Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Nene wakes up, it’s to the sound of Rui’s soft snores, and the touch of Emu’s knee lightly prodding at her thigh. 

She has seemingly shifted enough times during her sleep that her head is no longer resting on any pillow at all. There's a cold, wooden floor pressed to the skin of her cheek.

It becomes all the more obvious she’s been resting in a bad position as she groggily lifts herself up, because she feels a dull ache settle on the back of her skull, faster than her eyes can adjust to weak rays of sunlight peeking through the window curtains.

This is why she was opposed to them not sleeping on beds, as much as she secretly found fun the idea of laying out futons in the living room. While it gave their sleepover a, well, real sleepover feeling, she's always had a habit of fidgeting a lot at night.

At least she should be thankful that she hasn't shoved her foot on anyone's face, probably. That would've been much worse. 

A light headache is perfectly doable, in comparison to that sort of embarrassment. It's nothing that a painkiller can't take care of. 

She's half tempted to wake Tsukasa up and ask where his family keeps the medicine, so amidst her dazed state, she throws a meek glance to her left — only to find the futon empty.

For good measure, she rubs at her eyes for a couple of seconds and makes sure to take a slow blink. The sight in front of her, composed of a desolate mattress and a blanket already carefully folded on top of it, doesn't shift at all. 

Huh. Tsukasa is gone.

Considering that they all stayed up talking until unhealthy morning hours, she can't help but find it odd. Emu and Rui are still sleeping, deeply undisturbed, and she's only awake due to her body resisting the awful posture she'd adopted. 

What is Tsukasa's excuse? It'd better be a good reason, she pouts, good enough to justify her worrying over his absence.

Before she has the chance to concern herself further with the situation, Nene tries straining her ears. It's nowhere as sharp, since she's been conscious for a grand total of eight minutes, but it reminds her of her concentration while playing survival games, focusing on the tiniest of movements.

There are many things to be noticed. She thinks that maybe she'll catch the distant creak of a door, or the quiet tapping of shoes against a staircase step, since those are the type of details she's used to taking account of. Whatever lets her understand Tsukasa's position within the household works, truthfully.

(She's so going to scold him if he ditched them to prepare breakfast all on his own).

Then again, life has a habit of turning out more interesting than her video games. What she actually gets to hear is nothing like that.

It's… piano.

Yes, those are definitely piano notes, reverberating in what is an otherwise slumbering house.

The melody has a very faint flow. It barely sounds like a melody altogether, but perhaps that's because it's coming from behind closed doors, and all that reaches Nene are a couple of loud notes not strung together. Of course, her distance from the instrument must be the reason she can't appreciate the music properly— if it's Tsukasa playing, the song itself sounds fine, surely.

She's determined to scold him, regardless. It's much too early to be endorsed in piano practice, never mind that she doesn't have a clue of the actual time it is. They're meant to take it easy when they don't have any upcoming plays, but this idiot is already overworking himself and their day hasn't even started yet, for crying out loud.

The light anger is enough to shake off whatever traces of drowsiness she had left. 

Carefully, Nene sets aside Emu's leg, which had been perched over hers, and crawls on all fours out of the futon blanket. She quickly abandons that position in favour of standing up, once she deems she's gotten far away from her companions and the motion won't interrupt their rest.

Finding Tsukasa is much easier than getting herself moving, thankfully. Even if she wasn't aware of the piano's location, she'd simply have to trail after the music. With each of her steps, the sound grows more defined; as tempting as it is to close her eyes and bask in the peaceful tune, she has a lecture to give, which propels her to keep advancing toward the boy.

Upon reaching the door separating the two of them, however, she hesitates. Now, she does allow her eyelids to flutter shut for a moment, and her hand ends up lingering timidly on the doorknob, head all but glued to its surface in an attempt to listen to the concert carried out on the other side.

To her awe, the chord progression really is as simple as the erratic notes she’d heard first. It’s a painfully plain arrangement of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, one that she’d expect from an elementary school kid, possibly, not a pianist as well-trained as their leader is. 

It could be that he’s too exhausted to play anything better than a boring lullaby, with what little sleep he must have gotten. Serves him right for not resting, Nene muses with a cheeky smile, fully prepared to use his lacklustre performance as an argument in her reprimand. 

She enters the room making as little noise as possible, not sure if she wants to call his attention right away or wait for him to finish playing. The boy remains unaware of the new presence, his vision and hearing centred on the keys in front of him, so Nene guesses she’ll play the part of an audience for the time being. It’s too rude to interrupt an artist in the middle of their number, even for her. 

And maybe — maybe, for a little longer, Nene just wants to savour the moment and stare at him when he’s like this. 

The only other occasions she has to take a close look at Tsukasa are when she’s watching him act from backstage. He’s always acting, then, and his body is more often than not turned towards the customers seated on the other side anyway. Observing the wrinkles of clothes on his back is not very interesting, nor enlightening, unfortunately. 

It’s much different from the expression present on his face right now, the real him. The sun casts bizarre shapes of lights and shadows onto his figure, and his hair is surrounded by a coral halo that highlights the darker tips of each strand. He looks straight out of an antique painting, similar to those perfect canvases hung up on museum halls, the ones that beg you to stop walking and take their sight in.

His technique is flawless, too, with the tempo of the song committed to memory, feather-light gestures succeeding one another as the melody marches onwards. The delicacy of his movements makes the smile tugging on his lips all the more entrancing.

He's putting so much care into it, appearing so satisfied with his job, even though the song is pathetically easy and nobody but him is meant to be listening to it. But that's the kind of person Tsukasa is— always putting effort into everything, whether others can appreciate the fact or not.

She's glad she is here to see it, though. Her chest wouldn't be growing warm with such mirth, otherwise.

As he finally presses the last note, Nene gives him a quiet round of applause, succeeding the silence once the music ceases.

It takes him a few seconds to lift his head, eyes going wide the moment he finally notices her.

“Nene? You were— ah, I'm sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, don't worry. I woke up on my own,” Nene lightly shakes her head. “But you weren't with us, so I went to look for you.”

“I see. Well, I'm sorry anyway,” Tsukasa laughs a little. “I didn't play very well, just now.”

“Catching three hours of sleep tops will do that to people,” she rolls her eyes resignedly. “I wasn't expecting any masterpiece from you.”

“It wasn't because of that,” the boy draws out a tired breath. “I, um, couldn't sleep at all, actually.”

Nene's eyebrows go down with worry. “Are you okay?”

“I am!” he grins, full of confidence. “It's been a while since it last happened, but I used to have a bit of trouble with falling asleep. So it's nothing… unusual.” 

His smile falters slightly at the last word. That does absolutely nothing to reassure Nene that he's fine.

“Is that why you were playing a lullaby?” she tries to inquire further. “To get yourself sleepy?”

“Mhm,” he nods, a hint of sadness flashing across his face. “As you can see, it didn't really work. I guess it would've gone better if someone else was playing it for me.”

“Or if you played it better,” Nene can't help herself from adding, grimacing when she takes note of how heartless the remark came out and racking her brain for a way to fix it. “I mean, I can’t say it was all that soothing, even with your skill. Are you sure you’re playing at your best…?”

Tsukasa goes quiet at that. It’s pretty much an admission of guilt, she’s certain, and she ends up walking over to his side and patting his back out of pity. 

The gesture seems to be the right course of action. Tsukasa’s shoulders slump forward in defeat, and he can only give another weak nod.

“I was playing it the way I would when I was little,” he confesses, fingers slowly caressing the white and black keys. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d sneak out of my room and come here just to practice this song. I wanted to get good at it. One could say I was obsessed with it, to be honest.”

He laughs again, except there’s nothing fun to it. 

It’s such a gloomy sound that Nene unwillingly ends up tightening her hold on him.

“It was rough when you were starting out, huh?” She makes an attempt at humour. “...Well, as long as you practised with closed doors back then, I’m sure it didn’t hurt anyone. Did this really manage to put you to sleep, though?”

His hand stops moving.

“It made the house not be silent,” he says, suddenly, as if just realising the fact. “That might be what soothed me, more than the song itself. …Stupid, right? People need silence to sleep.”

Nene’s eyes soften, gaining newfound respect for her friend. His situation might be different from hers, but this sensation is all too familiar.

“It’s not stupid at all, and that’s a lot, considering it’s coming from you,” the girl chuckles daintily. “Silence can be as overbearing as noise, Tsukasa. I would know— I don’t think anything in my life has been worse than the silence when I forgot my lines.”

“Did you feel lonely?” Tsukasa blurts out. “When it happened, did you…?”

She remembers everything from that moment vividly well, for better or worse.

The audience’s confused whispers, the bitter and regretful stares from all her castmates, the raw despair that swiftly washed over her entire being once the weight of the failure, her lone failure, dawned on her.

“I did,” she answers easily. “…That’s why I understand.”

It’s strange. In normal circumstances, Nene could hardly picture them having a conversation of such depth, with Tsukasa laying his pain out in the open and her being able to offer words of reassurance at the drop of a hat, yet it feels like an incredibly natural exchange. The lack of sleep might be turning both of them bolder, somehow. 

She finds herself sliding her arms around Tsukasa’s shoulders, forehead resting against the crook of his neck as she pulls him into a shy hug. The boy relaxes on her chest with surprising ease, and she watches with relief as his hands finally abandon the piano, all for the sake of returning her embrace. 

It’s warm. He’s warm, warmer than any heater or blanket she could ever get her hands on. 

It amazes her that someone who once was as numb as her is capable of lighting up her heart this much.

“You’re no longer that lonely kid, playing piano all by himself,” she says into his skin. “You have us to fill that silence if it gets too much. Try to rely on us a little, won’t you?”

One way or another, she ended up scolding him in the end, huh. She has to hold back a smile.

“I couldn’t have possibly bothered you over this. You were sleeping,” Tsukasa shuffles uncomfortably.

“I plan on going back to sleep,” Nene states matter-of-factly. “But… I’ll sing the lullaby for you first, so that all of us can rest. …If you’d, um, like that.”

“Your voice is so pretty,” Tsukasa mumbles, his grip around her strengthening. “Who wouldn’t like having you singing for them? We’re truly lucky to have you in our group!”

Nene feels her breath hitch. She’s still very, very weak to such direct praise, and Tsukasa constantly gives out compliments with enough earnestness to make her cheeks immediately redden, as much as she attempts to pretend otherwise. Not even insomnia can make him less enthusiastic about showering her in praises, apparently.

Of course he couldn’t have answered with a simple yes or no.

“Thank you,” she forces out a reply in a tone as level-headed as possible. “I consider myself lucky to be a member, as well. I’m… very happy. You— you all make me happy. That’s why I want to sing for you.”

“Thank you,” Tsukasa echoes her words, and she can feel the pleased grin in his voice. “You’re being strangely nice to me, haha! But I’d love to listen, if you’re that eager.”

“It may help you, so it’s worth a try.”

It’s the least she can do for the boy who helped her sing on a stage again.

Although there’s much more she wishes she could give him to pay him back for his support, her voice will have to do for the moment, she supposes. 

Nene clears her throat a few times, hoping that by some miracle she’ll hit the notes decently even without vocal warmup. She parts her lips open, prepared to begin, but just as she is about to start the first note, the sound of a piano key throws her entirely off-balance. 

How Tsukasa managed to reach the instrument without her noticing that his embrace had lessened considerably, she’d never know. The girl gives him a confused glance, not quite understanding why he interrupted her.

“Hey, you said it. ‘You’re no longer that lonely kid’,” Tsukasa replies, as if that somehow answers her unspoken question. “Nene, you’re not lonely anymore, either, so I thought it only made sense if we did the song together this time.”

“...You’re such a sap,” Nene lets out a fond sigh, but nods all the same. 

He’s right. As long as they get to be together, neither will feel lonely anymore, right? Wonderlands x Showtime will have to end one day, and that thought alone hurts, but maybe she doesn’t have to lose everything that comes with it.

Maybe they can continue their dream together. Maybe they both can get to Broadway. Tsukasa sometimes makes her feel like the impossible is possible, because he’s someone with enough power to seize his goals, to pick up his own pieces and put them back together whenever he falters.

…It’d be nice if she could follow along, too.

“Is that a yes or a no?” he insists.

“Fine, fine,” Nene relents soon enough. “Let’s start over, on the count of three.”

“Leave the counting to me, then!” Tsukasa closes his eyes, readying himself. “One… Two… Three.”

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star …”