Work Text:
‘Come on aniki, we haven’t been out together for ages!’ Izuna whined into the receiver pathetically. Madara could practically see him through it, bulging his eyes in that impression of a wounded puppy he liked to use whenever he wanted to talk anyone to anything.
Madara rubbed at his temple, grateful that he wasn’t subjected to those in person. They were damn too effective on him. ‘You only wanted me to go out with you whenever you needed anyone who would buy you beer anyway. You can buy it by yourself now, since you’re legally an adult, so what point am I missing?’ He really wasn’t in the mood of going out on such a short notice. Although, Izuna did mention some time back that Hikaku would be in the city soon with his band.
‘Aww, that’s not true! I always liked to spend time with you. You’re so busy lately…’ Izuna grumbled petulantly.
It was true that as of late, Madara had much less time and mainly energy for bar hopping but that was to be expected since he, unlike Izuna, who was in his second year of college, had to actually go to work, helping their father and Tajiro running the family company, even though it wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed. It was photography which called out to him but out of duty, Madara dropped his dreams of pursuing the artistic career in favour of working with numbers instead, sentencing himself into a dreadfully boring life. ‘I’m tired, Izuna.’ He tried to suppress the yawn.
‘It’s Friday, you can sleep in tomorrow. Hikaku’s band is not going to be in the city for long. They need to move on to the next concert location by Monday or something like that. He wasn’t too specific on the technicalities.’ Izuna kept nagging, perfectly aware that Madara would most likely cave in anyway just to please him.
‘So our cousin is famous now, huh?’ He scratched his scalp and slid a little deeper into his office chair. He never actually heard anything from the band Hikaku was in, nor did he make any effort to find more information about it. As far as his knowledge went, which was, by the way, entirely forced on him through Izuna’s sporadic mentions of Hikaku’s whereabouts, it was some punk rock formation, not dissimilar to a bunch of other punk rock bands out there.
Izuna laughed airily into the phone. ‘Not that famous yet but from what he said, they have a decent fan base already and a band manager who is very determined to make a lot of money off of them. They are actually hoping to catch the attention of some recording company on this little tour of theirs.’
Madara snorted. A good manager was what made a whole world of difference when anyone wanted to accomplish anything significant. Sadly, talent wasn’t everything. Contacts were what mattered a lot. ‘You don’t even have to pay for the tickets, Hikaku put us on the guest list. It would be rude not to show up as his guests, don’t you think?’ Izuna, sensing that his reluctance was already worn down enough, implored some more, undeterred by his grumpy grumbling.
‘Alright, fine. I’ll go with you, annoying brat. But you’re buying me a beer.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to unwind a little. Lately, he was so absorbed with the heaps of workload, he almost forgot how to have fun. Though it was better to keep himself occupied. Too much time to think about his lack of personal life would probably do him no good.
‘Hey, that’s a little demanding, don’t you think?’ Izuna squawked.
‘Izuna, you owe me so many beers over the years that paying this one evening will hardly make up for it.’ Madara rolled his eyes even though his brother couldn’t see it.
There was a bit of unintelligible grumbling on the other side before Izuna heaved a sigh. ‘That’s probably fair. See you at seven then?’ He was back to his infectious enthusiasm.
‘Yeah, see you at seven. Text me the address of the club.’ Madara capitulated. Izuna was right, they weren’t out together for ages. He should be grateful his brother still wanted to spend time with him instead of his college friends since he had turned into a boring office worker, another stressed and depressed link in the chain of capitalism.
‘Great! I’m so excited!’ Izuna whooped entirely too loudly, making Madara wince slightly and put the phone a little further away from his ear.
‘Yeah, yeah. Later, Izu.’ He ended the call with a snort. He still had some work to finish before he would tell Tajiro he was leaving early to have time to drive home, have a shower, change into something more suitable for a punk rock concert than a suit and get there on time.
-------------------
It took him a bit more time to get home since he got unexpectedly stuck in traffic due to some accident that blocked the highway. That he, after a quick shower, had a hard time finding anything suitable to wear which wouldn’t make him look like an old fart among the other visitors of the concert, was kind of embarrassing. His pair of old black, slightly worn jeans, which he found at the bottom of the wardrobe, coupled with a red plaid shirt that decidedly seen better days, was his salvation. Once he remembered that he actually had some sneakers from back in the day when he wasn’t an uptight accountant but rather a local menace on a skateboard, which he dug out of the closet with a little victorious dance, his outfit was complete. He looked slightly like a vagrant, which was just the right image for a punk rock concert.
He knew he was running late when he called himself a taxi, momentarily ignoring the barrage of Izuna’s messages demanding to know where the hell he was and various threats on what he was going to do to him should he bail out at the last minute. Though Izuna seemed to have calmed down once he texted that he was on his way.
‘You’re late!’ Izuna pounced at him immediately as he got out of the vehicle. He was dressed similarly casually but it somehow suited him better than Madara. Or perhaps he just wasn’t used to wearing anything informal anymore. Once he took a look around, he was sure that they would both blend right in.
‘Yeah, got stuck in a traffic jam.’ Madara said en lieu of apology and was assaulted with a fierce hug.
‘Nevermind! It hasn’t started yet, though the opening band is about to get up there soon. We should probably head in.’ Izuna, keeping one arm around his shoulders, guided Madara towards the entrance, where a wide array of people lounged, some of them smoking and chatting excitedly about the upcoming performances.
‘So, you have the tickets?’ Madara inquired as they lined up for the entrance.
Izuna shrugged noncommittally. ‘Nope. Hikaku told me to just say our names and they should let us in.’
That was slightly worrying as he certainly wouldn’t want to deal with any misunderstandings but Madara kept that observation for himself. Instead, he pulled out his ID in case he would have to show some sort of identification. Izuna kept chattering away and the queue was moving at a reasonable pace, therefore they were facing the security at the entrance half an hour later.
‘Tickets.’ One of the bulky men barked unpleasantly.
‘We should be up on the guest list.’ Izuna chirped politely.
The security man gave them a pointed once over before he nodded at his colleague to come over. ‘Names?’ The other man snarled.
‘Uchiha Izuna and Uchiha Madara, here to see Uchiha Hikaku.’ Izuna replied smartly, maintaining a pleasant facade even in the face of two disgruntled bouncers.
‘That’s the one from The Founders. Checks out.’ The man with the guest list confirmed and fished bright green coloured wristbands to unceremoniously tape them around their wrists. ‘In you go.’ They were waved off and the two men turned their attention to the next group of people behind them.
‘That went better than I expected. They were slightly terrifying.’ Izuna mumbled once they were out of earshot, stealing glances at the two solid bulks of muscle maintaining the entrance.
Madara hummed in response, taking a look around the club. It was bigger than he thought, easily able to accommodate around five hundred people. It was also decently crowded and more people kept pouring in. The stage was ready with fans standing already under it with cups of beer and waiting for the first band to show up. He was slightly impressed. Izuna wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Hikaku’s band was attracting quite a crowd already.
‘Shall we get to the bar? I’m kinda thirsty.’ Madara suggested. This evening was going to be loud, full of people jumping madly and he really wasn’t going through all that sober.
Izuna narrowed his eyes slightly, obviously unwilling to part with his cash since he was paying, but headed in the direction of the bar all the same. Madara trailed after him, if only from the apprehension about being left alone in the crowd, making it hard for Izuna to find him again since he really did blend in quite well in his old clothes. He used to be such a hooligan in his raging puberty.
While they waited in another queue, people at the front started cheering and yelling, dragging Madara’s attention back to the stage. The first band was just trailing onto the elevated platform, adjusting their instruments and getting ready to start. By the time they were finally handed their drinks, the opening tones of the first song rumbled through the speakers. It was loud and also not Madara’s cup of tea but he probably heard worse.
They settled more to the back, since the band they came here for was the second one, nodding along and watching the performance. As he wasn’t that invested in the songs, which, if he were to be honest, after a while started to sound all the same, mostly angsty anthems for rebelling teenagers, he scanned the crowd in front of them with a slightly uninterested gaze.
His heart jolted with panic when he spotted a flicker of wispy silver hair, a stark contrast against the sea of blackness punk rock fans tended to dress in. Although, when he blinked and squinted harder, there was nothing. ‘Aniki?’ Izuna elbowed him with a questioning look, apparently noticing how tense he suddenly went.
Madara just shook his head dismissively. He must have imagined things. Or maybe he didn’t but that also didn’t necessarily have to mean that that silver wavy head he supposedly saw was attached to the one person he thought he spotted. It was, frankly, ridiculous to be so jumpy whenever he saw anyone with silver hair. It has been years since he had seen… No, he wouldn’t be thinking of him. It was their city, yes, they both had their families still there but that didn’t mean he would show up out of the blue just for a concert. The odds were just too low since he never even returned for any holiday to spend with his brothers and parents. Evading everyone. Cutting them off.
With a resolute harrumph, Madara decided to put those thoughts aside. It was utterly stupid to still be so attached to someone who left and severed any and all ties, years later. Instead of spacing out and delving into the whirlwind of memories, Madara sipped on his beer, grimacing slightly as it was already getting stale and it wasn’t particularly good when it was still fresh to begin with. He was there to enjoy the evening with his brother, not to wind himself up into depression. Even though the taste of this beer from hell was far from enjoyable.
As the first band wrapped up with the last song, bowing and waving to the cheering fans, a good portion of the crowd headed out to get a bit of fresh air or a smoke before the main star of the evening, The Founders, would take their place. Izuna’s chatting about school and what kind of trouble he and his friends were getting themselves into was, thankfully, distracting enough to forget his previous hallucination.
Madara had to leave for a moment for a loo, at which point Izuna wandered to the bar to get them another beer. ‘Come on, let’s move a little closer. I want to see better and wave to Hikaku! He hasn’t been responding to any texts.’ A cup was pushed into his palm and since Izuna got his hand free, he wrapped his fingers around Madara’s wrist to tug him along. For someone of not exactly a tall stature, his brother weaved his way through the masses of people skillfully, until they were almost at the front.
Madara wasn’t exactly overjoyed as he knew how wild things could turn at the front rows of rock concerts. He was a little too old for getting himself stomped all over in a mosh pit but he wasn’t about to spoil things for Izuna, who was grinning and practically bouncing on the spot, so excited to see their cousin. Izuna and Hikaku were always great friends and his brother was bummed when Hikaku moved across the country because of his studies.
The crowd started boiling when one of the rowdies came out of the backstage to check if the mics and all other equipment was ready. ‘Oi! Madara!’ He suddenly heard a yell somewhere on his left. His head snapped in the direction of a familiar voice to confirm that indeed, Hashirama was towering over the flock of people not so far from them, tucked safely behind a barrier to escape the crowd. Lucky bastard.
Slightly perplexed at what the hell was Hashirama doing at a punk rock concert, Madara waved back at his friend, alerting Izuna of the Senju’s presence. ‘Oh look, aniki, it’s Hashi!’ Izuna elbowed him to the ribs.
Madara wheezed. ‘I can see that. He’s pretty hard to miss with his giant genes.’ He grumbled, rubbing at his abused torso with a frown.
‘Look, he’s waving us over. Shall we join him?’ Izuna suggested and before Madara could give him any kind of answer, he found himself being dragged yet again, this time in the direction of Hashirama, who was beaming widely, evidently overjoyed to bump into them here.
‘Madara, Izuna! Fancy seeing you here!’ Hashirama hurried to the safety barrier to hug them over the waist-high bars. Izuna hugged the big oaf back enthusiastically while Madara endured his embrace long sufferingly, groaning with pain as Hashirama’s iron grip made his back pop. He really was getting old.
‘You are on a guest list too? Don’t you want to come over to safety?’ Hashirama continued on his stream of talking once he noticed their wristbands were of the same colour as his. Madara didn’t even notice they were given different bands than the rest of the guests. Mentally, he appreciated that Hikaku was so thoughtful.
Before he knew what was happening, Izuna shoved his cup into his free hand and proceeded to jump over the railings to the VIP area. Now Madara had no other choice but to follow unless he wanted to face the crowd on his own. Weighing his options, he decided that Hashirama’s endless blubbering was likely a better alternative than being trampled and so he followed. There was a brief confusion when one of the security guys noticed and rushed over to throw them out, which Hashirama and Izuna promptly cleared. With a sharp disapproving look, the bouncer left them to their devices, muttering under his breath. Madara was quite relieved he wouldn’t get into a fight with security. Yet.
‘So what are you guys doing here?’ Hashirama leaned over to address them both at the same time.
‘We’re here to see Hikaku, he invited us!’ Izuna spared him the need of replying. ‘What about you?’ He eyed Hashirama, who wasn’t exactly dressed for a punk rock concert but obviously didn’t care a bit. Hashirama always had his own world and cared little for conventions, which was what Madara admired about his friend so much. It was a pity they have grown a bit apart since they both started working. Maybe he should make more time for his precious people.
‘Oh, I’m here with Kawa and Itama… Where did the boys go?’ Hashirama patted himself in search of his phone, only to be assaulted by his aforementioned brothers, specifically Kawarama who jumped onto his back and threw him off balance. Itama greeted them with a kind smile, ignoring the two brawling Senju in favour of craning his neck towards the stage. Madara entertained himself watching Hashirama’s flouncing as he tried to pry Kawarama off himself until Itama’s squeak forced their attention on him.
‘Look, they are about to start!’ Itama pointed vehemently, bouncing on the balls of his feet, crowd shouting and whistling as Hikaku appeared on the stage, his hair in two ponytails, strapping the electric guitar, followed by a blonde-haired guy who seated himself behind the drumset.
‘Woooo! It’s Touka!’ Kawarama hollered and Hashirama, resigned from getting him off, hoisted him a bit higher up his back so that he could see better. A dark-haired woman with a topknot, wearing a leather skirt and fishnets and dark wine lipstick strode confidently onto the podium and ran her fingers over the strings of her deep green bass guitar, sending the audience into a frenzy. Madara winced at the sheer loudness of the Senju brothers, joined by Izuna openly smitten with the woman on stage. They were such a bunch of hooligans when they put their minds to it.
Minding his own business, he suddenly had an arm thrown around his shoulders and Hashirama plastered to his side while Kawarama on his back ruffled his hair playfully and dodged skillfully when he smacked his hand away. ‘Touka is our cousin! We’ve come here to see her and…’ His friend yelled into his ear, only to be cut off when the drummer started testing his drums, slowly joined by Hikaku and Touka.
Madara just thought to himself that Izuna vaguely mentioned there were four members in the band but anything he might have said went out of the proverbial window a moment later. He would have preferred to have his assumptions confirmed in a less mind blowing manner but when another guitar joined in the soundcheck and its player sauntered into view to settle in the centre of the stage in front of a mic, all of his breath had been stolen out of his lungs.
Wide-eyed and starstruck, Madara gaped at the silver-haired man, so achingly familiar and yet so different from the last time he had seen him. His unruly curls were cut shorter as he was now sporting an undercut, showing off the numerous piercings in his ears. His otherworldly pale features were further accentuated by three thin red lines on his cheeks and chin, tattoos that he had to get some time after his departure. He had another metal stud in his left eyebrow. He was dressed in a simple black and white striped shirt and dark ripped jeans that clung to his mile long legs almost sinfully.
Madara watched, enraptured and kind of refusing to believe his own eyes, as Tobirama leaned to the microphone, his thin lips hovering barely above it, as he addressed the spectators. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are The Founders.’ His voice resounded all over the venue, intimately familiar but somehow different. Deeper, even smoother, doing all sorts of things to Madara’s insides. Hashirama and his brothers were going apeshit next to him but Madara couldn’t give a damn about them. Not when the very man haunting his thoughts for years was standing just a few paces in front of him, even more beautiful than he remembered.
Without any further ado, Tobirama started playing his guitar with a quick riff and started singing.
So am I still waiting
For this world to stop hating
Can't find a good reason
Can't find hope to believe in
After that, the rest of the band joined in, the tempo of the song quick but the melody catchy. Madara went still when Tobirama screamed into the mic, the melodic refrain contrasting with the verse.
Drop dead, a bullet to my head
Your words are like a gun in hand
You can't change the state of the nation
We just need some motivation
These eyes have seen no conviction
Just lies and more contradiction
So tell me, what would you say?
I'd say it's time to
The audience going wild behind the barriers, The Founders slid back into the refrain, Touka and Hikaku joining in for the background vocals. The rest of the song flew by, followed by the deafening yell of the half-drunk fans. ‘That’s my little brother!’ Hashirama hollered on top of his lungs, looking proud beyond measure.
Madara was completely enraptured by the utterly charming smile Tobirama offered to the fans with his thanks when he felt a pinch on his forearm. Snapping his eyes with a hiss at whoever inflicted the pain, Izuna was looking at him with slight concern. ‘Aniki, are you okay?’
He shrugged with feigned offhandedness, which Izuna obviously wasn’t buying. Luckily the band started another song, drawing Izuna’s attention back on the stage and leaving Madara to stare and reminisce. Was he okay? Probably not. His first love, the very man who broke his heart by moving away without explanation, the one who just couldn’t stop thinking about no matter what, was right there, almost within his reach.
Part of me, won't agree
Cause I don't know if it's for sure
Suddenly, suddenly
I don't feel so insecure
Anymore!
Why do things that matter the most
Never end up being what we chose?
Now that I find no way so bad
I don't think I knew what I had
Another song ended. Tobirama grinned at the applauding spectators and Madara followed with his eyes as he bent for a bottle of water to take a few gulps. As if bewitched, he watched the bob of the adam’s apple, the small trickle of water on his chin that Tobirama wiped with his forearm and struck the strings of his guitar with long nimble fingers.
In this song, he was taking turns with Hikaku, whose voice was surprisingly complementary.
I know I'm not the one you thought you knew back in high school
Never going, never showing up when we had to
Attention that we crave
Don't tell us to behave
I'm sick of always hearing "act your age"
I don't wanna waste my time
Become another casualty of society
I'll never fall in line
Become another victim of your conformity and back down
Tobirama on the stage definitely wasn’t the one Madara thought he knew back then. In highschool, Tobirama was every bit of a nerd, a bit of an underdog, nose permanently stuck in a book, with the exception of his athletic trainings. Dark-rimmed glasses he used to wear were nowhere in sight, which was a little disappointing, because despite all the teasing Tobirama endured over them, Madara always thought he looked very cute in them.
While he was lost in his thoughts, the song ended and Hikaku was saying something into Tobirama’s ear, making him irrationally jealous. ‘It’s good to see you’re having fun! Now our next song is for everyone whose parents ever let them down.’ Tobirama abruptly said into the mic and Hikaku struck his guitar, strumming a slow riff which Tobirama and the drummer joined.
I haven't been home for a while
I'm sure everything's the same
Mom and Dad both in denial
An only child to take the blame
Sorry, Mom, but I don't miss you
Father's no name you deserve
I'm just a kid with no ambitions
Wouldn't come home for the world
Never know what I've become
The king of all that's said and done
The forgotten son
This city's buried in defeat
I walk along these no name streets
Wave goodbye to all
As I fall...
Madara relished in the sound of Tobirama’s voice, pouring raw emotions into the verses. He also noticed how Hashirama next to him stiffened and assumed a wounded expression and how he hugged both Kawarama and Itama who clung to him like vines. Was there something he was missing?
The riff suddenly changed into a much quicker one, matching the pace of previous songs, Touka joining with her bass.
At the dead end I begin
To burn the bridge of innocence
Satisfaction guaranteed
A pill-away catastrophe
On a mission nowhere bound
Inhibitions underground
A shallow grave I
Have dug all by myself
And now I've been gone for so long
I can't remember who was wrong
All innocence is long gone
I pledge allegiance to a world of disbelief
Where I belong
A walking disaster
The son of all bastards
You regret you made me
It's too late to save me
The song was actually very catchy, quite a banger. The crowd under the stage was going wild, singing along and jumping like crazy. As far as punk rock anthems went, this one was definitely record worthy. Madara could just imagine it playing on the radio in his car, Tobirama’s voice keeping him company on the way to work since it was likely all he was permitted to have from him. Still he couldn’t help but notice that the lyrics were definitely deeply meaningful to not just the lead singer but also his brothers watching his performance.
And now I've been gone for so long
I can't remember who was wrong
All innocence is long gone
I pledge allegiance to a world of disbelief
Where I belong
A walking disaster
The son of all bastards
You regret you made me
It's too late to save me
As the song winded into a bridge, Madara glanced again at the Senju brothers. Hashirama looked ready to burst in tears, comforted by Itama and Kawa, evidently struck with the lyrics. There had to be a story behind this that Madara didn’t know but he had a hunch. There was only one thing Hashirama ever remained tight-lipped over and that was the reason Tobirama left.
Unexpectedly, the song slowed back down to the melody it started with. Once he aimed his attention back to the stage, he startled as Tobirama was looking straight their way. Or better, at his three brothers.
I will be home in a while
You don't have to say a word
I can't wait to see you smile
Wouldn't miss it for the world
Tobirama ended with a much more optimistic tone, sending a fond smile their way before he ducked his head and strode to Touka, whispering something furiously into her ear and gesturing their way. Madara would have loved to know what it was about but he was distracted by Hashirama’s rather loud way of cleaning his nose as the idiot was bawling by the end of the song. Madara rolled his eyes only inwardly this time. It was kind of touching.
‘Now, we don’t only have bangers to play! There’s a special someone today our next song is about and I’m sure Tobi would love to sing it now!’ Touka’s husky voice, dripping with mischief, purred into her mic. Interestingly, Tobirama responded to her with a withering glare and something hissed which couldn’t be heard but could probably be translated as vague death threats if his body language was anything to go by. Touka only grinned devilishly. ‘Come on Tobi, we are waiting!’ She egged him on, joined by the roar of the crowd.
Tobirama squared his jaws furiously and gripped the neck of his blue stratocaster a little tighter, adjusting the buttons all the while. When he closed his eyes and started playing, the sound was an acoustic one, slow and kind of… Romantic?
I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everything's nothing without you
I'd wait here forever just to, to see you smile
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
Through it all, I've made my mistakes
I stumble and fall, but I mean these words
I want you to know
With everything, I won't let this go
These words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment, you know
As I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
Madara forgot to breathe for a moment. The rest of the band joined in and Tobirama switched to electric effect for the refrain but he barely noticed, way too preoccupied with wrapping his mind around the fact that this was, unmistakably and by all accounts, a love song. One that Tobirama sung with an air of such longing and slight desperation, making his heart clench tightly. He knew this kind of longing way too intimately.
Thoughts read unspoken, forever in vow
And pieces of memories fall to the ground
I know what I didn't have, so I won't let this go
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
All the streets where I walked alone
With nowhere to go, have come to an end
I want you to know
With everything, I won't let this go
These words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment, you know
As I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
As Madara watched Tobirama’s lips to form the syllables, memories flooded his mind. What a nervous trainwreck he was when he asked him out for the first time, waiting for Tobirama after his training, and how shy the silver-haired man, still a boy back in the time, was while accepting with an utterly lovable smile.
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you don't know what you're looking to find
In front of your eyes, it falls from the skies
When you just never know what you will find
Those tingles when their hands met in the bag of popcorn they shared, both of them suddenly paying no attention at all to the movie they went to watch. When he dropped Tobirama off later and, after a moment of hesitation, Tobirama leaned over the shifting gear to peck his cheek with a kiss before he bolted out of the car in panic, leaving dumbstruck Madara staring ahead for good two minutes before he gathered his wits and drove off.
I don't want this moment to ever end
Where everything's nothing without you
I want you to know
With everything, I won't let this go
These words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment, you know
As I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
Their second date by the lake when they went swimming during a particularly hot summer day and kissed properly for the first time in the shade of a tree, both so inexperienced and shaky yet so desperately lost in each other. Countless other times they kissed over the course of the summer they dated. How completely mesmerising were Tobirama’s freckles which became so much more pronounced with the exposure to sunlight. The shade of his white eyelashes against his flushed cheeks. The way Tobirama’s fingers slotted between his own when they held hands, perfect in every possible way. The last time he saw Tobirama, who kissed him sweetly goodbye before he would pick him up the next day for their planned road trip that never took place.
With everything, I won't let this go
These words are my heart and soul
I'll hold on to this moment, you know
As I bleed my heart out to show
And I won't let go
He could feel Izuna’s fingers gently wrapped around his biceps but he couldn’t will himself to look away, afraid to even blink and miss a second of the heart wrenching performance. Tobirama kept his eyes closed or firmly locked on his fingerboard throughout the whole song but once he struck the last chord, leaving it to fizzle out, he finally glanced their way, his eyes locking with Madara’s. If he wasn’t rooted to the spot before, he surely was now, in spite of the deafening yelling of the crowd surrounding them. There could have been thousands of people now and he wouldn’t pay attention to anyone else but Tobirama.
‘Well, since we’ve slowed down, we’ve got another for you!’ After what felt like a small eternity, Hikaku broke the spell and Tobirama looked away.
So what am I fighting for?
Everything back and more
And I'm not gonna let this go
I'm ready to settle the score
Get ready 'cause this is war
There are days that I think I'm crazy
Other days nothing seems to faze me
There's nothing more and nothing less
Just all the fears that I must confess well
I'm afraid I believe in nothing
No hopes or dreams you could've left me dead
Naive and not to mention
I'm losing count of all my blessings
With all that I've done, it's too late
I can't take back all that I have become
So all that I'm trying to say
I'm looking for a better way
Some days it just gets so hard
And I don't wanna slip away
So what am I fighting for?
Everything back and more
And I'm not gonna let this go
I'm ready to settle the score
Get ready 'cause this is war
The amount of emotions Tobirama poured into the performance was truly breathtaking and when the song ended, transitioning into a few quicker songs, Madara was convinced that there was something deeply personal about all of the lyrics.
‘Say, does your brother often write lyrics to their songs?’ He decided to brave a question to Hashirama who seemed to be going through a similar emotional turmoil, likely having more context as to what they were about.
Hashirama sniffed and nodded. ‘Tobi wrote almost all of them!’ Kawarama paused his jumping up and down into the rhythm of another fast song for long enough to reply for Hashirama. Tobirama was just in the middle of a guitar solo, his fingers flying over the fingerboard with godspeed, his back arched and face bathed with the red tint of the reflector. The image was probably going to be burned into Madara’s mind for eternity.
So tell me what's real
I don't know if I can feel
So tell me what's right
I don't see the light
All that we have is just slipping away
And I don't believe that it's gonna be okay
You can't stop the bleeding, it's almost too late
You're leaving us all behind with hell to pay
‘Thank you everyone, you’ve been a great audience!’ Hikaku yelled into his mic enthusiastically once the last song of the set ended, the whole band gathering and bowing and waving to the crowd of fans. The drummer threw a few of his drumsticks randomly, having people diving for them over each other. The Founders appeared to be really popular. Madara had no doubts that with performances like this one, they would have a record contract under their belt in no time.
As it turned out, there was one more band to play even though the headliner just finished. The Founders took their guitars and went backstage, emptying the podium for the soundman and another staff to rebuild it and prepare the instruments for the last band. ‘I’m sorry, aniki, I didn’t know he was in the band, I swear.’ Izuna mumbled dejectedly, his palm still wrapped around Madara’s arm. ‘I mean, Hikaku did mention their frontman is called Tobi but I never connected the dots…’ He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, looking genuinely apologetic.
Madara waved him off. ‘I’m not mad at you. But I really need to talk to a certain someone.’ He glanced from Izuna to Hashirama, who was hovering nearby unsurely. He just knew that if given the chance, Tobirama was ninety-nine percent sure to make a run for it, trying to vanish without explanation once more. He wouldn’t have that. Not again.
Hashirama heaved a deep sigh. ‘I guess you are owed the explanation. But I’m not really the one to tell you. I have sworn to keep my mouth shut.’ With that, Hashirama turned around, waving his palm for them to follow, heading in the direction of backstage.
‘Why would you say something like that in front of all those people? Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?!’ He could hear Tobirama growling, likely restraining himself from yelling and causing a bigger scene.
‘How the hell would it be humiliating? The song is fucking beautiful! Have you not seen the way he was looking at you the whole time?’ Touka’s voice replied tersely.
‘That’s beside the point! He wasn’t supposed to…’ Tobirama cut himself abruptly off as they strutted into the backstage, Hashirama first and the rest of them in tow.
‘Wasn’t supposed to do what?’ Madara crossed his arms, glaring at Tobirama sternly.
‘Anija!’ Tobirama more or less whined, ignoring him in favour of berating Hashirama for bringing them in. He was fully intent on making himself scarce then. Well, not today.
‘Don’t be mad at me Tobi! I think this talk is long overdue.’ Hashirama appeared to be a little afraid to upset his brother but still intent on forcing them to speak. At least sometimes he was remotely useful.
‘Come on boys, let’s grab some snacks and talk… somewhere not here.’ Touka not so subtly herded Kawarama and Itama, both of them wide-eyed, out of the backstage, giving Madara a perfunctory nod of approval on their way out.
Tobirama looked a little constipated for a while, before he smacked his face with his palm and groaned loudly. ‘I hate every last one of you.’ He growled through the gaps between his fingers viciously before he crossed the space between them with several purposeful strides and grabbed Madara’s wrist, dragging him away. ‘I’m not doing this here in front of them.’ Tobirama threw over his shoulder at Hashirama, Izuna and Hikaku, who just ducked out of their way.
Not a word had been said while they weaved through the small labyrinth of back corridors. Tobirama seemed ready to explode any moment for how tense his shoulders were and Madara was a bit overwhelmed by the fact that his wrist was still held in a firm grip as he trotted after him.
It wasn’t until Tobirama kicked the back door open and a crisp night air filled his lungs that grip loosened in favour of tangling into the mess of silver hair and tugging at them harshly. ‘God dammit!’ Tobirama yelled into the night furiously.
‘It’s nice to see you too.’ Madara responded dryly, watching his tantrum with arms folded.
Tobirama’s head jerked at him, his eyes wide. He took a step towards him, arm outstretched, but then stopped himself and let it fall, hanging limply by his side until it balled into a fist. ‘Fuck. This wasn’t how I imagined this to go.’ Tobirama mumbled and rubbed his eyes tiredly before he ruffled his hair even more, making them an even bigger mess which really had no business to look so attractive on him. Madara knew him well enough to know he was nervous.
‘It’s surprising you have ever even thought of me.’ He threw the words at him accusingly. If he ever thought he was finally over this, he was lying to himself because seeing Tobirama now, standing right in front of him in flesh and blood, all those emotions hit him square in the face with just one wounded look Tobirama directed at him.
‘I-’ Tobirama started only to drop his gaze, voice failing him. ‘Don’t be unfair. I’ve never stopped. Not really.’ He said eventually, voice barely above a whisper.
He looked so vulnerable and earnest and it was setting Madara’s temper off. Years of repressed hurt and rage were finally coming loose. ‘Then why have you left in the first place? With no explanation whatsoever? Why?!’ He crossed the space between them to grab at his shoulders, shaking the other man furiously.
Tobirama’s hands shot up to push him away. Or that was what Madara thought was going to happen. Therefore he froze when two arms snuck around his waist, bringing him into a hug. It was so damn easy to let his palms slide over the shoulders to wrap around a lean neck and yank that silver-haired head low enough to press his lips against Tobirama’s. Tobirama whimpered quietly and pressed back, weakly and hesitantly. Madara was having none of it. He kissed hard, pouring all of his frustration into it, searing this moment into his memory in case it was the last time he was able to claim those infuriatingly addicting lips for himself. He vaguely registered Tobirama’s fingers burying into his hair, entangled the way they always used to, holding on with an urgent kind of desperation.
It seemed to take a small eternity before they resurfaced for oxygen, foreheads pressed together, both of them panting hard. ‘Fuck. I’ve missed this so much.’ Tobirama murmured, squeezing him tenderly.
Madara hummed faintly and dipped his face to hide it in the nook of Tobirama’s neck, to breathe in a bit of that intoxicating smell. He was still using the same aftershave. ‘Tell me. Tell me you don’t love me any more to make this easier.’ He wanted to be mad with him so damn much yet he just couldn’t. Tobirama always had a weird kind of influence over him. How could he possibly be angry with him when he was there, now, trembling in their embrace? He leaned back to look him in the eye, to search for any kind of explanation, for a reason to act like a sensible person and yell and accuse instead of falling into his arms as if nothing ever happened. As if it was yesterday they kissed goodbye and not four damn years.
A shaky palm caressed his chin, a thumb sweeping over his lower lip. Tobirama’s eyes were glassy, glistening with unshed tears. ‘Do you really want me to lie? You know that I have always…’
Madara somehow couldn’t bear to hear these words. It was better to silence him with another kiss. ‘You left me.’ He accused, his words getting out all gritty as his throat was suddenly so damn tight. He wouldn’t cry. He was done crying over this. He swore that he was.
Tobirama actually hiccuped, a single tear running down his tattooed cheek. ‘I had no other choice.’ He shook his head helplessly.
Madara couldn’t take this anymore. He needed to know, to finally have the closure, if there ever was anything else to be. ‘What happened? Hashirama never said.’ He demanded, not harshly but desperately enough to force another tear out of Tobirama.
‘It was probably the only secret Hashirama ever kept.’ Tobirama sniffed, trying to regain his composure. ‘That night you dropped me off. We were supposed to go on a trip the next day, just you and me.’ His voice was incredibly soft, so vulnerable.
‘Yes?’ Madara reached out to wipe his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. Of course that he remembered. He replayed that scene in his head a million times, trying to decipher what happened. Did he do something wrong? Was there any sign he missed?
‘Father found out. About us. He reacted… unfavourably.’ Tobirama screwed his eyes shut, likely to prevent more tears from spilling.
Madara felt his rage bubbling once again. ‘What. Did he do to you?’ He growled. Butsuma was always an ass, neglecting parent at best, abusive at worst when his temper snapped.
Tobirama sniffed again and wiped his nose over his forearm. ‘He said that I was no longer a son of his. That he wouldn’t suffer a…’ His breath hitched with a mix of anger and hurt. ‘A faggot under his roof. He sent me across the country to live with my aunt, Touka’s mother.’ He finished with difficulty, holding onto Madara like a lifeline.
All the anger Madara might have felt against Tobirama multiplied a hundred folds and redirected at Butsuma. ‘I knew he was a dickhead but this…’ He was probably shaking with rage or maybe it was Tobirama still trembling in his arms, he was none the wiser.
‘I thought it would be easier to just… Vanish. Let you blame me for everything and hate me instead of making things difficult for you and anija.’ Tobirama explained, appearing to have calmed down a bit.
‘I could never…’ Madara blurted out. ‘Gods, I wanted to . But I couldn’t hate you.’ He confessed.
‘You should have moved on. I hoped that you would. I wanted you to be happy.’ Tobirama murmured, burying his face into the mess of his dark hair.
Madara laughed humourlessly. ‘Another thing I couldn’t do. Not without you.’
Tobirama mirrored his laugh with a shaky one of his own, resurfacing to kiss his forehead gently. ‘That makes the two of us, apparently.’ He pecked his cheek, just like he did for the very first time in Madara’s old fiesta. ‘I felt like I was falling apart without you. There were times I thought I’d rather die than suffer through this any longer.’
Madara inhaled sharply. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. Now matter how hard I tried, you were always there, always on my mind. But I didn't expect to see you again.’
Tobirama smiled ruefully. ‘When we got a gig here… I didn’t know what I would say to you but I knew I had to see you. For one last time, even if it meant you would punch the everliving soul out of me. Although, when I saw you in the crowd…’
Madara snorted weakly. ‘You should see yourself up there. I almost had a stroke when you showed up.’ The moment Tobirama started singing was so memorable he had probably etched it into his brain for the rest of eternity.
‘I thought I would fall right off the stage.’ Tobirama rubbed his face, slightly flushed. Madara decidedly liked that look on him better than when he was crying.
‘No. We can’t have you falling into anyone else’s arms.’ He tutted, smirking as Tobirama’s blush deepened a shade or two.
‘There’s no other… You’ve heard the song.’ He ducked his head, reminding Madara achingly of that shy boy he used to date. For everything that changed about him, Tobirama still remained the same. Maybe he was not a gangly teenager with glasses any more but he was still the dork he had fallen in love with.
‘If I were to ask you…’ He started quietly, peering hopefully into those achingly beautiful red eyes.
‘The answer is yes.’ Tobirama breathed out. ‘Unless you want to hear a no.’ He chuckled awkwardly when Madara laughed at his eagerness.
‘If I were to ask you to stay. To be with me. Would you?’ He had to word his request, hoping that the answer would still remain a firm and resounding yes. He just couldn’t let Tobirama go for a second time.
Tobirama’s eyes widened and his lower lip quivered, cupping his face with his palms to kiss him tenderly. ‘Forever and a day.’ He breathed out against Madara’s lips.
Madara couldn’t help but steal another kiss that would leave them both slightly breathless and very much weak in knees. ‘I will take you for your word.’ He laughed, Tobirama’s intoxicating presence filling him with immeasurable joy. It was a laugh of relief, knowing with unshakeable certainty that this time, they would make it work somehow. This time, he would move the whole world to make it so.
-------------------
Reporter: So, The Founders’ third album was just released last month and you are about to go on a tour with Green Day. One thing still remains a mystery though. I am sure that fans would love to finally know for sure who your most prominent love song, With Me, is about. Care to share?
Uchiha Hikaku: grinning mischievously Aww, we haven’t heard that one for a while.
Senju Touka: smirking That’s a question for you, Tobi!
Namikaze Minato: Are you sure that our fans are ready to handle the heartbreak?
Reporter: Now I really need to find out.
Senju Tobirama: looking over my shoulder and smiling fondly My husband. (redactors note - Uchiha Madara, the renowned event photographer)