A(ndrei)sexual & Other Tales - Chapter Six: in which music shatters Nana's soul

Warning: 18+ readers only; this blog is dark and full of terrors!

(A little bad language.)

Early Spring

NANA

      It was a surprise when Tamaki texted me three weeks after the awkward encounter with his brother at the bar. Honestly, I had assumed I'd pretty much blown it - and I wasn't exactly wrong. Tamaki explained in his text that Maki had promised to contact me but hadn't. I knew it would be because of the regretful Sadako comment, but it seemed like Maki hadn't told the others about that. He looked fine with me at the time, but I had a feeling he'd been musing about it since then.

      A few days later, I was walking into one of the many student accommodations surrounding Camden and following Tamaki to his and Maki's dorm. I panicked at the thought of having to face the latter, but it turned out that I needn't had worried; Maki didn't even show his face, leaving Tamaki and me to jam together for the evening. It was fun, though. I liked Tamaki; he was chilled out with a good sense of humour. I could see us getting on brilliantly as bandmates.

      "Sorry about my brother," he said, as he walked me out. "He's just a bit... shy."

      I nodded slowly, knowing the real reason why he hadn't come through to see us.

      "Honestly, he's not good with change," Tamaki continued to reassure me. "He was really close with Sen, but he'll come around. Maybe next time you come to jam, I can drag him in too."

      "Sure..." I agreed, not very sure at all. 

      I knew it would be a while before Maki would be comfortable with me. I had sensed when I first saw him, the way he'd cower when I came near and hid under his hair, and then even more so when he spoke to me, how uneasy he was. I didn't understand what it was about me that was so intimidating.

      The weekend after, I was invited over for a second session. Once again, Maki refused to come out of his bedroom. And still, I felt disheartened.

      I couldn't figure out why it was upsetting me so much that this boy seemed repelled by me. I didn't know Maki at all, but I really wanted to see his face again.

       After a couple of hours of uncomplicated songwriting, Tamaki suggested going for a quick beer run, and I volunteered to stay and work on the harmonies. He was gone for maybe five minutes before I heard a guitar quietly playing in the next room.

       I leant my head against the wall to get a better listen, closing my eyes. The sounds were so delicate and precise like they meant something special. And just as I was losing myself to the dreamlike melody, it was accompanied by the most exquisite voice. It was beautiful, each note more perfect than the last and I could feel my heart fluttering with emotion; I knew the song well, even though I couldn't hear the words clearly through the wall, and found myself singing along quietly. All I could think was that I wanted to surround myself with this sound forever, bathe myself in it, lose myself to the fervour of that voice. I couldn't tell if it was the beer or the music that made a tear come to my eye, but after a few minutes, I heard the front door slam shut, and the melody stopped abruptly.

       It then dawned on me that Maki had not intended for me to hear him. He apparently thought I'd left when Tamaki had.

       It had been a private moment, just for him.

       And I'd unknowingly been part of it.

       This happened two weeks ago.

       Tamaki has invited me to go to his family home for proper practice and maybe record something, to see how I fit in with everyone.

       At first, I think this seems so formal for a glorified garage band, but when I search The Amber Roses online, I see they have quite the following. Pretty surprising, for an unsigned group. There are plenty live recordings in various pubs and clubs, and the last two local Battle of the Bands competitions (both of which they won). I resist the urge to binge-watch, preferring to be surprised when I hear them perform together. But I slyly become their 15,004th Instagram follower.

       The day comes when Tamaki texts me the address. I can't help a surge of nausea when I see the house is in Kensington. Anywhere posher than Camden - which isn't posh at all - makes me nervous and very conscious as I dress, opting to leave out my clip-in locks and throw on the newest skinnies I own, the only ones not faded or ripped or made of leather. And after raiding Dora's wardrobe, I steal a random band tee - which is much closer fit on me than its intended owner - and a cardigan and head out.

       It takes me nearly half an hour to find Tamaki's house among all the other big houses on the street. I feel enormously out of place until an older man answers the door. He's much taller than me, covered in tattoos, with long braids piled up in a bun on his head.

       "Um, hi..."

       "Oh, you must be Nana, right?" the guy chirps, sticking his hand out towards me. "I'm Tamaki and Maki's dad!"

       I must be gawking pretty hard because he laughs and leads me inside. After insisting I call him Pete rather than Mr Taylor, he goes to fetch Tamaki.

       I look around at the impeccably decorated hallway; all dark wood floors and cream and gold wallpaper. It seems like any other posh house on first look, but on the walls are mounted records of various bands. The staircase leading up in front of me is vast and splits into two, going in opposite directions at the top of the landing, and mounted on the wall in the middle is a beautiful candy apple red Fender Stratocaster.  Jesus...

       Before I can look at my surroundings further, Maki appears at the top of the stairs.

       "Oh," he says, looking surprised. "I didn't know you arrived already."

       "Your, um, dad just went to get Tamaki..." I shuffle on the spot, nervously fingering the strap on my guitar bag, feeling ashamed of the shitty Yamaha Pacifica inside.

       "Oh." 

       For what feels like twelve billion years, Maki and I look at each other awkwardly. I notice how he too has opted for a more casual look than usual. But he looks effortlessly stylish in his faded Levis and black vest, a grey checked shirt tied at his waist. I find myself checking out with subtly muscled arms.

       "I didn't realise that wasn't your real hair," he says suddenly, as he starts making his way down the steps, breaking me from my stupor.

       I look at him, dumbstruck as he saunters past me, and Tamaki suddenly appears by my side.

       "Hello!" he chirps, his smile fading as Maki stomps past him towards the room which he's just left. "...What's his problem?"

       I shrug, shaking my head, direly wishing I'd put my hair in today.

MAKI

       Fuck.

       Why did he have to turn up looking like that?

       He can't put on a t-shirt that fitted (a Smiths one, at that) and jeans that tight and expect it not to have an effect on some people.

       By "some people", I mean me.

       To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.

       As I walk into the studio, I practically run towards Amber, throwing my arm around him.

       "Today is going to suck."

       He pushes me away from him. "You need to get over it."

       "You need to get back under it!" I say pouting.  

       He looks at me in confusion. "You know that made no sense, right?"  

       Amber plasters a smile on his face as Nana and Tamaki saunter in, stepping forward and politely introducing himself. I pretend to tune my guitar while subtly eavesdropping; Tamaki telling Amber about the song they've written, showing him pieces of paper, talking about how great Nana is and blah blah blah...

       I've been trying to summon lyrics from the depths of my brain, but I've been grappling between emotional baggage and mistrust for strangers, and I don't want to encourage Nana's presence in the band. We don't need him.

       I don't need him making me feel awkward.

 "Maki, how did you get on with the lyrics?"

       I look up from my Fender Starcaster. "I managed."

       Tamaki rolls his eyes at me, his focus immediately switching back to Nana.

       Today is going to suck.

       After half an hour of Amber and Tamaki discussing beats and tempo, me trying to come up with lyrics I was supposed to have already written all while stealing subtle glances at Nana, we settle down to piece everything together.

       I have not prepared myself for what happens.

       Nana starts to play; a quiet, slow, simple melody, with Tamaki adding the odd bass note. I listen for about fifteen seconds, and suddenly the words come out of me like spilling water. I close my eyes and let them flow with the sound, making my voice take the song wherever it wants. I barely even notice Amber coming in with the slow but building beat. I feel a surge of energy when we hit the breakdown, and the air forces out of me as my throat takes my voice higher than I thought it would.

       It's been so long since I've been able to sing like that.

       When I run out of breath, and the song comes to a peaceful end, we all sit for a minute, feeling elevated.

       "Fucking hell, Maki," Amber says with his usual American eloquence.

       "Sorry."

       I feel Tamaki's hand on my shoulder. "Just when we thought you were starting to lose it."

       Nana's shocked gaze makes my face burn red.

       Amber looks happier than he has for months. "Well, that went well," he says. "But if you keep singing like that, you're gonna pass out after like two songs."

       "That's okay," Nana says with the slightest smirk on his lips. "I'll just fill in for him."

       I feel my eyes narrow at him. "I don't think so. I can't imagine your accent translates well into something as elegant as singing."

       Did I actually just say that?

       He shakes his head, the smirk widening, my heart beating just a little faster.

       "Maki," Tamaki says with a stern look. "I know about that picture of Kit Harington as Jon Snow under your pillow, and I can guarantee it's not there because you hate his accent."

       Oh, my GOD.

       Amber's poorly timed sip of beer is spat over his drums as he laughs, and I want the world to swallow me.

       "You've gone red!" He practically screams. 

       I'm not sure what part of this I'm more embarrassed by; the Kit Harington comment, the fact it's entirely accurate, or that Nana had to be made aware of it.

       And with that, a beautiful moment has been ruined.

NANA

       By the time it gets dark, and it's time for me to leave, I'm still utterly blown away by what we created within an hour of me being there.

       But mostly because Maki's voice broke all my expectations into shards. Panda was right when he said he was full of surprises. What I heard through the wall at the dorm was dwarfed by the powerhouse of that little Sadako. As soon as he'd started singing, I felt like my soul was being torn out and laid in front of him. It was hard to keep my focus on playing when all I wanted to do was watch him create that sound.

       I just wish he didn't hate me.

       As soon as I get home, I copy the recordings onto my laptop and put them on my phone, so I can listen more. I play it on repeat until I fall asleep, an earbud pressed firmly between my head and my pillow.