Work Text:
two am i’m waiting for a leap
of faith from you to me
sweat drips from my apathy
“even if it hurts”- tei shi feat. blood orange
the better 芥川 @hellhound 10m
one of these days, he’s going to burn his fur on the stove top. it’ll be his own fault if he does. #catswiththreateningauras #help #catdadproblems
[image: a cup of steaming tea where the steam is clearly visible in the camera, a rich brown color indicating oolong tea, with a creeping sedum donkey’s tail succulent in the foreground that curls around the frame of the picture. The metal of the iron stove top is visible to the right of the picture, but the object taking up most of the space is a massive Norwegian Forest Cat-Maine Coon mix with pitch black fur and bright orange eyes curled around the cup of tea, staking his claim on the countertop and mouth opened to reveal bright white, sharp looking teeth in mid-yowl, probably for attention. There’s a gentle filter to the picture and around the side of the cup is a single hand curled into the handle, fingers slender and pale-skinned.]
91 🔁12k ♡20k
The morning routine began as a way for Gin to have something to smile about after Ryuunosuke had saved enough money to emancipate himself and her from their Uncle and Aunt’s house. Even when they didn’t have much else but a mattress they shared for the first two weeks in their first shabby apartment, they had tea cups, a kettle, sencha, and a crawling succulent that their neighbor gave them as a welcoming gift. In the morning, he'd get up, start the kettle and wait until the tea was steeped and finished before taking a picture to share with his followers. While doing it for his followers was a factor in why it’d become a daily routine, an expectation that kept the income flowing, it was more for Gin than anyone else—it was why he started making videos in the first place.
Anything to make Gin smile or laugh made the embarrassment that went into making his videos worth it. The income that came from an impulse decision and the career that grew from stupid Youtube videos based in his grim, blunt sense of humor and the work of shadow puppetry was an added bonus. When it became a steady source of money and then enough to leave their situation, Ryuunosuke took the avenue given and went at full throttle. Within a year, he had enough to get them both out of their horrible relatives house. That was over four years ago.
Settling into his balcony chair, Ryuunosuke exhaled and leaned back to take a deep gulp of his oolong. Rashomon meowed loudly and Ryuunosuke lifted his arms to let his cat into his lap. The animal taking his claim with a content purr, louder when Ryuunosuke ran his fingers through his thick fur along his back, Ryuunosuke frowned as he glared into the growing sunset.
For the first two hours of his morning, he would contemplate what to do for this week’s video. Grabbing his little notebook after lowering his cup, he started to write down notes as he pondered and struggled with ideas. After a half hour of coming up with nothing, Ryuunosuke growled softly under his breath and held his head in his hands, rubbing his temple.
Maybe I should ask Nakahara-san if he still wants to do a collab, thought Ryuunosuke, even as his nose wrinkled at the thought. Knowing Chuuya, the somalie would try to coerce him to finally liking wine at last through their collaboration and Ryuunosuke was not interested in that. Asking Dazai was out of the question, also, and Ryuunosuke wasn’t ready to deal with the humiliation of asking him, too. The man would never let this little writers block down and he knew it. He’d already been making sly comments on twitter about how Ryuunosuke seemed to be struggling with making decent content for the past couple months—
Losing your edge, Akutagawa-kun?
His skin bristled at the thought and he clenched his teeth.
When there was nothing else for him to do, Ryuunosuke went to his last resort: scrolling through his recommended videos to look for inspiration. He spent a solid ten minutes scrolling through his phone, bored, before his eyes caught a gentle pastel lavender eye-catch card. Curious and nothing else to do, he clicked the video.
Gentle guitar streamed from the speakers.
The lavender pastel cover faded slightly to show hands strumming an acoustic guitar: some fingertips had bandages covering the nails, but the way the fingers held onto the guitar was careful, as if it were fragile as spun sugar.
The voice came next, somber and sweet, rain on a cool Tokyo morning—
“Crown of leaves, high in the window of a gold morning/Young today, old as a railroad tomorrow—“
Normally, Ryuunosuke would click away after half a minute of listening to a song video or MV, bored already: his tastes in music were quite specific and didn’t normally lean towards this style of music, the borderline lofi, soft and sentimental kind.
He listened and watched the whole thing.
When it was finished, a full four minutes of poetic lyrics, gentle guitar and a breathy, soft voice that was hidden behind the camera, the echo telling Ryuunosuke that it had to have been sung in a closet or some recording room, organically raw and beautiful— he was already looking through the singer’s channel.
Byakko Chain— the name was darker than the sound he (presumably) gave off in his music. Mostly acoustic guitar with some electronic instruments added to fill the rest of the songs, but the guitar always at the center. Not all of the songs had lyrics, some even verging on a lofi sound, and that was not Ryuunosuke’s style of music, but he found himself listening to all of them.
It was only when he was composing an email to Byakko Chain that he realized something peculiar about them, even more than the sudden surprise at seeing that the artist was already subscribed to him, along with his other social medias—
He never showed his face.
All Ryuunosuke had was his voice, his guitar, and his hands.
On the other side of Yokohama, a young man with silver hair and bag-heavy eyes lowered his guitar case against a chair while he sat down in it, his backpack full of heavy textbooks falling to the floor. Throwing his head back, he exhaled and sagged against the back, exhausted.
“I’ll go into the studio after my next class,” he murmured to himself. He’d do a cover this time, one of his favorite songs from Arcade Fire. He’d been having trouble coming up with lyrics lately. He’d had too many papers to go through and finish the past month. The next break he had, he’d dedicate it to song writing.
Content with that, he nodded his head and settled into a quick nap before his next class in half an hour.
A faint buzz from his phone woke him up not five minutes later, causing him to nearly drop it out of alarm. Face scrunched in confusion, he squinted at the notification and opened it, curious.
Chatting college students paused when a high-pitched screech of HOLY SHIT came out, muffled, through the door of the empty practice room.
Request for Song Usage
From: [email protected]
Hello,
I apologize if this seems sudden, but I saw your work in my recommendations and after listening to several of your songs, I was quite impressed. I see that you have a band camp where your songs are free for download. Before doing so, I would like to request the privilege to use your songs as background music for my videos. I do vlogs and some comic skits. You will be compensated for their usage monetarily and be credited, naturally.
If not, I humbly apologize for disturbing you.
Sincerely
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke
Re: Request for Song Usage
From: [email protected]
wow! i really don’t know what to say, but… thank you! to have such a big name like yourself like my music is humbling and overwhelming, haha. you of course have my permission to use my music for your videos if you like! all i want is credit, you don’t need to pay me or anything!
i’m just happy to see that my music has managed to reach someone. seriously, that’s all i could ever want :)
best, and looking forward to your next videos!
byakko chain
Re:Request for Song Usage
From: [email protected]
Nonsense. It’s your music that I’m using for my videos—I want to make sure that you’re going to get a proper share of the income you’re getting from it.
Re: Request for Song Usage
From: [email protected]
really, it’s okay! i don’t exactly expect to make money off of my music: nice as it would be to do that, eventually, (maybe one day), i can’t ask you to do that. the only thing I could really want from all of this is to get some more exposure and maybe get enough of a following to create more music.
just you saying where you got the music from would be plenty enough, or even just crediting me. i don’t need much more than that.
Early in the morning on an innocuous Wednesday, “Silent Dog” Akutagawa Ryuunosuke uploaded a fifteen minute long video titled, “My Sister Teaches A Novice How to Crotchet.” In the video, a woman with long dark hair, neatly braided to the side, sits next to Ryuunosuke on the floor against the couch, where the spool of yarn they’ve individually chosen is in full view, along with the lower halves of their faces. The yarn is a deep purple color, and their crochet hooks are a deep red and dark blue respectively. The video consists of roughly five minutes of his nameless sister teaching him how to use the hook and how to go through the loops before the rest of the video consists of his struggle to work though the pattern of the afghan she’s attempting to help him make.
While the video goes on, two songs play: soft, subdued in nature, one being instrumental and electronic but gentle, the other a vocal song, somber and quiet, full of emotion that’s tampered down with something far too heavy for a single pair of shoulders to carry.
It’s a change from the typical background noise of Silent Dog’s videos, which usually have royalty free and non-copyright music. Those more in the know of the smaller music channels of the platform might recognize the voice, others feel their ears piqued with curiosity, and some don’t care at all.
There’s a single notable element to the end of the video that drew the attention of each viewer:
All music used is by Byakko Chain, follow him here and give him some subscriptions:
YouTube @byakkochain
Twitter @byakkochain
He’s good. Give him some attention.
un-alive me @dazaiohohosamu
oh my… the most pretentious vlogger i know making a shout out to an unknown? how interesting!! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
120 🔁1.2k ♡3k
nakahara chuuya @givemeboozeorgivemedeath
shut up mackerel this was a nice fuckin video, ‘kutagawa. this style is kinda new for you, i like it. the music you chose is pretty nice too, i’ll give @byakkochain a follow too lol maybe i’ll ask to use their stuff, too. he’s good.
332 🔁4k ♡1.5k
odasaku’s enby wife @saneopt
wow i don’t think silent dog has ever promo’d a musician on his channel before??? he barely even collaborates wtf i’ve never heard of this guy where did he find him
12 🔁 27 ♡ 31
nakahara’s eyebrow threader @atriumtree
oh shit this guy does instrumental lofi, covers AND original songs??? he’s got a really nice voice.. never shows his face tho. weird lol maybe he’s ugly
30 🔁 2 ♡ 45
white tiger lovebot @hornruckus
you take that back rIGHT NOW byakko chain is a gIFT sent from GOD
nakahara’s eyebrow threader @atriumtree
why won’t he show his face tho lmao don’t be so pressed it’s okay if he’s ugly he’s got a nice voice
white tiger lovebot @hornruckus
unlike the vloggers y’all follow who never seem to shut up about the dumbest shit in their lives, Some people like to stay private. he’s a small channel don’t bully him you vultures
(show 32 replies)
(squidward vc) MY WIFE @pelicandeflected
oh my god byakko chain is finally getting the recognition he deserves!! and by one of my fave vloggers! he’s such a good musician and he’s shy and very private, so respect that!! he deserves a much larger following than he currently has 😭
28 🔁 400 ♡ 1.2k
byakko protection squad @okraplatoon
in this house we respect byakko chain’s wish to be anonymous and to do otherwise gets broken kneecaps i’ll cut you bitch
5 🔁 1.7 ♡ 2.3k
exam hell @byakkochain
i went from less than two thousand followers to over seven oh my gosh where did you all come from???
186 🔁 4.6 ♡ 7.5k
>[ the better 芥川 @hellhound followed you]
>[ exam hell @byakkochain followed you]
“exam hell” has sent you a message
exam hell
i feel like you just put a curse on me
the better 芥川
Odd way to thank someone for giving you a shout out. You’re welcome, by the way.
exam hell
i AM thankful!! i just didn’t expect thousands of people to start flooding my mentions and notifications! i think it just about killed at least half of my battery power on my phone. i kept getting so many push notifs i almost got in trouble with my professor.
oh my god, i might have to get a new phone if this keeps up.
the better 芥川
Tragic. Internet fame can, indeed, be a curse.
exam hell
i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or if you’re just being rude. you were so much more polite when you first emailed me!
oh my god i’m sorry now i’m the one being rude oh my god i’m sorry
the better 芥川
It’s fine. I’m not bothered lol.
I’m told that my ‘rudeness’ is part of my appeal as an online presence. My sister tells me I don’t know how to turn it off, at times. I was only messing with you a little. My apologies. It’s been a long time for me, I’ve almost forgotten how overwhelming all of the attention can be at first.
Turn off the notifications on your phone, or else it really will burn through your phone battery. I unfortunately learned that the hard way, and it wasn’t nearly as nice of a phone as I have now. I’d suggest turning off your YouTube notifs, too. You’re probably going to be getting a lot of them soon, if you haven’t already.
exam hell
oh, well, thank you! this helps a lot! i haven’t been at this for very long, not as long as you have, it’s all pretty new to me, still. i didn’t think i would get nearly that many followers and subscribers that quickly, i’m not a vlogger and i don’t do any skits or rants or anything fun like that… i think i’m pretty boring by comparison haha
but
i really do appreciate the shout out. thank you.
[the typing emoji. it stops. a few minutes pass. then it appears again.]
the better 芥川
It’s nothing to thank me for. Someone would’ve given you a shout-out at some point. You are a skilled musician. Don’t downplay yourself nor your skills. I wouldn’t have asked to use your music if it wasn’t good.
[a five minute pause. no sign of the typing emoji. a slight intake of breath and sharp exhale. a curse under the breath. it appears and a body sags into a plush chair, a black cat raising his head to peer up at his person.]
exam hell
..thank you. really. thank you.
[a maine coone mixed cat meows and yawns when his person stands up with a sigh and goes to heat up the dinner that was prepared by his sister earlier. he could cook when he wanted, but he saw it more as a chore than anything enjoyable: nothing extravagant, just enough to sustain him. he turns on the kettle and stirs his kasujiru, waiting for the water to boil to brew his sencha. his phone vibrates ten minutes later.
the sleeping rashomon raises his head at a sudden huff of laughter.]
exam hell
WHAT
[cropped screenshot of a YouTube subscriber count: 115k)
Who Got You Singing Again? - PREP
They don’t talk every day, at first. Ryuunosuke has days where he has to shoot and edit videos, with Gin looking over his shoulder to proofread and help him with any last minute edits and additions to his videos. In a way, she was like his PR specialist, but she was so much more than that, and not just because she was his sister. Since Ryuunosuke did his editing and shooting mostly by himself, he’d spend two full work days at the least to edit his videos. Those were days he all but turned off his phone as he worked during said hours.
Byakko—as Ryuunosuke had begun to call him, as the musician still hadn’t revealed his real name, which he could respect— was a student just as much as he was a musician, and it was midterms for him. Evidently, from the times they spend messaging each other on Twitter, Byakko was a self-taught guitarist who dabbled in some other instruments when he could, but resorted to electronic instruments when he needed a certain sound that he wasn’t capable of making authentically on his own. As such, Byakko’s priority was to his studies, and then with the free time that university allotted him, he used for his music. He put out a new song at least every other week; an instrumental piece, a cover, and then a new song.
Ryuunosuke asked two more times to have permission to use his music in videos before Byakko gave him the go ahead to use his music whenever he wanted: you don’t need to ask permission anymore lol. you have it for as long as you want!! with credit of course ☆⌒ ( ゝ。 ∂).
Every video he made afterwards used Byakko’s music as background noise and it seemed to change the aesthetic and vibes of his videos from that point onward. At the end of every vlog, where he tried out new teas, told stories about his sister, Dazai and how he met Chuuya, he would credit Byakko’s music and list his social media handles for his viewers to check out.
Within two months, Byakko’s followers on twitter reached to the five digits, almost 70,000. On YouTube, he’d reached 500,000 followers. He was now getting advertisements and viewer monetization of his work. The numbers continued to go up.
They started to talk more after Byakko sent him a heartfelt message on twitter, both a public one and a private one in their DMs, at virtually the same time. (which had been an on-going session over the past two months: he was alarmingly easy to talk to, surprisingly sarcastic and funny, and exuded such warmth in everything he said that Ryuunosuke had begun to look forward to their increasingly more common and daily conversations)—
B Y A K K O ✈️ secret project @byakkochain
i finally have the means to buy new recording equipment and a microphone, and i could not have done it without not only you all who listen to my work, but @hellhound, who gave me the running start. thank you.
492 🔁10k ♡46k
His phone went off at the same time with a notification and Ryuunosuke held his breath as he saw the little ‘1’ on his messages tab. He swallowed. Thumb pressing the little notification, he opened his direct messages.
B Y A K K O ✈️ secret project
i’m NOT letting you make some statement or comment about how you ‘didn’t do all that much’ so i’m stopping you right now, because you don’t know just how much your shout outs have helped me, and a single tweet isn’t enough to say so: i’ve been recording my songs in a closet at my apartment and at a studio in the library at school, but because you’ve been giving me so many shout outs, i have enough funds to buy proper equipment so i don’t have to rent out the space as much. i can finally pay my half of rent without worrying so much about taking on more hours to make up for utilities. i can buy new guitar strings in case mine snap. i can maybe even get an amplifier.
i sincerely cannot thank you enough, akutagawa. i don’t know what to say except to thank you over and over again.
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and Ryuunosuke felt a little huff through his nose escape him, drawing the attention of Rashomon in the middle of grooming himself. Leaning his hip against the counter of his kitchen island, Ryuunosuke’s fingers typed away with ease on his phone, barely looking up even as his cat leapt onto his shoulder to peer down at the device.
the better 芥川
I’m sure you already know what I’m going to say, but I only gave you the kickstart you needed: the followers would’ve come, because you’re good enough. I just might have given you a boost. I wouldn’t have if I didn’t think you weren’t deserving of the recognition. Congratulations, Byakko.
There was a long pause after Ryuunosuke sent his reply. He could tell that Byakko had seen it by the checkmark beneath the message. He found himself gripping his phone a little tighter than he ought’ve when he saw the typing emoji, only to pause and disappear. A few more minutes passed and Ryuunosuke scoffed at himself: of all the things to be anxious about, it shouldn’t be about hearing back from a musician notable for how private he was, and yet, he still found himself wondering—
Was that too much Did I overstep bounds Oh fuck Dammit —
A soft ‘ping’ answered him.
Exhaling, he looked down and swiped open his phone again.
B Y A K K O ✈️ secret project
atsushi.
the better 芥川
..Pardon?
B Y A K K O ✈️ secret project
that’s my name. my real name. you don’t have to call me ‘byakko’ anymore.
[a two minute pause.]
the better 芥川
Why are you telling me this?
B Y A K K O ✈️ secret project
i feel weird about you calling me by my stage name when you’ve been so consistently helping me, even though you don’t have to, and you still talk to me outside of business transactions and
well
i trust you enough by now that i feel safe to tell you my real name. treat it with care ( ⌒ ‿ ⌒ )
[another pause. the lowering of a phone, the pacing of feet against the kitchen tile. a sharp inhale and slow exhale as fingers curl around a chin. a black cat swishes his tail as he watches his person lower his phone, then lift it back up. fingers begin to type.]
the better 芥川
Nice to meet you, Atsushi. I’ll be sure to keep it safe. You can call me Ryuunosuke from now on.
They talk every day from then on.
There’s a paradigm shift. Ryuunosuke shed the persona of the Vlogger and YouTuber, and Byakko took off his mask to show himself as Atsushi. Ryuunosuke learned that Atsushi was a literature student in a large port city, his throat jumping at the thought possibility that Atsushi could be in Yokohama too, but that would be far too much of a coincidence, so he never asked. Ryuunosuke shared that he’d been thinking of going back to school to study art, specifically calligraphy and the history attached to the physical art of writing. He confessed that one day, he wanted to hang up the YouTuber mantle and shared how exhausting it was to be a public face on a platform where watchers assumed they knew everything about him.
Atsushi admitted that that was why he didn’t like showing his face on camera, and that was the reason that most of his videos were just of his hands and his lower body, face obscured. The thought of someone finding him in public, thinking they knew everything about him when he kept his own background so tightly to his chest, scared him.
After a few more weeks, as Atsushi’s viewership grew until he was just about to breach 1 million subscribers, Atsushi told him that he’d grown up in an orphanage all his life until he was kicked out at 18. He didn’t know anything about his birth parents, only the name given to him on a birth register. He didn’t know if they were alive or dead, or if his surname was real or not. At two AM during the middle of the week, during a long string of messages Atsushi told him, I’m not sure I want to know.
My father was killed in a train accident when I was six and my mother was committed to a mental hospital by my Aunt and Uncle, her brother. She died there. I was ten. I don’t know if it was by suicide or not.
Ryuunosuke began to share things that he’d never told anyone, not even for the sake of a story on YouTube. There was so many things he never shared online, had never wanted to. But with Atsushi, over the months, it became as easy do as it was to drink water.
The greatest shift came when he and Atsushi exchanged phone numbers, taking their conversations off of twitter DMs and carefully constructed tweets sent to one another and replied to, mindful of their overly nosy audiences. Their fans had already begun to notice and talk amongst themselves about why Atsushi’s work as Byakko Chain kept showing up in Ryuunosuke’s videos and why they started frequently retweeting from each other. Ryuunosuke had his notifications muted for a good reason years ago; this was all new to Atsushi, and he seemed to take whatever advice he could from Ryuunosuke, for fear of getting overwhelmed. Particularly when Nakahara and Dazai started following his platform, bringing their legions of followers to the poor musician as they interacted with him on twitter and name dropped him several times in their own videos—Nakahara in his Vino Historia series, and Dazai in his bizarre practical effects and ‘prank’ videos.
But they didn’t have Byakko Chain’s real name. Neither of them knew who Atsushi was nor had his phone number. Only Ryuunosuke had that.
That brought him a certain kind of pleasure he didn’t know he could possess.
The first time he heard Atsushi’s voice—not his singing voice, but his voice— it was late: Ryuunosuke had borderline chronic sleeping issues, much to Gin’s distress and worry, though he brushed off her quiet suggestions that he go to the doctor to get a prescription to aid his sleeping. He’d barely been doing much of anything but listening to one of Atsushi’s older songs, a quiet lofi piece, when he received the message at three in the morning.
Atsushi
can i call you?
Atsushi
i know it’s late but
i don’t know. i think i need to talk to someone. someone that’s not my roommate. he’s asleep and i don’t want to bother him.
i’d just like to hear your voice.
please.
Ryuunosuke, after feeling his heart leap into his throat with such force his chest hurt, didn’t offer Atsushi the chance to back out or take back his desperate sounding request.
Me
Of course.
On bated breath, Ryuunosuke placed his phone on the comforter of his bed, his stomach rolling and twisting. He waited.
The phone lit up not three seconds later.
The kanji of Atsushi’s name stared up at him.
He let it ring two times before his thumb slammed on the receive. A beat passed. Ryuunosuke wet his lips, feeling Rashomon stir and sidle up underneath his arm before falling back asleep against his lap. There was silence on the other end of the phone. The entire city had gone quiet outside of Ryuunosuke’s window. He put his phone on speaker and he heard the faint, slightly muffled sound of breathing.
Lips parting, Ryuunosuke inhaled.
“Atsushi?”
A soft noise on the other side. Then, a breathy noise that sounded slightly manic, but seared with exhaustion. It was laughter. Soft, gentle. It hit through Ryuunosuke like a punch to the stomach.
“You sound different than you do in your videos.”
A disbelieving noise left Ryuunosuke. He narrowed his eyes at his phone, picked it up and cradled it in his hands as he leaned back against his pillows. Rashomon shifted some to better curl in his lap.
“That’s rich,” he drawled, his voice low so as to not wake his sister, “Coming from a musician that never shows his face nor talks at all in any of his.”
Atsushi’s laughter was brighter on the other side of the phone, so bright Ryuunosuke could practically hear the smile within it, just as he could imagine Atsushi’s smiles in his texts and direct messages. He didn’t have to see his face to hear and feel the sincerity in the noise, the way he breathed, just like the way he typed: he knew Atsushi’s voice far too well to not know. Tension in his back released and he sagged into his pillows. He reached for his almost-lukewarm jasmine tea on his nightstand and drank.
“You’re still just as rude off-camera as you are in your messages,” teased Atsushi. Now, he could definitely hear the grin.
Ryuunosuke scoffed.
They talked on the phone for over an hour— never about what it was that caused Atsushi to suddenly ask to hear his voice on the phone nor why the other man was up so late in the evening, and Atsushi didn’t ask him either. Most phone calls that Ryuunosuke made didn’t last any longer than five or ten minutes, and that was usually only with Gin. Never had he fallen asleep while listening to someone else breathe steadily over the phone, finally soothed to sleep after whatever caused him to do something so impulsive as asking a man he only knew through an LED screen to talk to him in the middle of the night. Ryuunosuke waited until Atsushi was asleep before he turned off his phone to do the same. It ended at nearly 3:30 in the morning.
When Ryuunosuke woke up nearly seven hours later, it was to another message from Atsushi: but it wasn’t text.
It was a voice message.
“I don’t think I’ve slept that well in so long… You really helped, Ryuu— Oh, I hope it’s okay that I call you that, I’ve been calling you that in my head for over a month, now, and, ah— If it’s not okay, that’s fine! I won’t call you that anymore. But.. really. Thank you. I think hearing your voice, your real one, not the one you put on for your viewers, made the nightmares go away. I think I like your real voice better. Sleep well, Ryuu.”
Ryuunosuke listened to the voice message five times on repeat. Rashomon kneaded at his chest as Ryuunosuke looked out his window, the sun high in the late morning air. The Maine Coone mix meowed loudly at him, nudging at his chin by the snout, as Ryuunosuke rubbed at his chest where he could feel how fast his heart was beating.
“Shit,” he breathed.
On the other side of Yokohama, a young man with silver hair felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he leaned over his desk, writing out lyrics and melodies. He pulled out his phone, sucked in his breath at the little play button on the bubble, put in his headphones, and pressed it.
“I normally only get maybe three hours of sleep at a time. Talking to you gave me seven. You can call me Ryuu if you want. I don’t mind at all. And for the record—I like your normal voice as much as your singing one, if not more.”
On the other side of Yokohama, a young man with messy silver hair and peculiar violet-gold eyes smiled.
A week later, Byakko Chain released his first official EP: Yokohama Bay Hotel.
When I fall to my feet
Wearing my heart on my sleeve
All I see just don't make sense
You are the port of my call
You shot and leaving me raw
Now I know you're amazing
The change in Byakko Chain’s sound, lyrics and themes had not gone unnoticed by his fans, listeners, and certainly not by Ryuunosuke. Time and time again did he see comments where fans pondered on the musician’s love life, sometimes buried underneath the displeased comments that weren’t happy about the change in sound, which were then disputed by other commenters enjoying the improvement Byakko was showing.
He’d long since gone past one million subscribers on YouTube. He had well over forty thousand followers on twitter. Steadily, he was rising upward on the ladder of internet fame, and it was something Atsushi confessed to feeling incredibly unreal during their voice calls and long strings of text conversations.
“It doesn’t feel real,” murmured Atsushi, his phone clearly tucked between his chin and a pillow. Ryuunosuke could hear the sleepiness in his voice.
“It never does,” replied Ryuunosuke, fingers gently curled between his fingers as he looked out the window. Rashomon sat on his chest, the only weight on a far too large, far too empty bed.
They texted each other every day. They had voice calls every other. Ryuunosuke still hadn’t seen his face. He didn’t ask. He considered it, considered pushing that other wall of Atsushi’s carefully constructed privacy and anonymity, falling prey to the most frequent request of all of Atsushi’s fans—
totokawa supremacy @ cuckoooff
byakko-san!! please show us your face!! don’t be so shy! #askbyakko @byakkochain
239 🔁 20.6k ♡ 44k
—But Ryuunosuke didn’t want to sound like just another one of those far too nosy fans: he wasn’t. He had something that those strangers didn’t have: Atsushi’s voice. His name.
Something dark and selfish wanted to cling onto that, to cherish and hoard that precious information and privilege like the beast of his namesake, never wanting to share it with the rest of the world. Atsushi had yet to reveal not only his face but his real name with his fans, never even made any videos where he wasn’t singing or playing music: the most interaction he gave to his fans were his Q&As on twitter with his fans, where he’d spend roughly an hour talking to his fans. With Ryuunosuke’s help, he’d become selective with his answers and which questions he’d be willing to answer: the request for his face and name was the most frequent.
After the EP dropped, there was another—
black jackal lovemail @echone
byakko-san, your EP has a lot of love songs on it (which are all amazing!)—is there someone you’re in love with? #askbyakko @byakkochain
73 🔁 17.3k ♡ 21k
B Y A K K O @ EP out now! @byakkochain
@echone i think i’ll leave it up to you guys to interpret that on your own (= ⌒ ‿‿ ⌒ =)
501 🔁 23k ♡ 75k
Ryuunosuke had never felt his stomach swoop so violently in nearly five years.
Struck with nausea and a tight chest, so tight that he felt a harsh cough crawl up his throat, Ryuunosuke had to put his phone down, close his laptop and stand against the railing of his balcony. Gin had been concerned, gently touching his shoulder and asking him, Are you okay, Nii-san, to which he couldn’t give her an answer. She left for ten minutes and then came back with a cup of warm ginger-turmeric tea. He only managed to drink half of it. He stood against the balcony for an hour, glaring down at the city as dusk settled and gave the dark blue sky a faint glow from the high-rises and skyscrapers. Berating himself for being so stupid as to get worked up over a tweet of all things, Ryuunosuke clicked his tongue against his teeth sharply and went back inside.
“You’re sulking,” said Gin. She didn’t look up from the wok as she tossed the tofu and added the spinach. She only stopped when Rashomon meowed at her to lower a piece of mackerel to him, earning a happy trill.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” she said, bringing the plates of finished stir fry over to their little kitchen table. “I know you are, because you’ve left your phone in your room all day.” At her brother’s silence, she bit into her tofu and chewed. “You could just ask him, you know.”
Ryuunosuke scowled at his plate, gripping his chopsticks far harder than he needed to. He didn’t touch his food yet.
“What reason do I have to ask him anything? There’s nothing going on—“
“Nii-san,” cut Gin, tone cross.
Ryuunosuke said nothing.
Slowly, Ryuunosuke began to eat, chewing slowly and forcing himself to swallow, all without looking at his sister. He heard Gin sigh heavily and he felt his neck color red, flushed with mortification that he was stringently ignoring.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” said Gin. She reached over the table and put her hand on top of his, slender fingers pressing against his own. “It’s okay that you like him, you know—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you talk to someone else that isn’t a camera or me this much. Atsushi-kun seems shy, and I think that he felt safe enough to just tell you his name is a sign enough. He just might’ve not wanted to share something like that online when he’s anonymous and so private, but I think if you’d just ask, he’d share with you.”
She gave his fingers a little squeeze. He looked up and her smile was soft, gentle.
“Take a little risk, Nii-san.”
Swallowing hard, Ryuunosuke squeezed her hand back. He exhaled sharply and gave her a flat look.
“I hate it when you do that,” he muttered, half-hearted.
Gin laughed, mirth twinkling in her dark eyes.
“Well, it paid off last time, didn’t it?”
Grunting, Ryuunosuke pulled his hand away from hers and went back to grudgingly eating the (delicious, as always) dinner she’d prepared for them both. He did his best to ignore the nervous rolling and tightening of his stomach as well the coil of guilt he felt about not having looked at his phone in hours. It was a stupid, stupid thing to avoid, he logically knew that— but the thought of Atsushi writing those songs which had such yearning in them, the tenor and vibrator of his voice practically aching out each lyrics, because he was possibly in love with someone and that not being him—
It was an unusual feeling and he didn’t know what to do with it.
Then there was the chance that it could be about him.
The lyrics were purposefully ambiguous enough to not share any gendered pronouns about the subject of the singer’s affection. No indication of male or female pronouns, which left many of Atsushi’s fans elated and feeling represented, feeling heard and seen, but had Ryuunosuke wondering if it was possible—
And that scared him just as much.
That scared him even more.
After forcing himself to finish dinner and drinking a very strong cup of sencha, Ryuunosuke went to his desk where his phone was laying, face down. He stared at it. It sat idly on his desk, unresponsive. He tsked, inhaled and picked up his phone.
There were seven new messages, all from Atsushi. Ryuunosuke felt a fresh wave of guilt.
The messages started off lighthearted, continuing a conversation from yesterday, then another during the Q&A, and then they faded into confusion, then worry the longer that Ryuunosuke went without replying.
There was a gap of two hours between the second to last message and the newest one.
Atsushi
hey, um… you know you’re not obligated to reply right away and all and this might be too presumptuous of me but… is everything okay? you’re usually on by this time.. i hope you’re all right and i’m just worrying about nothing!
“Fuck,” hissed Ryuunosuke.
Ryuunosuke was not a text-heavy person and barely looked at his own DMs outside of a few other bigger vloggers that he worked with on occasion, but with Atsushi, he was usually quite timely with his replies. The only time he didn’t immediately reply to Atsushi’s messages was when he was shooting and editing, and during these past few months, Atsushi had gotten used to his schedule and vice versa. This was unusual behavior from him. Atsushi noticed and Ryuunosuke cursed himself for his foolish behavior.
He opened the conversation, stared at the empty text box and started typing.
Me
I’m okay: I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long, there was a lot on my mind and I was away from my phone and laptop for a while. Spent some time with Gin. I didn’t mean to be away for so long.
The reply took all of ten minutes. The entire ten minutes he waited, Ryuunosuke was pacing around his room, much to the annoyance of his cat, and drumming his fingers against his desk. When it came, he almost dropped his phone in his haste, like a clumsy child.
Atsushi
ohhh i’m glad you’re okay!! i was really starting to get worried.. i hope i didn’t bother you or anything. bad one?
Ryuunosuke felt his mouth twitch upward.
Me
Kind of. Not too bad by comparison, but not the greatest.
Another thing that Ryuunosuke had only shared with Atsushi: the Bad Days. The ones that stayed over form the years spent in that oppressive household, where the whole world felt like too much. Even when he started filming for his channel, every story he told specifically left out his Aunt, Uncle, and the deaths of their parents. The marks they left on the Akutagawa children were not always visible, but with Gin’s likeness to their mother, and the spitting image of the father their relatives hated that sat on Ryuunosuke’s face, the loathing they could feel from their relatives that bled into their treatment— it was a festering wound that persisted to the present.
Atsushi understood right away, because the orphanage he came from and the man who ran it came straight out of what should have been a Dickensenian nightmare.
He had scars both mental and physical from the years spent there.
The one on Atsushi’s left foot and the story of it made Ryuunosuke sick to his stomach.
There was speculation about the darker songs Atsushi put out on occasion, but Atsushi had never shared it with anyone: nobody but Ryuunosuke.
Atsushi trusted him.
Ryuunosuke had never trusted anyone else with something so close to his chest before.
Biting his inner cheek, Ryuunosuke closed his eyes.
Take a little risk, Nii-san.
He opened them. He began to type.
Me
There’s something I want to ask you. If you’re not comfortable with it, I understand, but hear me out.
Atsushi
oh
sure
what is it???
Take a little risk, Nii-san.
[a shuddering breath.]
Me
Can we meet? Face to face?
Can I meet you in person?
a half hour later
Me
I understand if you don’t want to, I really do. This could be too much of me to ask, but there’s something I need to speak to you about, and it needs to be said in person. Just hearing your voice isn’t enough.
an hour later
Me
We can forget I ever asked. I’m sorry.
two minutes later
Atsushi
i.
i want to see you too.
Atsushi
where do you want to meet?
Take a little risk, Nii-san.
The first time Ryuunosuke heard his sister say that, he started to use his YouTube channel as a means for income, beyond its origins as something to make his sister laugh, and as a means to escape.
He took it.
No words come from above
Our minds were left in the dust, yeah
So, let me take you home, let me take you home
Let me take you home, let me take you home
“Take You Home” - slenderbodies
Tokiwa Park wasn’t as popular of a tourist spot during the colder months, but Ryuunosuke barely felt the cold at all as he leaned over the railing of the pond, gloved hands intertwined as he attempted to stall the nervous, anxious stuttering in his chest. He was failing abysmally. His phone vibrated in his hand.
Atsushi
i’m almost there. train got a bit delayed. just getting off @ wadamachi. sit tight!
“What else do you expect me to do,” grumbled Ryuunosuke, squeezing his fingers around the case of his phone. He swallowed back the anxiety roiling around in his stomach: Wadamachi Station was only ten minutes away. The revelation that Atsushi lived in Yokohama too still made his head spin: it had to be far too much of a coincidence.
Yokohama was a massive city. Ryuunosuke didn’t think it was massive enough to have Atsushi living within the same city limits as him. Over the days, he’d wondered: how many times had they just missed each other? Had he ever seen Atsushi pass by while buying groceries, out on walks, and just taking the train and never noticed because he’d never seen his face before?
How many opportunities did he miss because he was too cowardly to ask?
He still didn’t know what Atsushi looked like. He was going to show himself at Tokiwa Park. That’s what they agreed on.
It felt almost unfair that Atsushi knew what he looked like while Ryuunosuke was left clueless—but he knew the sound of Atsushi’s voice.
Last night, Atsushi had told him, You’ll know it’s me when you see. I’m bringing my guitar with me. You’ll know.
Every now and then, he looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at any other people walking by, wondering, is it you? Is it you? Or is it you? Palms feeling clammy in their gloves and the back of his neck hot from nerves, Ryuunosuke leaned his head forward over the railing and rubbed his temples, sighing in exertion. He hadn’t slept at all the night before: his nerves were too much. No amount of ginger tea managed to calm his stomach. No chamomile managed to soothe him to rest.
Fully holding his head in his hands and inhaling deeply, Ryuunosuke began to wonder, slightly manic— Was this a mistake?
The rush of old shoes, weathered and worn by years’ use, came from a run to a slow stop. They paused and there was a slight hitch of breath, before a slow exhale that came out as a faint fog in the cold. A hard swallow, the slight groan of a black strap over thin shoulders as a hand gripped tight at it, then adjusting the weight of the guitar case against a lean back. A slightly shaking hand rose to brush back messy silver hair away from the forehead and eyes. The feet took a few more steps forward, slow and careful, like a frightened creature just beginning to trust the hand offering them warmth and food.
A few more steps forward, quiet and careful against the ground.
Lips pursed together and another hand gently brought the red scarf down from the chin.
“Ryuu.”
Shoulders jerked. Ryuunosuke’s fingers gripped his phone so tight that the screen just needed a bit more pressure before it finally cracked. Not yet turning around, Ryuunosuke slid his phone back into his coat. Flexing his fingers to keep them from shaking, Ryuunosuke clenched his jaw and turned around.
In the end, Ryuunosuke didn’t need a picture to know this was Atsushi.
All he needed was his voice.
That was enough.
The corner of Atsushi’s violet-gold eyes crinkled as a nervous smile spread across his lips. He gripped the strap of his guitar case closer to his chest. He could feel his calves trembling from nerves and his heart was trying to leap into his mouth. The slight breeze gently mussed through his silver-white hair, slightly curled around his face and against his scarf.
He’s worth it. He’s worth it. Oh, he’s so worth it.
“Hi,” Atsushi breathed. “It’s nice to meet you, Ryuu.”
-
My love, he caught me crying
Freedom can die so hard
When you have a broken heart
Tears of joy
I pray to the open sky
This is the one I wanted
This is everything
For all that Ryuunosuke allowed parts of his life to be shared online, there were some things far too precious to be shared with strangers who’d already come to their own conclusions about who he was. They could guess, they could ruminate all they wanted: there were parts of him that he was never going to share.
How it felt to take off his gloves and feel Atsushi’s hands against his own. To feel the warmth in them, even as they shook with nerves and the other young man laughed, a little manic and high-pitched, showing that Ryuunosuke hadn’t been the only one wracked with nerves— those were Ryuunosuke’s memories alone.
Those, he would never share.
They would never know what it was like to see Atsushi’s smile, cheeks flushed from the cold, as they linked fingers while walking away from the park.
They would never know what it was like to be in his presence, to hear his voice so closely; not through a phone, but pure, raw and so so real. Being within the same air as him felt electric.
Ryuunosuke had never felt that way about anyone else before.
It was why he had to do this: to see Atsushi in person, to know if this gut feeling that he’d been keeping locked tightly away under a thick layer of denial and willful ignorance was real, could sustain itself beyond the fragile strings of online, virtual connection.
As they fell into easy conversation, organic, smooth and so natural in a little cafe that served ochazuke and fig tarts, Ryuunosuke knew that it could. They talked as if they’d known each other for years. It became easy to forget that they’d known each other for less than a year, knew each others true names for even less.
It felt so easy to be in his presence.
And that was why he had to do this.
“Who are your songs about?”
A flash of strange emotion passed over Atsushi’s face. Ryuunosuke watched, unblinking, as the college student by day, internet music sensation by night gripped the strap of his guitar case with a white-knuckled grip. His eyes flickered, looking at something over Ryuunosuke’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes completely. The tips of his ears had begun to turn pink.
Ryuunosuke was coming to learn that while his online presence was enigmatic, when out in the world, away from his equipment and a microphone, Atsushi displayed his emotions clearly on his sleeve.
Atsushi looked down, eyes lowered. His lashes were long, almost frosted silver as his hair.
“Why do you ask?” he murmured.
Ryuunosuke swallowed hard. He took his chance and rammed through the deflect like a bulldozer.
Take a little risk, Nii-san.
“I ask because I don’t think I can stand to only stay friends with you,” he said. “Not when what I’m starting to feel for you goes beyond that. Not when I have to listen to you possibly singing about being in love with someone else.”
Someone that’s not me .
I can’t take it.
It was the silence before a grand crescendo.
Ryuunosuke knew there was no going back from this. Atsushi was smart enough to understand what he wasn’t saying: he could read between the lines. He was a song writer, a poet: he was an artist. Of course he’d know. And he did: Ryuunosuke saw the realization dawn on Atsushi’s face, the sharp intake of breath. He felt it in his gut.
Then, Atsushi began to laugh.
He laughed, and then he began to cry.
When Ryuunosuke started to scramble to do something out of panic, attempting to apologize, Atsushi waved him off, gently slapping his hands away.
“I was so scared I was too obvious,” laughed Atsushi, wiping away tears with the heels of his palm. “My listeners seemed to know before I even did— I really was so damn obvious—“
Sniffling, Atsushi grinned at Ryuunosuke, another breathy laugh escaping him.
“You. They’re about you— all of them, all of those love songs— they’ve always been about you, Ryuu.”
There was much about his life that Ryuunosuke was never going to share online. Not all of his life was going to be documented for the public to see, he had always made sure of that ever since he made the choice to build something out of an online platform. Some things, he had to experience alone and keep close to his chest.
The world would never know what it was like to hold Nakajima Atsushi’s face in his hands, careful to cradle something so precious in his grasp, afraid that someone so precious would shatter the moment his unworthy hands touched him, and pull him in for a kiss that was met halfway as they stood underneath the cafe roof while the rain began to pour downward. Nobody would know the press of Atsushi’s body against his own as he brought the other man into his arms in an embrace, letting the musician rest his head on his shoulder while Atsushi’s hands swept up Ryuunosuke’s back to grasp onto his biceps, sagging into his weight. Nobody else could ever feel the smile Atsushi pressed into his shoulder or the brush of silver hair against Ryuunosuke’s chin.
The slip of their fingers into each other’s pockets was theirs to experience alone as Atsushi led him towards the Yokohama National University campus to show where his classes were, his favorite spots around the area, and the bookstore he used to work at. Ryuunosuke’s phone went untouched as they hopped onto the train together back to Atsushi’s apartment. The most he did was to text his sister hours later, careful to not disturb Atsushi as he laid his head on Ryuunosuke’s chest, napping from the long, emotionally wrought day. The arm wrapped around Atsushi’s shoulders tightened its hold as Ryuunosuke texted his sister not to worry, he was fine, and he was going to be spending the night elsewhere. He didn’t have to say who with. She knew already.
Later that night, if hands began to roam, heat was shared and breaths mingled under the dark, beneath those thin blankets and Atsushi made little noises that Ryuunosuke once could only fantasize about, and if Ryuunosuke came apart under such caring, loving hands when he’d never let anyone else touch him—
No one else had to know.
It was theirs, and theirs alone.
one year later
Back up, back up again.
We make a decision of you and me. We sing a song unsuitable here.
Hold me and kiss me once more.
To able to drive at full speed after stamping on accelerator pedal.
B Y A K K O ✈️ debut album @byakkochain
thank you all for the 3 million subscribers on my channel. i could not have gotten this far without your support. my new single, “Best Love,” is now out on Spotify, give it a listen here: https://tinyurl.com/y65jpro6 it’s a special one ( ˘ ɜ ˘) ♬♪♫
532 🔁115k ♡483k
dazai-san stay in blocked jail @hellhound
one year.
[image: the yokohama city skyline is seen in the foreground as the sun is starting to rise in the cool, late morning from the vantage of a balcony. the sky is a faint orange and pink, the ocean in the distance. all of the plants that would hang off of the railing have been brought inside but standing on the balcony is a young man, his face half-turned to look towards the skyline, leaving his eyes and front of his face averted from the viewer. he’s wearing a faint lavender shirt that’s a few sizes too big, but hangs comfortably off of his shoulders, and a pair of loose black pants. his feet are bare. a lock of silver hair brushes against his shoulder, and his hand is in mid-stroke against rashomon’s fur, the maine coone mix looking perfectly content as he hangs off of the young man’s arm. there’s a silver band that’s resting on the young man’s index finger. the filter of the picture is soft, almost pastel at the edges, but relatively unchanged. the young man in the picture looks content, and the little upturn of his cheek gives the impression that he’s smiling.
leaning against the sliding door of the balcony is a familiar white electric guitar with a black strap. on the body is a sticker of a white and black stripped tiger with violet eyes: the logo for Byakko Chain. ]
So be still when the silence passes through
And tremble when it pulls me far from you
I'm clinging to your breath that touched the wind
Naked in the dark with our eyes open
And we'll go to sleep again
And our hearts will collide