Yumi set his violin case down on the floor and started opening it with practiced movements. He passed Souta a wicked grin, the kind that he and his brother were notorious for, and inwardly giggled to see it mirrored on his twin’s face. Souta was busy unpacking his cello, pulling it from its case and then sitting down in his folding chair, settling the instrument between his knees. He started tuning it, plucking and bowing the deep-voiced strings and twisting the pegs accordingly. Yumi sat down across from Souta and began doing the same to his violin. They tuned together, listening to the harmony of their instruments and only stopping when it was exactly right.

Without further ado, Yumi drew his bow across the strings and began a fluid melody, light and airy but tinged with a certain sadness, like the first drops of rain backed by dark clouds that promised a later downpour. It wasn’t much unlike the weather outside; mellow light permeated the air from the large window near them, the sky hanging heavily and darkly over the world, or at least their corner of it. Yumi’s eyes met Souta’s—identical, dark, narrow eyes, shielded by the crystal layers that were his glasses’ lenses. The stylish cat-eye shape was so characteristic of Souta. Feral, eccentric, beautiful. His brother. His twin. His Souta.

Souta had joined the song, but Yumi barely noticed. The cello’s voice singing alongside his violin was so natural that it was difficult to notice. It was just there. Souta’s slender fingers, so much like Yumi’s own except for the silver bands decorating a few of them, pressed purposefully on the notes, his hand moving deftly up and down the neck of his instrument while his other arm pulled the bow across the strings, drawing that dark, sweet sound from the cello. His eyes were averted, looking down at his instrument, and for a moment Yumi thought they might even be closed. But then it didn’t matter as they flickered up to meet his, and lightening cracked the sky outside. The rain began to come down.

The song picked up, their duet like a dance, each giving and taking, speaking and echoing, stepping forward and stepping back. The melody was sinuous and sensuous and bittersweet. Yumi naturally swayed with the song, with the movement of his arm and the fingering of his hand, leaning into the notes as they were strung from his violin. Souta rocked similarly, as much as his position would allow. The tempo of the song seemed to sync with the beating of their hearts, or maybe it was the other way around. One couldn’t tell. Gradually a flush found its way across Yumi’s face, mirrored on Souta’s cheeks and across the bridge of his smooth, unobtrusive nose. Their gazes remained locked, never separating, never breaking. The sound of the rain was nothing but an ambient backdrop, and neither a flash of lightning nor a crash of thunder could break their melody. The world seemed to drop out from underneath them, and everything else became trivial and unimportant. There was nothing else, nothing but themselves and their song. The melody began rising up to its climax and—

A wrong note. Souta winced, hearing it a fraction of second before Yumi, who closed his eyes, ignoring the disruption. But the damage was done; the spell was broken. Souta looked down at his instrument again, and Yumi’s eyes remained closed behind his square-framed glasses. The melody spiraled up and soared nonetheless before beginning to waft back down, lighting gently on the air. Gradually, the song dwindled and finally came to an end with a parting string of bittersweet notes.

Yumi and Souta stilled, their arms coming to their sides after a frozen moment. Yumi rested his violin on his knee, meeting Souta’s eyes again. “You missed that E flat,” he said.

Souta grimaced and looked away. “I know.”