Runnin' with the devil

Part 5

Suddenly, someone in the audience wolf whistles, and there's a whoop of, "Play it, sexy!" Shouto's eyes dart that direction and he catches sight of Mina and Kaminari, with twin grins on their faces. Shouto has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Nobody would have ever dared do anything like that at any of the concerts he's played at before. Then there's the others, the other members of Heartbeat Reverberation, and the rest of his friends. Right in front of him, in the middle of the front row, sit Kirishima (who has set up an entire tripod for his camera) and Midoriya. They look fantastic in dressy clothes, but Midoriya has stuck with those damn red kicks of his. Shouto gives them the smallest smile, and they grin back. Kirishima flashes a thumbs up.

They're all there, all except...

Kirishima waves a hand subtly to get Shouto's attention. Without turning around, Midoriya sneakily points over his shoulder.

Shouto glances behind them, towards the back of the hall, and—oh. Oh, wow.

Bakugou came to see him after all.

He stands against the far back wall instead of sitting with everyone else, so Shouto wouldn't have been able to miss him, even if the others hadn't pointed him out. Shouto hasn't seen him in nearly three weeks, and it's like—like a hand punching right through his stomach to strike a match and ignite the kindling there.

He's wearing a fucking suit. It's not required that people dress well just for a freshman recital, and it's not like anyone would have stopped him from getting in without it—he didn't have to do it, but he's there in a black suit, thin black tie, pressed white shirt, dress shoes. He looks as good as he does in jeans, as good as he does naked, Shouto's mouth is dry just looking at him, and Bakugou is staring right back—and it's like the first time they ever saw each other, but their positions are reversed. Now Shouto is on display, and Bakugou is there just to see him. Because Shouto told him where to be.

That has to count for something, right?

Behind him, Momo clears her throat delicately. Shouto shakes himself like he's waking from a trance. He's still in front of a room full of people, and they're all still waiting for him to start playing.

He raises his violin and brings his bow up, poised over the instrument. Breathes, and rests his chin against the chinrest. The first notes ring out from the piano keys, and Shouto touches his bow to the strings, and begins.

The first piece he has picked begins very simply; solemnly. Every note plays like it has been written for that moment, the music deliberated over and carefully handpicked, to be played for that audience in the air of that silent and still auditorium.

And it is utterly silent. Some of the notes barely whisper through the space, but from the birth of each new sound to the dying threads they can be heard clear as a bell. Shouto closes his eyes and feels them, as easy as breathing. Even without seeing, he doesn't feel disconnected—he feels like he's reaching out, like he's pleading, with every sob of the strings.

He furrows his brow as he stirs the music faster, climbing and falling and stretching out from lilting jumps into long luxurious phrases that trickle off his fingertips as the piece starts to show a hint of the fire to come. It starts to get playfully tricky here, a little cheeky as it rises into the upper registers before dropping back down—he thrums a low note from the depths of the violin's sound, and the piano quavers, and together they both burst forth.

Shouto can't help but sway with this new rhythm, the true soul of the piece, hypnotizing, bow drawing over the strings in razor sharp motions as the song cuts forth, alluring and dangerous as it is sweet. Now his fingers truly get to dance, flying over the strings, high to low and back. It's dizzying, he feels giddy with exhilaration. He has had to practice his breathing for this piece rigorously and now it pays off, as ingrained in him as the written music, breathe in on this measure, out on this one, lest he get lightheaded.