Brightly Wound
This was one of the times Miyavi wished he still smoked. Standing outside against the wall just didn’t feel as cool anymore if he didn’t have something dangling from his lips, however unhealthy it had made him and his voice. Now he felt awkward and distant, and there wasn’t a sign of life since he had parked outside the back door of the recording studio; he took another quick glance around at his surroundings and sniffed in a dejected way at the sight of an overturned trash can and a broken water pipe.
But it would’ve all been worth it if the person he was promised to meet with had actually shown up.
He waited five more minutes after the initial five minutes he had already been waiting, and when still nothing happened apart from a door shutting across the other side of the building, his frustration and unease began to outweigh his desire, and he took a few tentative steps back towards his car, stopping and looking back around at the door, as if he knew the approaching irony of it bursting open as soon as he drove away.
And though he was entirely prepared for it, the sound of the door actually bursting open shocked him so thoroughly he jumped backwards against his car, setting off the alarm.
“MIYAVI!!”
The cry was barely heard over the blaring alarm of the frightened car, but the puff of bleached blonde hair was enough to be recognizable. Hitting the lock button on his keys to shut off the howling, Miyavi turned with a maniacal grin towards Maya.
“Maayatan!” he shouted, holding out his arms.
Maya ran up to him, meeting the embrace enthusiastically; it felt slightly odd to Miyavi, hugging someone who actually matched up to his superior height, before he realized it was a sensation he didn’t miss in the slightest.
“Miyavi, you fool, what are you doing in this dirty back alley?” Maya asked, gesturing to their surroundings. Miyavi noticed he was wearing make up, but made no comment.
“Why babe, if you recall, this is where I take my business clients.”
Maya laughed at the serious expression on Miyavi’s face, and gestured him towards the door. “Ah, I do remember. But in all reality, Miyavi, you’re past those dreadful times.” He smirked, leading his friend through the door into a hallway. “Surely you’re permitted to use the front door by now?”
“Oh, dear, Maya. You do know I hate not making an entrance,” he grinned widely when technicians and sound engineers gawked as he passed, clearing wondering what an international star was doing in their studio, and why, why, they muttered amongst themselves, had no one had seen him come in through the main door?
As they walked through the studio, Maya pointed out the different rooms and some of the things he had experienced while they’d been there. Miyavi listened intently for once, actually having missed Maya in the time that he had split as his backup guitarist and formed his own band which, not surprising Miyavi in the slightest, was rising quickly in popularity.
“And this, oh this, my friend, is where I shall be recording the magnificence that is my voice.”
Maya gestured grandly to the studio inside, where Miyavi, peering through the window, could see the soundboard and the recording room beyond it, the microphone in place.
“Seems rather…dark,” Miyavi commented conversationally, squinting into the abandoned room. “Not quite your style.”
“Oh, I’m sure Aiji wouldn’t have a problem doing something a big more themed towards the comfort zone he used to have. Although he has been coping quite well with the new coloured uniforms.”
Miyavi straightened up. “Where is the little princess anyway? How come I'm not being dragged around by both members?” he said, glancing and peering down the hallway. A girl halfway down the corridor seemed to mistake his searching for an interest in her and waved merrily at him with a slightly shaking hand. Miyavi, suddenly giving her notice, immediately forgot his earlier interest in Aiji’s whereabouts and grinned back at her, waving erratically.
“Now now,” Maya chastised, steering them down a separate hallway and away from Miyavi’s newfound prey. “You’ve been here four minutes. Leave the girls alone while you’re with me… or at least until I take you out drinking tonight.”
"Drinks?" he asked, perking up again, "Can we go now?"
Maya gave him a feigned shocked look, while the undertone in his voice belied how predictable Miyavi's response really was. "It's only four o'clock, you know."
Before Miyavi had time to answer, they arrived at what seemed to be a sort of lobby, and Maya gave a small shriek and bounded off in the direction of one of the couches, where a figure with fading purple-streaked hair was reading a pamplet innocently.
The figure looked up in just enough time to yell in terror as Maya launched himself onto the couch on top of him, knocking him onto his back and smothering him entirely. When Miyavi had made his way over the two were still a pile of limbs, Maya relaxing calmly on the couch while the figure beneath him struggled valiantly to extricate himself from Maya’s dead weight.
“Oh hello,” Maya greeted Miyavi conversationally, propping his head up on his arm while simultaneously digging his elbow into the wriggling mass of black underneath him. A loud “Ow!” followed by a strange “Oopmph!”ing noise was the person’s response, but Maya ignored him, and eventually the figure gave up and quit moving.
Maya cocked his head to the side and addressed him, “Are you submitting?”
When there was no answer Miyavi knelt down beside them, poking at a stray arm protruding from underneath Maya’s chest. “Perhaps you killed him?”
“Nah,” Maya stretched, removing himself and sitting by the figure’s legs. “Aiji’s unkillable. Did I mention that? He’s like a goddess only he trips a lot more.”
A muffled protest that sounded oddly like “foddess?!” before Aiji seemed to realize he was allowed to breathe properly again and picked his head up.
“Have you ever considered losing wei-- oh.” He had finally spotted Miyavi, and the mildly playful expression on his face vanished, only to be replaced by one that was entirely unreadable. “Hello.”
“Hi!” Miyavi replied cheerfully, still crouched on the ground. “Miyavi,” he unnecessarily introduced himself, holding out a hand.
“Yeah…” Aiji answered, reaching out to take it but letting go rather quickly. “Yeah I know. Maya’s told me a lot about you.”
Miyavi gave him a curious look, instinctively catching the tone in Aiji’s voice, and the unspoken words behind his greeting. Maya, however, apparently noticed nothing and clapped Miyavi on the back.
“I invited Miyavi-kun to stay for a few days while we record!” he said happily to Aiji, who returned the smile faintly. “He has a break in touring and I figured that a familiar face could get me back into the mood for recording.”
The smile vanished on Aiji’s face. “You’re not in the mood now?”
Miyavi turned away so Aiji wouldn’t see his smirk. The patheticness in his voice and the unintentional innuendo was entirely too much for him to handle, so he was thankful when Maya replied right away.
“Well, yeah, but it’s more fun with more people, right?” Maya replied. “Oh come on, Aiji,” he whined, Aiji showing no delight at the thought of having Miyavi here while they recorded. “It’s not like he’s going to bother anyone.”
Miyavi couldn’t help but secretly be on Aiji’s side as the quiet guitarist gestured around pointedly, where several staff members were peeking behind doors to get a glimpse of their new guest.
Maya ignored his reply, which Miyavi soon realized he was fond of doing, and pulled agitatingly at Aiji’s sleeve.
“Aiji… let’s go out for drinks.”
Aiji brushed him off, but Maya was unfazed and grabbed the fabric yet again. “C’mon, Aiji. I’ll buy.”
Aiji brushed him off again, and the process started again until Aiji finally acquiesced, narrowing his eyes as Maya squealed and grabbed Miyavi’s hands, stating that they had a hotel room set up in the same hall as him and Aiji, and refused to listen to Miyavi’s protests that he had already checked into a hotel.
After several blurry minutes and confusing arguments involving time, clothes, location, clothes, hidden papparazi, clothes, and several other inside conversations that Miyavi didn’t entirely understand, he was accompanying Maya to his hotel room so the blonde could shower and change before going out.
As they headed towards the back door and Miyavi’s car, Miyavi looked back curiously, but Aiji had already disappeared to his own transportation, leaving Miyavi to decipher that strange and unwelcome look he had recieced from the guitarist that seemed not only surprised, but upset by his arrival.
---
Next chapter
AN: The marvelous kiri_ka wrote an accompanying piece to this chapter written entirely in Aiji's perspective, which can be found here at her writing journal, sadisticfiction
But it would’ve all been worth it if the person he was promised to meet with had actually shown up.
He waited five more minutes after the initial five minutes he had already been waiting, and when still nothing happened apart from a door shutting across the other side of the building, his frustration and unease began to outweigh his desire, and he took a few tentative steps back towards his car, stopping and looking back around at the door, as if he knew the approaching irony of it bursting open as soon as he drove away.
And though he was entirely prepared for it, the sound of the door actually bursting open shocked him so thoroughly he jumped backwards against his car, setting off the alarm.
“MIYAVI!!”
The cry was barely heard over the blaring alarm of the frightened car, but the puff of bleached blonde hair was enough to be recognizable. Hitting the lock button on his keys to shut off the howling, Miyavi turned with a maniacal grin towards Maya.
“Maayatan!” he shouted, holding out his arms.
Maya ran up to him, meeting the embrace enthusiastically; it felt slightly odd to Miyavi, hugging someone who actually matched up to his superior height, before he realized it was a sensation he didn’t miss in the slightest.
“Miyavi, you fool, what are you doing in this dirty back alley?” Maya asked, gesturing to their surroundings. Miyavi noticed he was wearing make up, but made no comment.
“Why babe, if you recall, this is where I take my business clients.”
Maya laughed at the serious expression on Miyavi’s face, and gestured him towards the door. “Ah, I do remember. But in all reality, Miyavi, you’re past those dreadful times.” He smirked, leading his friend through the door into a hallway. “Surely you’re permitted to use the front door by now?”
“Oh, dear, Maya. You do know I hate not making an entrance,” he grinned widely when technicians and sound engineers gawked as he passed, clearing wondering what an international star was doing in their studio, and why, why, they muttered amongst themselves, had no one had seen him come in through the main door?
As they walked through the studio, Maya pointed out the different rooms and some of the things he had experienced while they’d been there. Miyavi listened intently for once, actually having missed Maya in the time that he had split as his backup guitarist and formed his own band which, not surprising Miyavi in the slightest, was rising quickly in popularity.
“And this, oh this, my friend, is where I shall be recording the magnificence that is my voice.”
Maya gestured grandly to the studio inside, where Miyavi, peering through the window, could see the soundboard and the recording room beyond it, the microphone in place.
“Seems rather…dark,” Miyavi commented conversationally, squinting into the abandoned room. “Not quite your style.”
“Oh, I’m sure Aiji wouldn’t have a problem doing something a big more themed towards the comfort zone he used to have. Although he has been coping quite well with the new coloured uniforms.”
Miyavi straightened up. “Where is the little princess anyway? How come I'm not being dragged around by both members?” he said, glancing and peering down the hallway. A girl halfway down the corridor seemed to mistake his searching for an interest in her and waved merrily at him with a slightly shaking hand. Miyavi, suddenly giving her notice, immediately forgot his earlier interest in Aiji’s whereabouts and grinned back at her, waving erratically.
“Now now,” Maya chastised, steering them down a separate hallway and away from Miyavi’s newfound prey. “You’ve been here four minutes. Leave the girls alone while you’re with me… or at least until I take you out drinking tonight.”
"Drinks?" he asked, perking up again, "Can we go now?"
Maya gave him a feigned shocked look, while the undertone in his voice belied how predictable Miyavi's response really was. "It's only four o'clock, you know."
Before Miyavi had time to answer, they arrived at what seemed to be a sort of lobby, and Maya gave a small shriek and bounded off in the direction of one of the couches, where a figure with fading purple-streaked hair was reading a pamplet innocently.
The figure looked up in just enough time to yell in terror as Maya launched himself onto the couch on top of him, knocking him onto his back and smothering him entirely. When Miyavi had made his way over the two were still a pile of limbs, Maya relaxing calmly on the couch while the figure beneath him struggled valiantly to extricate himself from Maya’s dead weight.
“Oh hello,” Maya greeted Miyavi conversationally, propping his head up on his arm while simultaneously digging his elbow into the wriggling mass of black underneath him. A loud “Ow!” followed by a strange “Oopmph!”ing noise was the person’s response, but Maya ignored him, and eventually the figure gave up and quit moving.
Maya cocked his head to the side and addressed him, “Are you submitting?”
When there was no answer Miyavi knelt down beside them, poking at a stray arm protruding from underneath Maya’s chest. “Perhaps you killed him?”
“Nah,” Maya stretched, removing himself and sitting by the figure’s legs. “Aiji’s unkillable. Did I mention that? He’s like a goddess only he trips a lot more.”
A muffled protest that sounded oddly like “foddess?!” before Aiji seemed to realize he was allowed to breathe properly again and picked his head up.
“Have you ever considered losing wei-- oh.” He had finally spotted Miyavi, and the mildly playful expression on his face vanished, only to be replaced by one that was entirely unreadable. “Hello.”
“Hi!” Miyavi replied cheerfully, still crouched on the ground. “Miyavi,” he unnecessarily introduced himself, holding out a hand.
“Yeah…” Aiji answered, reaching out to take it but letting go rather quickly. “Yeah I know. Maya’s told me a lot about you.”
Miyavi gave him a curious look, instinctively catching the tone in Aiji’s voice, and the unspoken words behind his greeting. Maya, however, apparently noticed nothing and clapped Miyavi on the back.
“I invited Miyavi-kun to stay for a few days while we record!” he said happily to Aiji, who returned the smile faintly. “He has a break in touring and I figured that a familiar face could get me back into the mood for recording.”
The smile vanished on Aiji’s face. “You’re not in the mood now?”
Miyavi turned away so Aiji wouldn’t see his smirk. The patheticness in his voice and the unintentional innuendo was entirely too much for him to handle, so he was thankful when Maya replied right away.
“Well, yeah, but it’s more fun with more people, right?” Maya replied. “Oh come on, Aiji,” he whined, Aiji showing no delight at the thought of having Miyavi here while they recorded. “It’s not like he’s going to bother anyone.”
Miyavi couldn’t help but secretly be on Aiji’s side as the quiet guitarist gestured around pointedly, where several staff members were peeking behind doors to get a glimpse of their new guest.
Maya ignored his reply, which Miyavi soon realized he was fond of doing, and pulled agitatingly at Aiji’s sleeve.
“Aiji… let’s go out for drinks.”
Aiji brushed him off, but Maya was unfazed and grabbed the fabric yet again. “C’mon, Aiji. I’ll buy.”
Aiji brushed him off again, and the process started again until Aiji finally acquiesced, narrowing his eyes as Maya squealed and grabbed Miyavi’s hands, stating that they had a hotel room set up in the same hall as him and Aiji, and refused to listen to Miyavi’s protests that he had already checked into a hotel.
After several blurry minutes and confusing arguments involving time, clothes, location, clothes, hidden papparazi, clothes, and several other inside conversations that Miyavi didn’t entirely understand, he was accompanying Maya to his hotel room so the blonde could shower and change before going out.
As they headed towards the back door and Miyavi’s car, Miyavi looked back curiously, but Aiji had already disappeared to his own transportation, leaving Miyavi to decipher that strange and unwelcome look he had recieced from the guitarist that seemed not only surprised, but upset by his arrival.
---
Next chapter
AN: The marvelous kiri_ka wrote an accompanying piece to this chapter written entirely in Aiji's perspective, which can be found here at her writing journal, sadisticfiction