He wasn't doing well by the morning. I could tell he'd been awake for a long time after I'd fallen asleep. I discovered him with headphones in, songs flowing through. I gently removed these, turning off the MP3 player. Rolling him onto his side, I studied his tired face. He wasn't speaking, but his face was puffy and pale.

He'd been crying, and for a while. When he saw me, he buried his face into my chest, near my shoulder. Like this, I held him. He didn't ask for anything, or make any noises. He was spent, and seemed to have been for a while. Silently, my hand went up and down his back, trying to soothe him. Something had come out of him during the night, and I hadn't been there.

Slowly, he began to speak. Muffled, but he always spoke so carefully, enunciating clearly, that I could make it out.

"I don't know how to say it," he said, his voice breathy and numb.

"Say what?" I asked, holding him closer. My lips went to the top of his head, staying there. The warmth of his hair was comforting me.

"How useless I am."

"What, useless? Never." I shook my head, loving him.

"No, I am. Listening to these songs Nobu loves... I listened all night. He's self sufficient. He can make his own career. He did, before we met him. He has a whole world that he can create, all by himself. Masaki has a similar world. He could join any metal band and make it. He's so talented. And Yami... I know he can be hard to work with, but if he finds people who understand him, he could be something, too. And Shizue? She's been in the classical realm for ten years. She's an excellent musician in her own right. But I need all of this support. What use am I to them? I drag them down. That's all I am. Some kind of lead weight."

"Sana-a, where is this coming from?" I rubbed his back again, trying to understand. Where had his thoughts come from? All of this, from listening to music?

"I've felt it for a long time. From the day our old bassist, Tadashi left our band. He said that I'd only drag them down, that we'd never be major with me as the vocalist of our band. I realized that's true. I'm not the vocalist of the band anymore, and we're finally going major. He was right."

I shook my head again. "You're still the vocalist of Lyra. You and I are co-vocalists. There's a difference. I want to sing with you. We made this decision together. He's completely wrong. Where is he now, huh? Is he self sufficient?"

He shrugged a little, in my arms. "I have no idea where he is. He cut ties with us. Moved away. I guess it's not important where he is."

"Yeah. And if it's not important where he is, then his opinion isn't important, either." A new sniffle met my ears, and I hugged him tighter, pressing my cheek to his head now, knowing he needed me. I continued on, hoping he was listening, taking it in. "I want to sing with you. We're going to sing together. Everyone in Lyra wants you to sing. That won't change. If you feel useless, I'll remind you how useful you are."

"Okay." A small squeak of a voice, congested in tears.

"I love you."

He made a jumping breath, collapsing into his tears. "I love you, too."

I rubbed his back for a while, feeling his soft skin under the t-shirt of mine that he was wearing. Feeling how skinny he is, how vulnerable. His tears quieted, but he still needed comfort. How long had he cried about this, when I'd been asleep? It made me not want to sleep anymore. I wanted to protect him from his own thoughts, but how would I do that?

As we laid together, it brought on new thoughts. Impossible ones. Thinking about who I was back then, when their bassist had left. I'd heard the story, of course. A big drunken retelling at an izakaya, beer glasses being thrust in the air, recalling Tadashi and how much of an asshole he became. Nobu in particular was mad about it, saying that Tadashi used to play wrongly on purpose due to falling out of love with their band. Trying to make them sound awful, but he'd only made himself look like the fool. It had been a cold night, us wrapped in our puffy jackets and scarves, late December, trying to take me out to make me feel better. We'd bonded, and it was just one of the stories that I'd heard about the band back in the old days.

But those old days. I tried to recall how I'd been over ten years ago now. It had been a hectic life. Running around, vans, vans, vans. Endless vehicles taking me places, rushing me to the next sale. Make more money, go over here, do this, do that, don't rest. If I did it now, I'd never be able to do it. My middle aged bones shuddered at the thought. Sometimes, someone from the taxi company would get confused and drop me off at the wrong location, so I'd have to run to where I was headed. It was chaos.

If I had known Sana back then? As much as I wanted to protect him, I don't know if I could have. I was working too hard. I closed my eyes. Trying to imagine it. These stories I knew now. Trying to fill in gaps. It was difficult to imagine, with this limited information.

Knowing he was so much more healthy back then. Able to eat practically anything, except for sugary foods. Able to drink beer. It was so hard to think about. But, I knew solidly, if I had known him, and their bassist Tadashi had said something like that about him? I'd have tracked that man down and went to his home, and kicked his ass. Book, open and shut. Case closed.

Sana, useless? Never. The glowing ways his friends described him. How much he meant to them. I heard every word. Those nights out with them in December as we ate comfort foods, those days with them in the hospital. He'd touched their lives in ways he might never know. Their intense bonds with him, needing to show him their support. Nobu was the one who'd taught me how to wash him as he laid in bed. The careful and deeply respectful ways he'd touched his friend, dearly lifting his arm and washing in gentle circling motions. Using another cloth to wash his face with just his finger underneath, getting every crevice from the curve of his nose to the inside corners of his eyes. That dear love.

Unfortunately, Sana didn't get to see or hear these things. He'd been in a medically induced coma for a while, and then asleep for an even longer while. He wasn't really "with" us until the very end. A little after Christmas, he'd become more alert. We'd given him some small gifts, and he was grateful for these. He was a little confused, because he'd lost so much time. He could barely hold what we'd given him, but they'd had endless patience. You don't give someone that much devotion if you don't love them, if they don't mean something intensely to you.

They were his family. Without a doubt, they were all his family. It wasn't just Yami and Sawai-san. Sometimes, family is chosen. This was a family that had chosen him. They wouldn't abandon him, and they certainly wouldn't think he was useless. The way Masaki in particular had begged me when we were alone to bring Lyra back together when we'd met at my parents' house that time. He needed Lyra just as much as Sana did. His desperate face. He knew they were a family, that they needed each other. They all needed each other.

Now we had succeeded. Lyra was back together, and they weren't going anywhere. There were still some hard feelings between them, but that's what all families have. There's always a history there, but they get through it. Some bonds are stronger than blood. Love is stronger than blood.

I kissed his head, and wrapped my arms around him anew, taking him slightly on top of myself. He came along, easy to bring with me. His face ended up against my neck, in his favorite place. I felt the wetness here, his still moving tears.

My hands traveled up his back, feeling every bit. They popped out of his shirt, and went to his face. They found his cheeks, and brought it up to see me. Oh, the sad sight. Oh, I wanted to hold him and never let him go.

His face was red and even more puffed up, his eyes bloodshot and flowing with tears. His cheeks were completely wet. He was maybe thinking of something new and horrible, and I had to stop it. Was he working himself up? Another terrifying thought. Was he making himself ill? I had to protect him.

"You are not useless. Everyone loves you. You have to believe it. They're your family. Sure, they could go out and do their own thing, but are they? No."

He opened his mouth to say something, but I couldn't let him. I had to tell him the truth.

I quickly went on. "They chose you." Something in his body tensed up like a wave. I nodded, reiterating my meaning. "They chose you. Remember that. I chose you, too. What did you say about me? That I had a big career, so glamorous? Well, I chose you. I think you have more meaning than all of that. Your friends could go out and have big careers, too. But, they're choosing to make something beautiful with you."

Unexpectedly, he started shaking his head, collapsing in tears again. More wetness invading his downy cheeks.

I shook my head, too. Copying him. "Don't listen to the sad things. Listen to my words. We chose you, and we're going to make something beautiful together. Something that none of us could have ever dreamed of. Something even bigger than all of what we could have made individually combined. You are a part of that dream. You'll see. Whatever you can contribute, we're going to do it all, and we're going to be so happy. We'll work hard, as hard as we can work. We'll each do our part. You have a part in this. Don't listen to what Tadashi said in the past. He isn't here anymore, is he? He gave up. But, you didn't. You're still going. We're all still going. We're going to do something amazing, just you wait."

Before he could say a word to the negative, I drew him in with my hands. His lips landed on mine, and he was sniffling and kissing me, unable to resist. I didn't care that he was all wet. I didn't care that his nose was full of drained tears. My fingers went through his hair, encountering tangles from the night. They went down to the back of his neck, tickling him there, and settled on his shoulder blades, feeling my old t-shirt once again. He had no idea, and maybe couldn't accept it, but I wouldn't change him for all the opportunities and money in the world. I don't think any of his friends would. He had no idea how much he touched their lives, and that needed to change.

As we kissed, and intensified our love, it made me think of something I hadn't considered. As my fingers traveled up to his hair again, holding him in this tender way, I realized that maybe this was another part of his personality in play, an unexpected one in all of this.

Maybe this was his stubbornness, unwilling to accept the truth. I tickled down his back again, moving down to his hips and holding them, pressing them to me. Well, if it was stubbornness, I'd love that stubbornness away, and we'd start fresh. I kissed him more and more, needing to show him, at least for now, that he was loved.