Fortunate Fool (Takashi / Molly)

Fortunate Fool


“God damnit!” are the first words out of his mouth as he storms into the room. Here we go.

“Now what?” I watch him for a moment, then move to return to my playing, then change my mind. His tinnitus and all.

“That painting I was working on, you know, the watercolor?” Takashi holds his hands in the air in distress. Here we go, another evening of art club drama. Then again, it's not like there's not something always going on with the music club, too. The practice room is completely empty right now though, save for me and my violin. And, well, him too, now.

“The one that our trip to the river gave you the idea for?” I smile at the memory. The sky had been a sheet of pure blue that day, and the way it reflected off the water, beautiful, just beautiful. I had been inspired for days after that date, and he could say the same. Apparently, that story is about to have a less happy ending, though.

“Yeah.” Takashi frowns venomously, pacing around the empty band room. He has to keep stopping to make sure he doesn't bump into a music stand or the elevated parts of the carpeted floor, each time, he looks more and more upset by distractions that are keeping him from being upset. I sigh.

“So what happened?” I ask, stealing a peek at the sheet of music in front of me to memorize where I was at before returning my attention to the boy who looks like he's about to explode. And even worse than that, he looks like he doesn't want to explode, what he wants to do is cry. But that's something he won't let even me see, so instead he just puts everything he has into being angry instead of being hurt. But I can tell he is, he's so complicated sometimes.

Artists, right? Impossible.

“I've been working on it all week, it looked so great Molls, it was so great! I had it all finished up, put the final touches on and everything. And just as the art club meeting is wrapping up, I call over to the teacher.” Takashi's voice almost falters a few times, and he tries harder and harder to keep his rage going. He waves his hands up and down, I'm not sure if he's trying to paint in the air or claw at it. I decide to just wait for him to continue, and he does.

“So I called Nomiya over, but before he even got there, he takes one look at Tezuka.” Ohh, Tezuka again. I give my violin the tiniest tweak and Takashi shoots me a look.

“Molls.” He snaps. But instead of actually being angry at me, it's really a plea for me to listen in disguise. God, it just can't be simple with him. He's like a jigsaw puzzle that glares at you when you start to take too long with solving it.

Fortunately for him, I like puzzles. “Sorry, keep going.” I reply. Takashi takes a seat, looking pensive, then stands up again.

“Right, so he sees Tezuka, and she's just started stabbing at some blank canvas. Like, it's nothing Molls, it was nothing! Just some freaking swirls or something, god damn, I don't know.” He's starting to look a little woozy. Takashi sits down again, looking like he wants to kick the chair in front of him but refrains for fear of missing.

“And then what?”

“And then,” he rolls his eyes, batting at the air with one hand. “Nomiya just says 'I'll be right with you, Maeda”, and goes over to hover and coo and squawk over her shoulder as she paints. 'Ooh, very good Tezuka', 'I can see it falling into place, Tezuka'. God damn it!” He's back to being angry again. Takashi decides to go for it and aims a kick at the chair, and yes, he misses.

He scowls bitterly, one hand reaching up to rest on his bandaged right ear. It throws him off, his tinnitus. We've all had ringing in our ears before, but for him, it's almost always there, and sometimes it gets so bad, so loud, I know it's painful, even if he won't tell me. He just gets mad, and he grips with it. I think that's what really makes his paintings great sometimes. You know, that whole 'struggling with something that you can't really overcome' thing? Like, it hurts. And he hurts, but he doesn't want to hurt, and he doesn't want people to know that he does either. But he does want them to know, or else, why would he paint like that? They really are beautiful sometimes. I've seen Tezuka's work and they're something else, that's for sure, but Takashi's paintings are so full of raw emotion when he wants them to be. As a musician, I can appreciate them, even if he has to explain them to me sometimes.

I gently lay down my violin in its case, before getting up to move to the seat next to him.

“And then the club period ended...” I say, trying to prod him along.

“And then the period ended, and Nomiya never even took a look. He just didn't care. Because I'm not Tezuka, because I'm not his 'star pupil'.” He spits the last two words, but he's not glaring anymore, he looks absolutely miserable.

“Where's the painting now? I want to see it.” I smile at him, but he glances at me and his expression turns even worse.

“I, uh.” He looks away, suddenly embarrassed. “I might have...”

“You didn't!” I cry, standing up.

“I tore it up. Sorry, Molls.” He stares at the floor, unable to meet my gaze.

“Takashi, you jerk!” That picture was in part to commemorate our date at the river! It was a reminder of him actually doing something romantic for once, the way he'd put out the canvas and asked me to hold still, the way he'd looked at me, as if he wanted to immortalize the sight... it had been such a great day. And now he's gone and ruined that, just because he was jealous of Rin Tezuka.

“That painting was special to us! To me!” Nobody's ever bothered to paint a picture of me before. I had really wanted to see it, when it was done. I've been looking forward to it all week!

Takashi's rage has completely seeped out of him now. He continues looking at the floor, upset with himself, upset with his teacher, upset with his perceived lack of talent compared to Nomiya's favorite. It can't be just one thing with him, it has to be all muddled together like this. His paintings are wonderful, but when it comes to him actually dealing with things like this in real life, his efforts always come out like swirls of paints that just blur into an ugly brown.

“Look, Molls, I'm really sorry. I was just, I was angry, and I worked so damn hard on that painting and he wouldn't even look at it! All he cared about was her. He only has eyes for Tezuka.”

“You worked so hard, and now I can't look at it even though I want to.” I pout. I wish he didn't do things like this, destroying your own work doesn't accomplish anything.

“I know, I know...” He glances up at me for a quick moment before looking away again. Even when he acts stupidly, like now, I still like those eyes. The spark behind them, the tiny glimmer of ongoing pain from his condition and the determination it gives him to throw himself into his art.

“Takashi.” I gently sit down on his legs, and he has no choice but to turn those eyes on me now. As pig-headed as he can be sometimes, I still really like him, even if my friends give me crap for it. But they don't see the part of him that I do. I don't think anyone else does, which is why he keeps coming back, why he always apologizes for his outbursts. He really likes me too, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

“I don't care about Tezuka, or Nomiya. I want to see the things you paint.” I say softly. He gives me that look, the one that everyone else thinks is just another glare, but I know better. He wants to believe the things I'm saying but at the same time he doesn't, because he doesn't want to get attached to just another person that he'll end up driving away.

Artists. So complicated. Well, here's something that's not quite so complex.

“I don't care if the art teacher only has eyes for Tezuka. I only have eyes for you.” I say, and then lean in to kiss him on the lips. He resists for only a fraction of a second before giving in.

When we pull apart, he looks pissed again, but I can tell he's just embarrassed. It's cute. And it's dumb, which is kind of cute too. Back to being complicated.

“Okay. Okay.” Takashi says after a few moments, nodding to himself. That creative gleam is back in his eyes. “I'll make you another one.”

“Really?” I stand up, feeling a genuine smile on my face. He smiles back, winces for a second, reaches for his ear, then stops. It comes and goes. Some times are worse than others.

“Yeah.” He picks back up where he left off. “I'll do it right now, come on.” He gets up and rolls his shoulders, suddenly full of energy. It's good to see.

“Bring the violin.” He says.



“Takashi, I don't-”

“Hold still.” He peers at me from the other side of the easel, brow knit in concentration. The sun is starting to set, bathing the art room in a deep orange glow. It's beautiful, but I can only stand like this for so long. Before, he just made me wait long enough to capture the general image and he would finish it later, now it seems like he wants to catch every detail and freeze it in time.

I guess I should be flattered. No, I am. And it's not like I'm not used to holding my violin for so long either, but when I'm performing or practicing I can still move. In fact, that's the general idea. This is a lot more uncomfortable.

“Takashi...”

“Almost got it...”

It's another five full minutes before he speaks again.

“There, okay.”

I let out a deep sigh, letting my arms drop to my sides and relaxing my posture. “Can I look?” I ask.

“If you want.” He scowls at the canvas as he stands, still deep in thought. I slowly set down my violin and walk over to stand next to him.

Before us is a whirlwind splash of colors and light, vivid, wavy lines make out the room that we're in. A girl stands in the center of the picture, her eyes closed and her head inclined towards the violin she cradles in one arm. I'm glad he was able to imagine that detail, if he had made me shut my eyes for that long I probably would have fallen over.

“Do you like it?” He asks, staring straight ahead as if afraid to look at me.

“It's beautiful.” And I mean it. If it's anything like the first one, then the world really is worse for its loss.

“It's all yours.” He says, glancing at me and smiling before returning his gaze to the painting.

“Ahh...! You mean it?” I ask, unable to keep a grin from spreading across my face.

“Yeah.”

“You don't want to show it to Nomiya first?”

Takashi shrugs, before turning to me with narrowed eyes and a wry grin, an interesting combination that looks right at home on his face. “Who cares, he wouldn't be able to appreciate my genius anyway.”

He's such an idiot sometimes, and he still manages to make me smile like I'm one too. “Thank you, Takashi. I mean it.” I give him a hug, and he glances around the room, making his angry, embarrassed face again. Afterwards, he sits back down in his chair again, staring at the painting.

“Hey Molls.” He grasps his chin in one hand, looking thoughtful. “Can you play me a song?”

“Hmm?” I still have my violin. But... “What about your ear?”

“Just a little one. A quiet one, maybe.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, then looks away.

“I trust you.” He says, and then glares straight ahead, as if daring me to prove to him that he shouldn't.

So very complicated. But it really is a beautiful painting. And it's a good feeling, connecting with him like this. Even when he's a jerk sometimes, even when he does stupid things. I like the overall package, tinnitus and all.

“Okay.” I retrieve my violin, before taking a much needed seat across from him. Frowning, but eyes still sparkling, Takashi gently puts the finished painting aside, and reaches for a fresh canvas.

I play for him, and he continues to paint, until the sun goes down and we retreat with the last dying rays of light.




"Fortunate Fool" is a song by Jack Johnson.