He leaned against the vending machine, gulping down water as he looked at the surrounding area. He could notice a few glances and stares from passing people, a mild reminder of his identity as BAD DOG. Despite the cold weather and fallen snow yet to melt away, beads of sweat dripped down his face, a leftover bit of his practicing. His throat was sore, soothed by the frigid water, yet still stung after finishing the bottle.
Wiping himself off with his sleeve, he carelessly tossed it into a nearby trash can, listening to it clang against the metal before shoving his hands into his pockets. He stood there, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at some store across the street, in a small debate on what to do.
A run.
A quick run would work.
For a moment, his mind was flooded with memories of his younger self and his former exercises that were all for one goal. A goal he had since given up on. He frowned, sighing as he turned around.
A run would work.
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Toya looked down at the silver microphone in his hand, the bitter wind brushing against him gently as he looked up at the surrounding crowd. He could see their visible confusion, a combination of the fact he was a complete stranger to the street, and how it was the dead of winter. Nervously, he opened his mouth, giving a short introduction that he didn't properly register, the words coming out as if they were natural to him, spoken often enough that he didn't have to think.
They weren't. Of course they weren't, he had hardly been in the public eye for anything other than his writing. Subconsciously, he imitated what he said, with only minor changes.
"Tokio Funka," he called out softly, raising the microphone closer to his lips, a burst of determination swelling up in him.
Amidst the song, he looked out at the crowd, his eyes darting around, attempting to assess how good he was doing, the quality of his performance. He didn't want to fail the audience, or him, for that matter.
Regardless of whether or not he was watching— which, seeing no dots of orange amidst the gathering, he assumed he wasn't— this was still for him. At least, that was the original point of his month of practice, to help pull him out of that hole. But, as the memorized lyrics left his lips, he could feel the act of love turn into an act of pure, unfiltered passion. He focused his attention back onto the words, only looking away from sections of the crowd when he deemed necessary.
"Yozakura ga mau onna-domo wa mesaku, odore ya Everybody," he sung, eyes grazing unimportant people, before his eyes caught sight of a blotch of vivid color in the back.
Orange.
Having seen that specific hue of color so many times before, both in person and in mind, from years ago and from only a few days ago, his eyes widened in shock. He couldn't see any other details, and assuming that Akito couldn't recognize him when covered by so many others, his voice raised, practically yelling the words.
He could only picture how Akito would feel, seeing him hold a street performance, and he wondered if he'd be disappointed or surprised, yet he couldn't tell when all he could see was his hair. Even more, he questioned if he could recognize Toya off of his voice alone.
With him watching, it was as if the waters were only raising; and with them, he would swim, alternative to the drowning he had decided on years prior.
Those thoughts died shortly after as he roughly transitioned to another song, his voice cracking as he switched to something he recalled Akito himself covering at the first live event he had attended; Doctor=Funk Beat.
His voice echoed throughout the street, the familiarity of the tone and quirks burning into Akito's head as he attempted to decipher who exactly it belonged to. He held in a groan of frustration at not being able to tell, instead standing there for only a moment longer, just to listen to whoever it was.
Their voice was gorgeous, he decided.
Neglecting his frail health, the intensity behind his voice only grew, more people gathering around him to watch. The way that something lit up in their eyes only excited the split-dyed more, unaware of any cracks or quivers in his voice that occurred during the song.
Over the heads of his audience, he watched as the ginger ran off, a small thought regarding his speed crossing his mind as he continued. Brief disappointment stabbed itself at his chest, yet only got converted into more energy, his head otherwise empty.
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Swiftly turning back on his heel, Akito sprinted back to where he had started, kicking both slush and snow to the concrete pavement. His breath was erratic, chest heaving as thoughts of both Toya and the singer he had accidentally encountered ran through his mind, the pairing only scratching at his heart. The idea that the person could be Toya, the person he once edited for, could have such a beautiful voice only made sense to him, yet the energy and talent behind him didn't seem fit.
He could've been too stuck in his view of him from his teen years, but to be able to have that much passion, power without collapsing was almost shocking to him. The talent didn't make sense either, he wasn't aware of any practicing Toya had done before. Yet, the details, the outline of his voice seemed to match almost perfectly with the street performer's.
He ran his hand through his hair, briefly pondering over why his mind put the idea of Toya singing over his own, why he treasured anything he, or anyone, did over his own actions. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts of him.
As he continued sprinting, he could feel his heart sink, something in his mind beckoning to go back to that area, to listen to himself. Already going in that direction, his brows furrowed, glancing to the left where the person had been located previously.
Toya.
Toya, panting and staring at the ground, in the middle of a dark, wet alleyway. From afar, Akito could see sweat glistening on his forehead, a sight that faintly resembled an incident.
Blindly, he rushed towards him, any reserves he would've typically had, or at least had a few weeks to months prior, dispersing into the air. He watched as Toya slid down the wall, the mere fact that he hadn't passed out bringing a sense of relief to the ginger.
"Toya?" He called softly, crouching down to get a better look at him. It looked as if his eyes were glazed over, unfocused and still.
Toya weakly lifted his head to look at him, a faint smile rested on his lips. He didn't respond, only leaning towards him as he closed his eyes, his breath quick and unstable.
Fuck.
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WORD COUNT: 1173
:3
shorter than i expected
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VIVIDWords | AkiToya (Project Sekai)
Fanfiction|| "Hey, Ena, do you think they'd still be there?" "Probably not. It's been years." || Akito and Ena return to their homes, yet life decides to separate them from their old partners. || SEQUEL TO EDITOR || || This isn't Ena focused, despite her bei...
