Work Text:
book a studio. pay the fee. wake up early in the morning and shamble into the car with three guitars -- electric, acoustic, and bass.
this was the process for the two would-be artists. where their personalities and agreements ended, the extent of their relationship had been in tolerance for the art they made together. that, and given their living arrangements, they were practically joined at the hip for the time being.
stella was used to having breakfast bars prepared for the girls in back. in the car, sena scarfs them down, just as yozora slid on earbuds, contemplating their next cover. just because they'd finally started going to a proper studio after years of working with home remixes, didn't mean she felt as thought there was going to be a break in their careers. in fact, as she focused on the riffs that started to blast in her ears, yozora was seriously considering why they were finally returning to official processes after neglecting them for so long.
[playing: fool's gold - ofk.]
once they arrived, they settled into the room quickly, despite the early morning lazy-haze setting in. bassline on her mind, yozora sits down with one of the instruments, quietly picking at the strings to get that repetitive itch out of her head. sena continues to shift their equipment around -- and her decision to argue over sharing their responsibilites goes out the window once she sees that distant look in yozora's eyes.
"… and the recording equipment goes there…"
…
9:00am; mic checks, instrument tuning, and warm ups.
10:00am; they address the message from their mixer, yukimura, about the drum beats being sent in. created from some tentative ideas based off the titles of a tracklist they'd sent her, sena is quicker on the ball to elaborate on them through some immediate brainstorming. it comes to yozora's displeasure; she offers to shelve the proposed melody until they can figure a stronger chord progression.
11:00am; the duo play improvisation with the tools they have on hand -- this is in spite of the song they had expected to develop upon, and the melody quickly takes a rock turn based on their instruments, despite the jazz-oriented process.
12:00am; music is hard work. sena suggests that they take a break before continuing, so they do so.
[playing: comfortable - lauv.]
sena writes to their producer (rika) over a laptop. yozora's mind is still set on work, a habit she had never been able to shake off. that was okay, because the itch she'd had since the day started hadn't gone away, either. she takes the electric guitar off its stand, and continues to strike at the strings.
it's easy to tell when music takes hold of the spirit. difficult to tell from songs alone, given they catered differently from individual to individual. complexity in the ingredients would also to be considered. but sena didn't need to turn around to know that yozora was trying her best to concentrate on something, between the almost inaudible taps of her feet on the carpeted floor, and the quiet singing of lyrics familiar.
just as she set down the laptop, the bridge kicked in, made the song identifiable. so sena paces over, hits record while yozora wasn't paying attention (she never minded, but was frequently surprised), and waits patiently for the chorus. a few steps over to her partner, and she looms over the musician, sly.
her voice melds into the song, and yozora doesn't react to it.
"and i can't help myself--"
(arms wrap around yozora, as she stiffens and pulls her back straight. palms meet the sides of her jaw, and fingers slide themselves under her chin.)
"all i wanna hear you say is…"
sena raises her face, and yozora looks back into an infinity, dropped from her head lost in stars and noise into a lake that spanned forever, and reality kicks back in with a wash of heat.
"…are you mine?"
(she remembered getting dressed, earlier today. black tracksuits were her thing, for yozora, and sena had commented how she'd looked like one of the most popular anime characters at the moment, tainted with only angst, given her monochrome look.
'hitoribocchi.'
before this, she had been lost in music making on her own, going nowhere but circles practicing in her bedroom before sena pulled her out of her shell. a day of carrying her guitar case to school, in replacement of her bag, and then abruptly being pulled aside from the hallway when the sun went down, caught by complete coincidence --)
yozora blinks, and closes her eyes as the shadow falls upon her. lips upon her lips. for a moment, the song dies in her head, and she is freed from the nagging of a muse that didn't belong.
a compulsion still lingered, however, when sena leaves her. yozora doesn't let the kiss end with a tug -- she ends it afterwards, on her own terms, with a sigh and an expulsion of the truth in shifted lips, devoid of voice;
of course i'm fucking yours.
[playing: arctic monkeys - r u mine?]