-eyed boy was smiling softly down at him, a special smile that was reserved for only Mafuyu to see.
Mafuyu marveled at the other, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. Uenoyama had grabbed him by the hem of his soul and pulled him back from the brink of the deepest pit of despair, of the worst of the grief he didn’t know how to handle. He’d given him purpose again and returned the color, the music to his empty life, all rooting from the moment he mended his snapped guitar string. He helped him begin to move on, made him feel a wide new range of emotions he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, and led him to realize just how painfully human he was under all his layers.
Yes, Mafuyu owed everything to Uenoyama. Everything.
Uenoyama must have picked up on the gooey heart eyes Mafuyu was making up at him, and he laughed, one hand coming down to ruffle his hair. His laugh was different from Yuki’s—lower and more sonorous—but no less bright and charming. It was Mafuyu’s favorite sound, more than any song he’d heard. He could listen to it forever.
“Oi. Sato.” Uenoyama poked at his temple, index finger brushing against red bangs, his other hand still stroking his hair. It was relaxing; Mafuyu closed his eyes in restful bliss. “What’s going on in that crazy head of yours?”
“I love you,” Mafuyu blurted out before his brain could catch up with his mouth. Crap.
Uenoyama’s hand stilled in brushing the knots out of his hair, and Mafuyu felt him stiffen under him as his breath audibly hitched. Mafuyu panicked a little.
“I–I mean–”
“Say it again.”
Mafuyu startled at the insistence in Uenoyama's voice, still not having opened his eyes to face the elder. He was almost scared to, but immediately knew that was silly. This was Uenoyama. What else could Mafuyu do but love him?
“Look at me.” Uenoyama’s voice was shaking.
Mafuyu did, prying his eyes open to lock gazes with the other, orange-brown meeting blue. His breath caught in his throat when he was met with the most open expression he’d ever seen on Uenoyama’s face. The boy’s eyes were shining, a thin sheen of tears collecting at their rims. His lips were parted in shock, bottom lip slightly trembling and a pretty pink flush crawling up his neck. He was beautiful. Mafuyu would never see him as anything but absolutely beautiful.
“You mean it?” He asked in the weakest voice he could’ve possibly mustered.
Mafuyu nodded vigorously, and Uenoyama looked for a moment like he was concerned his head would snap off from his neck. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
“Then say it again. Please.”
Uenoyama was pleading. With him. The irony of the situation would’ve been laughable if this were under any other circumstances.
“I love you, Ritsuka.”
Uenoyama’s face crumpled as a few tears fell and the droplets plopped onto Mafuyu’s face, rolling off his skin like rainwater cascading off a hill. Mafuyu immediately pulled his head off the other’s lap, hands reaching up to gently wipe at Uenoyama’s face as he choked on a sob, pulling Mafuyu flush against him and burying his face in his neck. Soon, they were both gripping onto each other like it was their sole lifeline and crying, and Mafuyu yet again was astonished at how effortlessly Uenoyama brought out these strong emotional responses within him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, Ritsuka”, he whispered brokenly into the skin beneath his ear lobe as Uenoyama melted against him, squeezing him impossibly tighter.
“I love you too, Sato.”
They pulled away from the embrace just enough so they could see each other’s faces. They were both grinning, wide and wobbly, and Uenoyama brushed back Mafuyu’s bangs to plant a sweet kiss against his forehead. Mafuyu let out a giggle as Uenoyama’s hands cupped his face, his lips scattering butterfly kisses all over his cheeks, eyelids, nose, lips—anywhere the black-haired boy could reach.
After the little affection attack was over, the two teenagers simply pressed their foreheads together, content to exist in the moment, the past and future temporarily forgotten. They fell asleep tucked into each other, nothing but the stars outside the window bearing witness to their love as their worlds continued to collide in a flurry of colors, warmth, and music.
Mafuyu’s world had been silent and muted and dull, bright and hopeful, and then back again. Until it wasn’t—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.