The sound of the electronic drums downstairs stopped. I could tell that he’d been playing more roughly than usual, and I was sure it was because of me and what I’d put him through.
He was clumsy, but gentle, and he had a way with words.
When Odajima was having problems and came up to the roof, he’d helped her bounce back in under a week.
He had a mysterious ability to verbalize the emotions smoldering deep inside people’s hearts, releasing them.
That was why I tried my best to hide my emotions from him…but he ended up exposing them anyway. And yet, I was still trying to hide them, and that unsettled him.
I felt bad about it…but there was nothing I could do.
I slowly took off my shirt and gently unwrapped the bandage on my left arm. My skin was covered in ugly scars. Why was I doing this? I’d thought it was to confirm that I was alive. But what was I thinking the day I cut for the first time? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember.
✦ ✦ ✦
“I want to hear your sound again, Nagoshi! You’re the only one who can make music like that!”
✦ ✦ ✦
I thought of Andou’s face as he pleaded with me. He was almost in tears.
I should’ve been happy to hear someone say that, but I knew in my heart that I wasn’t. Music didn’t save people. Even if you thought it had saved you, it would only betray you and leave you in despair.
I had betrayed Andou. I hurt and rejected him to protect my own heart, despite knowing his earnest feelings. And yet, he was still attached to my music.
I could have understood it if he had romantic feelings for me. If he were trying to win me over through the bass, everything would be a lot simpler. But it was clear that wasn’t the case anymore. The only thing he talked about was my music.
His desire was straightforward and genuine. He just wanted to hear my sound.
His feelings reminded me of how I used to feel about him, which pained me deeply.
I wasn’t confident enough to believe I wouldn’t betray Andou in the same way. But as he continued to bombard me with his feelings, anxiety bubbled up inside me. What if I started wanting to play again?
Clank!
It sounded like Asada was closing up the garage. I looked outside and saw that it was already dark. I slipped my fingers through the gap in the thin curtains, pulled them aside, and peeked out.
He was walking along the path through the rice fields more slowly than usual. Suddenly, he stopped and turned back toward my house. Flustered, I quickly pulled my hand away and closed the curtains. As I stared at the fabric swaying back and forth, I sighed.
I felt pathetic. Why was I so afraid of someone younger than I was? I peeked outside again and saw his figure shrinking into the distance.
“Just have fun with your friends,” I muttered. “And keep enjoying yourselves…right up until the end.”
I could feel all sorts of words swirling around in my head, but I couldn’t grasp any of them. It was so frustrating.
“Otherwise, I’ll…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, because I didn’t know what I wanted to say.
I sat on the sofa by the window, my arms wrapped around my knees. I stayed curled up like that for a long time. I felt like crying, but for some reason, no tears came out. I realized that, without the bass, I couldn’t express anything.