#THE ALLUSION TO HIS CANON DEATH AT THE RND I HATE YOU ANON | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dailyreko · 1 month

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"Can you tell me about her?"

He rubs his hands together, fingers flexing and unflexing. Curling into a fist, scratching at his sweaty palms, spreading them out on his thighs and moving them forward to his knees. He looks up at the counselor, and offers an awkward smile.

"Well...what is there to say?"

She sighs, shifting in her seat. Her pen is in her hand, poised above the clipboard that's resting on her crossed legs. He doesn't really understand her question, as he feels there's not much else to say. She could get her information off tabloids and whatever the news has said lately. It's not like he knew her any better.

"Tell me about your relationship with her. You two fought often, right? Petty arguments, or was there always something bigger?"

He takes in a deep breath. Blows it out through his mouth. A hand rakes over his hair, brushing his bangs to the side. He looks at the counselor again, lips twitching up to smile but his eyes quickly shift down to the table. The fluorescent light buzzes softly, and the way it shines down on the white table almost blinds him. It dazzles him, and reminds him too much of the lights that would line their stage.

"It's...It's not like we hated each other. Arguing with your sibling, that's perfectly normal. We just...had a hard time agreeing on some things. We've both got a bit of a temper, I'm sure you know."

She writes something down on her clipboard, eyes darting up to give him a brief glance. She's got this look on her face, eyes half covered by her eyelids, mouth pulled into a thin line. He knows that look. Seen it too many times to not know it.

"There was once where we couldn't agree on the rhythm for one of our songs. You see, we collaborate on a lot of the music but she..."

He curls his right hand into a fist, gripping the fabric of his prison uniform. His heart clenches, and he thinks of that time in the studio.

"Those time signature changes start measure 14 and end at 38, then picks up again at 75 to 130."

"From 24/8 to 13/16 right? Are you sure?"

Her eyes glance up from the array of music sheets before her. They were staying up late, Sunday evening, going over the new songs they were going to play in studio tomorrow.

"I know what you're thinking, but just wait till you hear it! Trust the process," she says, laughing at herself.

"Oh believe me, I trust the process," he replies, grabbing the spare cups of water that had collected over their table as they worked. "Only you could come up with something like this and make it sound good."

"Well it's all going to depend on you, for the most part," she replied nonchalantly. He could hear the sounds of shuffling papers behind him as he washed their dishes.

"Ah, right. About that..."

He turns off the water, turning to face her. She looks up to him curiously, dark brown eyes shining thanks to their kitchen light. She didn't brush her hair today, because they spent the whole day inside pouring over the music for tomorrow. It stayed true to her nature, wild and unkempt, yet he knew it was soft to the touch.

"What is it?"

"Er, right...Yes, so..." He shifted his weight, bringing a hand up to brush aside his bangs. "I'm...unsure about those fills you want me to do in the intro and the during the breaks. With the time signature change during those measures...I'm not quite sure I can do it."

"Huh?" She replies, voice heavy with exhaustion. They've both been at this for hours, and he knows she's been giving it her all the whole time. He admits that what she has hear will be an amazing song, one to please the audience and anyone who hears it. But he wonders if she realizes that she's put in more faith in him than he has for himself.

"What are you talking about? Of course you can do it, this is just Heart Stab remixed, you got through that just fine!"

It is similar to that song, in fact this new one was sparked from a section of that song. Though she neglects to bring up the fact he had to practice for hours on end to get the sound right when they recorded that one.

"Ah, that is right," he replies, bringing his hands together. "Perhaps I'm underestimating myself, then."

She gets up from her seat, the folder with all their music secured in her hand.

"You always do, but I know you take this just as seriously as I do. So don't sweat it, kay? Now let's get some sleep, it's gonna be an even longer day tomorrow."

She reaches toward him for a hug, and he meets her halfway. As he holds her in his arms, he can't help but feel the guilt weighing in his heart. She's right about one thing. He does take this seriously, and he wants so desperately to meet her expectations. But he really is just not there. He doesn't have the natural talent she has. He can't just get things in the first few tries like she does. She has faith in him, but he knows that tomorrow is going to be hellish if he doesn't deliver.

They bid each other good night, then go off to their respective rooms. He lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, mentally preparing himself for tomorrow. She's going to be upset if he isn't able to keep up. And he'll get upset at himself for dragging her down.

But he's wrong. Because the fact is they both get angry for two very different reasons. He just doesn't know this. Neither does she. They both don't realize their own shortcomings. Maybe that's why it was always failed from the start.

"She's a prodigy. Always has been. Her passion for music goes far beyond what anyone else thinks. I've never seen someone with such greater talent and love for something than her. It's natural that she wants everyone to meet her at the level she's at. But I'm just not there. I don't think she realizes. I don't want to hold her back, I just want to be there to support her. That's all I've ever wanted."

He brings a hand up to his bangs, brushing them out of his face, but everything he sees is blurry for some reason. He feels something cool trail down his face. The counselor is busy staring at her clipboard, and for a moment, he's glad to have no one pay any attention to him. He's alone on stage. There's a gaping hole in his chest, one that he only has himself to blame.

"But now, I don't think we'll ever be brother and sister again."

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yeah idk lol

DAY 265:

#YTTD #REKO YABUSAME #ALICE YABUSAME #THANKS FOR RIPPING MY HEART OUT AND STOMPING ON IT #AAAAAGGHHHHHH #THE ALLUSION TO HIS CANON DEATH AT THE RND I HATE YOU ANON #im kidding i love you anon thank you so much for sharing #i love you

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