Heart Strings

Two

Nagi hadn't played the Mikage violin. He'd brought it home, not seeing much choice in the matter, but he hadn't even as much as lifted the lid of the case. Though it was doing nothing besides sitting in the corner of his small apartment, taunting him, he wondered if he'd ever known a bigger pain in his entire life.

It's not like he'd asked for the thing. He'd never asked for anything concerning music. He'd never asked for it to come so easy for him and he'd never asked to have this talent that everyone else seemed so awestruck by. More than once, someone had commented that he owed it to the universe to do something with music, that doing nothing would be such a shame, that it was so wildly unfair how easy he took to it. He thought it was unfair too. He would have happily given it to someone else and mourned nothing.

Nagi had never felt guilty about it either. With everyone else who'd ever tried to push him towards music, his friends or teachers or otherwise, he'd thought nothing of brushing them and their comments and efforts off. But he felt a little guilty about it now. Probably because there was a price tag that made it feel like there were strings attached.

Sell it, then.

Reo had said that so effortlessly, but it still didn't really feel like an option.

On the other hand, the other option, of calling the number on the card and agreeing to play in this orchestra, whatever it was, nearly made Nagi wince with how much effort he knew would be required. He hadn't looked into the Mikage Orchestra, though he'd thought about it and meant to get around to it eventually, but if some conductor bearing the same last name could throw money around like that without blinking an eye, it would undoubtedly be a massive pain in the ass.

The only option, as far as Nagi saw it, was to call this Reo guy and somehow convince him to take the violin back and give it someone else. Surely he had a bunch of people he could give the thing to that would appreciate it more than he did. Then, and only then, he could clean his hands of the whole thing and keep going on as he had been.

It took a little while of convincing, but eventually, Nagi found himself lying on the couch, punching the numbers into his cell phone, figuring it'd be best to just get the whole thing over with. He listened to the rings, wondering what he was going to say. Maybe it would have been better to plan that out beforehand, he realized, but it was too late now. Right as he thought about hanging up, the ringing stopped.

"Mikage Reo."

Oh, jeez. He even answered the phone like a rich goon, Nagi thought. Nagi heard voices in the background too. Some type of event or business meeting, Nagi could only imagine. He suddenly wished he'd had the sense to hang up sooner.

"Uh," Nagi said. "Hi."

"Nagi?" Reo said.

His voice was immediately becoming less composed and a lot more like he remembered it from the music shop, how it was when he was accusing him of playing the priceless violin to precision. It sounded like he'd been waiting for him to call.

"Yeah," Nagi answered. "If it's not a good time."

"No," Reo said, cutting him off. Then, from further away, he heard Reo say please excuse me, and there was a pause and some shuffling before he sounded close to the phone again. "I've been waiting to hear from you. How are you?"

"Uh," Nagi said again. What a bizarre question from someone he barely knew. "I'm fine. Look, about the violin."

"I'm happy you called, actually," Reo said.

"I can't accept it," Nagi said. "I want to give it back."

"Well," Reo said. "I can't accept that."

"I'm sure there's someone else who could use it," Nagi said.