FANFIC: "When I First: Ch 1: Saw You" (The GazettE- AoixUruha & ReitaxRuki)
Title: When I First: Ch 1: Saw You
Pairing: AoixUruha, ReitaxRuki
Writer: black_prophet (Midsummer_Slave)
Genre: Angst/Drama, Fluff, Smut (Later Ch)
Rating: PG13 (Current)
Warning: Ummm... Graceful Uruha, Badass Reita, NinjaJungleCat Aoi, Vulnerable Ruki, RandomGuysInBlack, Shameless Entertainment provided by Miyavi.
A/N: This fic is dedicated to myeyeswillclose because I blame her for this random idea mutating into a Multi Chapter fic. And she needed another dedication. This chapter is also co-dedicated to that stalker fantasyrocks13 who hasn't begged me to work on this because she knows life is insane, and has instead been waiting patiently since June when I started it.
Disclaimer: THIS IS A FANFICTION. It is a work of Fiction starring real people that I sadly do not own in any way, shape, or form except for CDs, and DVDs and an impressive collection of pictures, as well as a poster that is still not as good as the real thing!! Which should count but doesn't. *SAD FACE* Move on, nothing to see here...
A/N2: Chapters in this story will be dedicated to the senses, with a final Chapter for 'Love'. That is all for now. Enjoy!
Suzuki Akira -or Reita, to most- had no real idea why he’d decided to attend this excessively colorful gathering. The only way he would have agreed was with good reason, a really, really good reason. And he knew there had been a reason he agreed. But for the life of him, as his eyes swept over the crowd, he couldn’t remember the damn thing.
Granted this gathering was all about music, so there was a reason for him to be interested… But still! It certainly didn’t qualify as a ‘big’ enough reason to explain why he was out in this, insanity. When he could have been home, playing his bass and working on songs? When he could have been at a quieter gathering with some of his friends, rather than allowing himself to be thrust into a crowd?
You’ve fucking lost your mind, Suzuki. He thought venomously as he tried to twist through the crowd. The crush of people in the club was stifling, more than enough to make someone as unsociable as him uncomfortable. Add to that the fact that his best friend had been seduced away by some enigmatic potential-lover, and the bassist was fit to be tied.
He didn’t like to be surrounded by strangers, he didn’t like to be left alone amongst such people, and he didn’t want them touching him. Thanks to Uruha’s - otherwise known as Takashima Kouyou, his childhood friend- unexpected departure, he was saddled with all three unpleasant outcomes. At once. Great, just great. At least with the chatty, enthusiastic presence of Kouyou at his side, he would have been somewhat distracted from all the people.
But no. The honey-blond had caught sight of someone or another worth enticing to his bed, and he was off like a shot. Akira would be hard pressed to guess how long Kouyou had kept his promise to be ‘right there, all night’, but if he had to hazard a guess it wasn’t more than ten minutes.
That included the drive to get to this club in the first place.
“You are so fucking dead when I catch you, Kou.” The blond muttered under his breath, eyes slitting behind flat-ironed and carefully styled bangs. Between them and the scrap of fabric he’d tied across his cheekbones and nose, much of his face was hidden. Just the way he wanted it.
He was tall and leanly muscled, twisting through the club dressed in shades of black and white like the interweaving strands of his blond and black hair. Assorted bracelets and bands -again in shades of black and white- wound around his wrists, and more simple black bands curling around his arms just above his elbows. They served no real purpose, he just liked the look. The sleeveless shirt flaunted his arms, clinging to his torso and catching at his hip. It was there that black jeans took over, slightly baggy and embellished with studs and the occasional fray of white. Twin belts curled around his waist, one black and the other white. Both bore studs, metal that gleamed dull-silver in the flashing light just like the ones at his wrists and the simple silver chain that sat close around his neck.
Winding his way through the crowd, he very firmly ignored the appreciative looks he was getting from both genders. If he were in a better mood, he might have stopped long enough to flirt and try and catch a few phone numbers, but at the moment he was just pissed. A drink was definitely in order, and then maybe a few minutes in a corner away from the crush of people until he could get over planning his revenge on the now-absent honey-blond.
Hair of every different color -both natural and not- gleamed under the flashing lights of various hues. Styles were no less varied, suiting the various costumes that they accompanied on all matter of people. Tall and short, male and female, goth and rocker. Just about everyone you’d care to look for in such a place, and they were all drinking and having a good time.
One of the more colorful attendees was on the stage at the moment, playfully kissing his guitarist before returning to the lyrics of their song. His hair was short and styled in every different direction, and was colored in no less than six shades, maybe more. He had piercings and tattoos and a stage-presence that was anything but ignorable.
Still, Akira shot him little more than a glance and then threaded his way through the crowd, dead set on his two goals. The second came more readily than the first, a narrow hallway offering him a chance away from the crowd. Pausing, he briefly toyed with the idea of finding the bar first, but that seemed to be through the sea of people, and he quickly decided against it.
“Just get away from everyone for awhile.” He muttered to himself, sliding his hands into his pockets and slipping into the unguarded hallway. The rest he’d fix later, and then he’d find Kouyou. There was no telling if they’d still be friends by that point.
For the moment, he’d settle for being alone, so he paced down the hall. The entrance to the hall was narrow, a sly twist of a thing that led to a hall of decent width once you got past the odd blocky-s-shaped entrance. Immediate doors offered entrance to the bathrooms, which were ignored as he paced along down the dimly lit corridor.
Idle curiosity had taken hold, and with the wall between him and the rest of the building, the music was slightly muffled and the sound of the crowd diminished. The croon of the guitars and bass hummed through the floor and walls, but that was a sound Akira was more than comfortable with. He loved music, loved the feel of the energy and life that sang through the bass when he plugged it in and ran a hand over the strings.
Too bad their last band had fractured, yet again. Now, as always, it was back to two. Him and Kouyou, bassist and guitarist; once again looking for another shot at something bigger than the occasional gig at a club. Whether they’d find it or not, he wasn’t really sure anymore, but either way they needed more people. This little worship collection was as good a place as any, a lot of bands and musicians gathering together in one place to talk and share their talents.
“We’ll go and see if we can find what we need.” Kouyou had coaxed and begged and threatened, and finally Akira had given in.
It wasn’t exactly hard to say ‘no’ to the honey-eyed male who’d fashioned himself into a vixen, it was just hard to make that ‘no’ stay. Immune to Kouyou’s looks, flattery, and charm, Akira still couldn’t quite work past the flat out begging, threatening, or occasional blackmailing. When Kou had you, he kept you, and he’d had Akira’s number for a long time. Longer than the bassist cared to remember, most days.
Being friends with Kouyou since grade school made you feel fucking old most days. He’d been manipulating the world to his liking even then. And you know what they said about practice. Yeah. Kouyou had done nothing but get better with age. Rather like the alcohol he was so fond of, actually. Life was just funny like that, sometimes.
It probably would have been annoying as hell, if they weren’t such good friends. Since they were, it was just part of things. Kou’s loyalty for Akira was just as unwavering as Akira’s friendship. There was no reason for that to change. Even if the honey-blond had bailed on him to chase tail, if Kouyou needed help, Akira would be there in a second. For the moment, Kou was in the heart of the fray -just like he wanted it- and Akira was looking for a corner to catch some peace.
Further down, the hallway was lined with doors. Supply closets and access to the electric box, various service corridors and even backstage access. Other doors indicated dressing rooms and the like. At the end of the hall was another open doorway, a sharp turn that led to a largely empty storage room, a few crates stacked in the far corner.
The crates weren’t the reason Suzuki Akira paused in the doorway, surprise flashing over his face and then anger making his eyes darken. Aside from the crates, the room was occupied by four figures. Three of which were grouped around the fourth, who had his back to the wall as he watched them with all the wariness of a cornered animal. Not a friendly conversation, by the look of things.
Strangely enough, the entire scene was fixed with a startling clarity. Low light came from the domes affixed to the ceiling, half-shadowing the room even as they bled yellow light over bare concrete walls and darkly tiled floors. The room itself was old and unapologetic, storage and nothing more. If he had to guess, Akira would have said the cornered male was seeking some solitude just like him. He couldn’t really guess why the three males had followed the more delicate back here, but they were like jackals circling something wounded.
Black hair and dark clothing made one as nondescript as the next. There was nothing extraordinary or memorable about them, and if they were to walk back into the party in the main room of the club, you’d probably never be able to pick them out. At least, not unless you knew them. There as a brutal ‘sameness’ to them that spoke of a gang, just as their hunting in a group did, but no proudly displayed ‘colors’ or identifying traits of any kind.
Akira didn’t waste too much time on them, seeing all he’d needed to. None of them had weapons, and they were swaggering because the numbers were in their favor, not necessarily because they were all that badass. And considering that it took three of them to herd the smaller male into a corner, the opposite result seemed likely. None of them seemed to notice his arrival, and he ventured a guess that if he made enough of an ‘entrance’, they wouldn’t stick around.
Which only left their prey.
Even without analyzing the stranger, Akira knew he’d help. If there was something he couldn’t stand, it was someone stronger taking out their rage -or whatever- on someone weaker. Or something, for that matter. In his eyes, animal-abuse was just as callous and unforgivable.
Though the smaller male wasn’t exactly weak, three-to-one odds was more than enough to make the bassist growl. That was pure cowardice, they wanted to scare and hurt him, so they intended to attack in force. It was probably luck that they’d caught him back here, out of sight and hearing with the musicians and crowd in the next room. They’d revel in a little violence, and then strut off, smug with their superior strength.
It was hard not to crack his knuckles and jump in right there. But he wasn’t done with his assessment of the situation, and for the moment they weren’t doing anything more than shooting their mouths off. The situation would keep a minute or two longer, enough for him to see everything.
The pale-skinned figure they’d cornered had somehow wound up in a stray pool of light while his enemies were shrouded in the shadows. Weak yellow light gleamed in hair that was striped black and a rich purple, flat-ironed and styled into wisp-like spikes that flared out in a way that bespoke of attitude and mischief. Dark makeup surrounded his eyes in a way that flaunted and hid the shape, the overall affect being intriguing and attractive. In contrast to the dark make-up, his eyes gleamed an eerie pale gray; contacts.
More makeup stretched down his neck in inviting lines, painted from his jaw down his throat and ending in points. His bangs were flat-ironed down over his right eye and most of that cheek, varying lengths offering a flash of the pale skin of his cheek, a sliver of the black makeup around his eyes, part of his nose, and most of his left eye before longer strands took over again. Black lipstick marked a perfect mouth, though the lips drew back in a harsh white snarl as he faced the trio, not yet realizing he had backup.
In spite of being small, he obviously wasn’t lacking in courage. Hands fisted in black gloves, a silver chain bracelet gleaming around one wrist and a scattering of rings glinting in the low light. His jacket was purple and satiny, catching and releasing the light in a subtly inviting way as he shifted, shadows gliding over the fabric.
It was strange the depth of detail and clarity he found as he watched the three brag about their prowess, and the solitary figure snap back that they weren’t as clever as they thought they were. Reita had no reason to take in each minute detail, but for some reason it imprinted on his brain. One almost-delicate male, stylishly graceful as he skirted away from a few mock lunges, against three common-coated human hyenas.
And that was the first time Suzuki Akira honestly saw Matsumoto Takanori.
“Doesn’t look like fair odds to me.” Reita rumbled with a sinister growl, a smile curving over his lips and filling his amber eyes. “This a private party, or can anyone play?”
“New boyfriend, Shorty?” The lanky male to the farthest right sneered, unimpressed by Reita’s appearance though his fellows were shifting nervously.
Well, maybe they knew of him, though their ‘leader’ sure as hell didn’t. Reita let his smile spread, though it twisted into an almost-snarl as he gave another low growl and stepped further into the room. Slowly approaching the dancing light, he momentarily let his eyes slide from the three figures to their cornered opponent.
Ghost-gray eyes fixed on him with surprise, perfect lips parted in surprise. The mocking question made him glance back to his enemies, then Reita again, gestures curt and half-hidden behind his bangs.
Reita only saw it because he was looking, and for some reason the lie came easily. “Don’t think I gave you permission to give him pet-names. And it’s pretty well known I don’t share well.”
He’d dragged a drunken Kouyou away from many a potential boyfriend in his time. It had been long-ago added to his public persona, and he’d never bothered to correct it. He had plenty of girls interested in him when he was looking, but then, so did Kouyou. Personally, Reita wondered how their egos could take it, being in a relationship with someone prettier than they were.
But that was a debate for a different time.
“They were just leaving, Akira.” The delicate male spoke at last, his knowledge of the noseband-wearing bassist obviously a little better than that of the three who surrounded him. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“Doesn’t look like a misunderstanding, baby.” Reita growled, stepping left slightly as one of the three turned to survey him, flexing the muscles in his arms.
“Suzuki Akira.” The male closest to him suddenly squeaked, and Reita didn’t bother to hide the smirk as one brow lifted. “You’re Suzuki Akira?”
“That’s me.” He purred. “I don’t do autographs, at least, not with a pen. I’m partial to broken bones, to be honest.”
“No trouble!” The male squeaked again, skittering away from his prey as Reita theatrically cracked his knuckles. “Like he said, it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Aya, what’s wrong with you?” The first hissed, visibly agitated as the second male began responding to the other’s panic over Reita’s identity.
“Not looking for trouble.” Aya muttered and skittered away from Reita as he took a threatening step closer. “Sorry man, sorry.”
The ‘Shorty’ arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth for all that he still had one threatening presence and the possibility of a second keeping his back to the wall. Reita’s smirk returned at that faint smile, posture still bowed up as he watched ‘Aya’ back slowly toward the door.
“Forget this, Kang, I’m out.” He muttered.
“Smart.” Purred another voice from the doorway, the tone a rumbling threat like the purr of a jaguar. Sure it was silken-soft and crooning, but you knew whoever made the noise could maul you in a moment. “Run along, Aya.”
“Yuu?” Now the first male looked nervous, and his second took rapid steps back to his side, their backs to a crate.
“You aren’t allowed to call me that.” ‘Yuu’ purred as he stepped into the room and Aya bolted past him. “It’s Aoi. Don’t pretend you know me any more intimately than the occasional ass-kicking I give you. Certainly not enough for a first-name basis, not on your side, anyway.”
Reita let the smirk fade in favor of a faintly impressed mask. Shiroyama Yuu was known to him, if only because Kouyou privately swooned over his guitar skills. And when Kou swooned, he practically foamed. Two steps away from going right into heat, not that Reita would ever tell him so.
At least not without severe provocation on Kouyou’s part.
The last Reita heard from the honey-blond he called best friend, the black-haired guitarist had gotten into a fight with his band mates. Apparently not the first time -and probably not the last- it resulted in Shiroyama and the drummer leaving the band. Word was the fight was even at the drummer’s behest, though no one seemed inclined to believe that when the legacy of Yuu’s temper made so convenient a storyline.
What had been the drummer’s name again? Ruki. His stage name was Ruki, Akira recalled in a moment. That must be ‘shorty’ -or as Reita had called him, “baby”- who was still trapped against the wall.
“I know you’re not good at counting.” Ruki purred from his place at the wall, a devilish glint marking his eye and the curve of his mouth matching it. “But you’re outnumbered now, Hanzo. You might want to slink back to your gutter, while you can still walk.”
Reita growled softly, cracking his wrist with an exaggerated twist of his arm and taking an eager step toward the pair as they skittered sideways. “I don’t like that idea, what if they feel like doing something stupid next week?”
“They’ll find someone else to try it on, won’t they?” Shiroyama Yuu crooned, pacing further into the room. His outfit was shades of black, a clinging t-shirt over low-riding jeans. The rolling glide of his walk was marked by the click of boots and the chime of a wallet chain from hip to back pocket, other decorative chains echoing it, the fabric sighing.
It seemed strange to Akira how suddenly he could hear the soft chime of the silver, when they’d made no noise until Yuu stepped into the light. Did he have some sort of knack for moving silently, in spite of whatever clothes he chose to wear? He let his eyes slide up to meet a raging black-on-black gaze, stiffening slightly at the mute distrust in those dark portals. Challenge and hunger gleamed there also, but it wasn’t the flattering kind of hunger.
’Rather the kind that a big cat reveals to you through the bars of his cage…’ Akira admitted silently to himself. The look that says “If there weren’t bars between us, you’d be lunch right now.”, as they stalk toward you.
And you stand there because there are bars, so you are safe… But in the back of your head you wonder if you’d be able to move anyway. Sometimes a look like that can catch you, make you freeze, and you’ll stand there until something snaps you out of it. And if you have any sense at all, you would hope it wasn’t the cat charging that brought you back to yourself.
Standing there, Akira watched Yuu stalk toward him, and foolishly found himself wishing for bars between them. The guitarist’s graceful glide was beautiful and threatening, a knowing stalk that was probably equal parts careless common nature and deliberate warning. As soon as the bassist acknowledged the thought and the faint shiver of trepidation, he beat it back. With a lift of his chin he inhaled deeply, squaring his shoulders as his golden eyes gleamed in challenge when he met Yuu’s black gaze squarely and without fear.
He wasn’t going to be afraid of a complete stranger. Though Yuu did have an impressive enough reputation, it was less about fights and more about skill. There was the occasional story of his temper or the warning that he could kick your ass if you pissed him off… But he was usually thought to be ‘sexy’, ‘charming’, ‘talented’, etc.
Unaware of the posturing between the false ‘allies’, their rivals squeaked and bowed and made themselves scarce in a moment. Akira felt them go, a distant pang of acknowledgement buried under the realization of a bigger threat. His eyes never left Yuu and his graceful stalk into the room, closer to Akira rather than the smaller male they’d both appeared to save. Yuu didn’t seem to pay much mind to the evacuating party either, though Akira could guess easily enough why.
Akira’s thoughts were simple on the matter: those scurrying away were nothing more than pesky little scavengers. Yuu here was the type hunter that would face the fight, make the kill, and leave a carcass for them to feed from later.
Luckily Akira was a hunter himself. The bassist narrowed his eyes faintly and took a step forward, the gesture both challenge and warning.
Aoi smirked, mouth parting to unleash words that never came.
“Play nice, Yuu.” Ruki demanded, instantly appearing at Reita’s elbow and curling a hand around his arm. “He got here before you did, and he doesn’t even know me.”
“You’re Ruki.” Reita muttered. “You sing and are learning to play guitar, you used to play drums but your last band broke up and you’re looking for new members.”
Pale eyes were wide and thoughtful as they looked up at him, accentuated by dramatic shadow and long lashes. “Suzuki Akira actually does pay attention to the world beyond his boyfriend.”
Reita jumped, blinking at him in surprise. “Boyfriend?”
Aoi smirked. “I told you they weren’t dating.”
“Boyfriend, dating, those might be too structured of terms when applied to the scenario.” Ruki smiled faintly and batted the semantics away with an airy wave of his free hand, the other still curled around Reita’s arm. “Everyone knows Uruha is too beautiful to simply ‘date’, though if anyone were to think he were dating someone, the only person he consistently keeps in contact with is you.”
“I have friends.” Uruha crooned from the doorway, and Reita couldn’t help but notice the honey-haired male had draped himself in the best pose possible. “Don’t they count?”
Somehow the light even managed to shine just-right on Kouyou, at least when he asked it to. The lazy lean was seductive and confident, the tilt of his head just artful enough to be enticing and slightly challenging, the curve of his mouth inviting. His eyes were half-lidded in an inviting impression of a come-hither gaze, designed to lull the unwary into forgetting a keen mind turned behind those cinnamon-colored contacts.
A deep red vest clung to a white button-down shirt, half of its buttons undone to flaunt pale skin at the neckline and upper chest as well as a hint of navel and flat stomach just above the waistline of his jeans. A stylish black jacket clung to his shoulders, light enough to let him breathe provided he stayed off the dance floor. Tight black leather pants led to black boots with just enough heel to add sway to his walk.
Not that Kouyou needed the help.
With a final distrustful glare to Reita, Aoi turned to face the newly arrived male, and stumbled ever-so-slightly on nothing. Obviously this was the first time the rhythm guitarist had ever laid eyes on the honey-haired vixen without the press of the crowd to disguise his charms.
Aoi blinked a few times, shaking his head faintly as though attempting to clear his thoughts. With a widening smile Kouyou watched the gesture, then sighed as he pushed off from the doorframe and paced into the room.
Though Akira had seen his best friend bust his ass more than a few time, Kouyou had some sort of knack for being graceful in public. Particularly when they were on stage performing. He was either graceful, or stationary. That same grace transferred into an alluring walk that carried him close to Aoi.
A flash of caramel heat lit Uruha’s dark eyes as he swayed close to the other guitarist, smiling as he placed a light kiss at the corner of Aoi’s mouth. “Thanks for keeping my Rei out of trouble, regardless.”
Reita shook his head as Kouyou continued to walk toward him and Ruki, wondering faintly as the smaller male’s hand tightened around his arm. “Not going to introduce yourself, Uruha?”
“Do I need an introduction, honey?” He prompted coyly, stopping a stride away from the pair. “I thought they already knew who I was.”
At the ‘Honey’ comment Ruki’s other hand lifted, fingers faintly curling through one of Reita’s belt-loops. Though he didn’t show it, the bassist felt the gesture keenly, and faintly wondered why the younger male was indulging in touch. He also wondered -in a very distant corner of his mind- why he was enjoying it so much.
Turning to consider the trio, Aoi hung back. As they spoke he remained, eyeing the honey-blond thoughtfully as his tongue traced the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t call me that.” Reita muttered, somewhat sulkily, though the relaxing of the smaller body at his side told him it was the right reply. “You’re so annoying, you know that? You bail on me when we walk in the door, and now that everything is over you finally come back like nothing?”
“I’ll buy you a drink?” Kouyou offered with a tilt of his head and the beginnings of a pout. “Rei-Rei, I’m so-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Reita muttered. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m really annoyed with you, Uruha.”
The honey blond pouted.
“I owe you.” Ruki muttered suddenly, the words prompting all three men to look to him. “For helping me out, Akira… And, and playing along.”
Reita would never say it, but the blush on the younger man’s cheeks just then was adorable. “It wasn’t a problem, really. I-”
“I owe you.” Ruki replied stubbornly. “And I want to pay you back.”
“Alright, alright…” Reita muttered, then smiled. “Sing for me?”
Contact-gray eyes snapped wide. “Wah?”
“I heard around that you can sing. Sing for me.”
The color along those pale cheeks darkened and Ruki playfully punched him. “Here? Are you crazy? No way.”
“Alright, alright!” Akira laughed, untangling himself from the other as Ruki swung at him again. “Some other time?”
“Fine.” Ruki muttered. “But something right now, I owe you more than a song.”
Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, the bassist frowned as he considered the shorter male. “Something now then… Well, why do you start by telling me your real name?”
The smile the smaller male gave him made his heart twist. “Matsumoto Takanori.”
“Nice to meet you, Taka.”
“Nice to meet you, ‘Kira.” Takanori replied with another of his stunning smiles.
Then and there Akira decided that he could get used to that smile.
I'll never forget the day I First Saw You...
***
"Ch 2: When I First Heard You"
You should be used to my shameless plug for comments and know that I need feedback or may become despondent and abandon all writing practices. Cater to my ego, bitches! I really want to know what you think and I love you all, dear readers. (Really, this is all out of love. <3)
Pairing: AoixUruha, ReitaxRuki
Writer: black_prophet (Midsummer_Slave)
Genre: Angst/Drama, Fluff, Smut (Later Ch)
Rating: PG13 (Current)
Warning: Ummm... Graceful Uruha, Badass Reita, NinjaJungleCat Aoi, Vulnerable Ruki, RandomGuysInBlack, Shameless Entertainment provided by Miyavi.
A/N: This fic is dedicated to myeyeswillclose because I blame her for this random idea mutating into a Multi Chapter fic. And she needed another dedication. This chapter is also co-dedicated to that stalker fantasyrocks13 who hasn't begged me to work on this because she knows life is insane, and has instead been waiting patiently since June when I started it.
Disclaimer: THIS IS A FANFICTION. It is a work of Fiction starring real people that I sadly do not own in any way, shape, or form except for CDs, and DVDs and an impressive collection of pictures, as well as a poster that is still not as good as the real thing!! Which should count but doesn't. *SAD FACE* Move on, nothing to see here...
A/N2: Chapters in this story will be dedicated to the senses, with a final Chapter for 'Love'. That is all for now. Enjoy!
Suzuki Akira -or Reita, to most- had no real idea why he’d decided to attend this excessively colorful gathering. The only way he would have agreed was with good reason, a really, really good reason. And he knew there had been a reason he agreed. But for the life of him, as his eyes swept over the crowd, he couldn’t remember the damn thing.
Granted this gathering was all about music, so there was a reason for him to be interested… But still! It certainly didn’t qualify as a ‘big’ enough reason to explain why he was out in this, insanity. When he could have been home, playing his bass and working on songs? When he could have been at a quieter gathering with some of his friends, rather than allowing himself to be thrust into a crowd?
You’ve fucking lost your mind, Suzuki. He thought venomously as he tried to twist through the crowd. The crush of people in the club was stifling, more than enough to make someone as unsociable as him uncomfortable. Add to that the fact that his best friend had been seduced away by some enigmatic potential-lover, and the bassist was fit to be tied.
He didn’t like to be surrounded by strangers, he didn’t like to be left alone amongst such people, and he didn’t want them touching him. Thanks to Uruha’s - otherwise known as Takashima Kouyou, his childhood friend- unexpected departure, he was saddled with all three unpleasant outcomes. At once. Great, just great. At least with the chatty, enthusiastic presence of Kouyou at his side, he would have been somewhat distracted from all the people.
But no. The honey-blond had caught sight of someone or another worth enticing to his bed, and he was off like a shot. Akira would be hard pressed to guess how long Kouyou had kept his promise to be ‘right there, all night’, but if he had to hazard a guess it wasn’t more than ten minutes.
That included the drive to get to this club in the first place.
“You are so fucking dead when I catch you, Kou.” The blond muttered under his breath, eyes slitting behind flat-ironed and carefully styled bangs. Between them and the scrap of fabric he’d tied across his cheekbones and nose, much of his face was hidden. Just the way he wanted it.
He was tall and leanly muscled, twisting through the club dressed in shades of black and white like the interweaving strands of his blond and black hair. Assorted bracelets and bands -again in shades of black and white- wound around his wrists, and more simple black bands curling around his arms just above his elbows. They served no real purpose, he just liked the look. The sleeveless shirt flaunted his arms, clinging to his torso and catching at his hip. It was there that black jeans took over, slightly baggy and embellished with studs and the occasional fray of white. Twin belts curled around his waist, one black and the other white. Both bore studs, metal that gleamed dull-silver in the flashing light just like the ones at his wrists and the simple silver chain that sat close around his neck.
Winding his way through the crowd, he very firmly ignored the appreciative looks he was getting from both genders. If he were in a better mood, he might have stopped long enough to flirt and try and catch a few phone numbers, but at the moment he was just pissed. A drink was definitely in order, and then maybe a few minutes in a corner away from the crush of people until he could get over planning his revenge on the now-absent honey-blond.
Hair of every different color -both natural and not- gleamed under the flashing lights of various hues. Styles were no less varied, suiting the various costumes that they accompanied on all matter of people. Tall and short, male and female, goth and rocker. Just about everyone you’d care to look for in such a place, and they were all drinking and having a good time.
One of the more colorful attendees was on the stage at the moment, playfully kissing his guitarist before returning to the lyrics of their song. His hair was short and styled in every different direction, and was colored in no less than six shades, maybe more. He had piercings and tattoos and a stage-presence that was anything but ignorable.
Still, Akira shot him little more than a glance and then threaded his way through the crowd, dead set on his two goals. The second came more readily than the first, a narrow hallway offering him a chance away from the crowd. Pausing, he briefly toyed with the idea of finding the bar first, but that seemed to be through the sea of people, and he quickly decided against it.
“Just get away from everyone for awhile.” He muttered to himself, sliding his hands into his pockets and slipping into the unguarded hallway. The rest he’d fix later, and then he’d find Kouyou. There was no telling if they’d still be friends by that point.
For the moment, he’d settle for being alone, so he paced down the hall. The entrance to the hall was narrow, a sly twist of a thing that led to a hall of decent width once you got past the odd blocky-s-shaped entrance. Immediate doors offered entrance to the bathrooms, which were ignored as he paced along down the dimly lit corridor.
Idle curiosity had taken hold, and with the wall between him and the rest of the building, the music was slightly muffled and the sound of the crowd diminished. The croon of the guitars and bass hummed through the floor and walls, but that was a sound Akira was more than comfortable with. He loved music, loved the feel of the energy and life that sang through the bass when he plugged it in and ran a hand over the strings.
Too bad their last band had fractured, yet again. Now, as always, it was back to two. Him and Kouyou, bassist and guitarist; once again looking for another shot at something bigger than the occasional gig at a club. Whether they’d find it or not, he wasn’t really sure anymore, but either way they needed more people. This little worship collection was as good a place as any, a lot of bands and musicians gathering together in one place to talk and share their talents.
“We’ll go and see if we can find what we need.” Kouyou had coaxed and begged and threatened, and finally Akira had given in.
It wasn’t exactly hard to say ‘no’ to the honey-eyed male who’d fashioned himself into a vixen, it was just hard to make that ‘no’ stay. Immune to Kouyou’s looks, flattery, and charm, Akira still couldn’t quite work past the flat out begging, threatening, or occasional blackmailing. When Kou had you, he kept you, and he’d had Akira’s number for a long time. Longer than the bassist cared to remember, most days.
Being friends with Kouyou since grade school made you feel fucking old most days. He’d been manipulating the world to his liking even then. And you know what they said about practice. Yeah. Kouyou had done nothing but get better with age. Rather like the alcohol he was so fond of, actually. Life was just funny like that, sometimes.
It probably would have been annoying as hell, if they weren’t such good friends. Since they were, it was just part of things. Kou’s loyalty for Akira was just as unwavering as Akira’s friendship. There was no reason for that to change. Even if the honey-blond had bailed on him to chase tail, if Kouyou needed help, Akira would be there in a second. For the moment, Kou was in the heart of the fray -just like he wanted it- and Akira was looking for a corner to catch some peace.
Further down, the hallway was lined with doors. Supply closets and access to the electric box, various service corridors and even backstage access. Other doors indicated dressing rooms and the like. At the end of the hall was another open doorway, a sharp turn that led to a largely empty storage room, a few crates stacked in the far corner.
The crates weren’t the reason Suzuki Akira paused in the doorway, surprise flashing over his face and then anger making his eyes darken. Aside from the crates, the room was occupied by four figures. Three of which were grouped around the fourth, who had his back to the wall as he watched them with all the wariness of a cornered animal. Not a friendly conversation, by the look of things.
Strangely enough, the entire scene was fixed with a startling clarity. Low light came from the domes affixed to the ceiling, half-shadowing the room even as they bled yellow light over bare concrete walls and darkly tiled floors. The room itself was old and unapologetic, storage and nothing more. If he had to guess, Akira would have said the cornered male was seeking some solitude just like him. He couldn’t really guess why the three males had followed the more delicate back here, but they were like jackals circling something wounded.
Black hair and dark clothing made one as nondescript as the next. There was nothing extraordinary or memorable about them, and if they were to walk back into the party in the main room of the club, you’d probably never be able to pick them out. At least, not unless you knew them. There as a brutal ‘sameness’ to them that spoke of a gang, just as their hunting in a group did, but no proudly displayed ‘colors’ or identifying traits of any kind.
Akira didn’t waste too much time on them, seeing all he’d needed to. None of them had weapons, and they were swaggering because the numbers were in their favor, not necessarily because they were all that badass. And considering that it took three of them to herd the smaller male into a corner, the opposite result seemed likely. None of them seemed to notice his arrival, and he ventured a guess that if he made enough of an ‘entrance’, they wouldn’t stick around.
Which only left their prey.
Even without analyzing the stranger, Akira knew he’d help. If there was something he couldn’t stand, it was someone stronger taking out their rage -or whatever- on someone weaker. Or something, for that matter. In his eyes, animal-abuse was just as callous and unforgivable.
Though the smaller male wasn’t exactly weak, three-to-one odds was more than enough to make the bassist growl. That was pure cowardice, they wanted to scare and hurt him, so they intended to attack in force. It was probably luck that they’d caught him back here, out of sight and hearing with the musicians and crowd in the next room. They’d revel in a little violence, and then strut off, smug with their superior strength.
It was hard not to crack his knuckles and jump in right there. But he wasn’t done with his assessment of the situation, and for the moment they weren’t doing anything more than shooting their mouths off. The situation would keep a minute or two longer, enough for him to see everything.
The pale-skinned figure they’d cornered had somehow wound up in a stray pool of light while his enemies were shrouded in the shadows. Weak yellow light gleamed in hair that was striped black and a rich purple, flat-ironed and styled into wisp-like spikes that flared out in a way that bespoke of attitude and mischief. Dark makeup surrounded his eyes in a way that flaunted and hid the shape, the overall affect being intriguing and attractive. In contrast to the dark make-up, his eyes gleamed an eerie pale gray; contacts.
More makeup stretched down his neck in inviting lines, painted from his jaw down his throat and ending in points. His bangs were flat-ironed down over his right eye and most of that cheek, varying lengths offering a flash of the pale skin of his cheek, a sliver of the black makeup around his eyes, part of his nose, and most of his left eye before longer strands took over again. Black lipstick marked a perfect mouth, though the lips drew back in a harsh white snarl as he faced the trio, not yet realizing he had backup.
In spite of being small, he obviously wasn’t lacking in courage. Hands fisted in black gloves, a silver chain bracelet gleaming around one wrist and a scattering of rings glinting in the low light. His jacket was purple and satiny, catching and releasing the light in a subtly inviting way as he shifted, shadows gliding over the fabric.
It was strange the depth of detail and clarity he found as he watched the three brag about their prowess, and the solitary figure snap back that they weren’t as clever as they thought they were. Reita had no reason to take in each minute detail, but for some reason it imprinted on his brain. One almost-delicate male, stylishly graceful as he skirted away from a few mock lunges, against three common-coated human hyenas.
And that was the first time Suzuki Akira honestly saw Matsumoto Takanori.
“Doesn’t look like fair odds to me.” Reita rumbled with a sinister growl, a smile curving over his lips and filling his amber eyes. “This a private party, or can anyone play?”
“New boyfriend, Shorty?” The lanky male to the farthest right sneered, unimpressed by Reita’s appearance though his fellows were shifting nervously.
Well, maybe they knew of him, though their ‘leader’ sure as hell didn’t. Reita let his smile spread, though it twisted into an almost-snarl as he gave another low growl and stepped further into the room. Slowly approaching the dancing light, he momentarily let his eyes slide from the three figures to their cornered opponent.
Ghost-gray eyes fixed on him with surprise, perfect lips parted in surprise. The mocking question made him glance back to his enemies, then Reita again, gestures curt and half-hidden behind his bangs.
Reita only saw it because he was looking, and for some reason the lie came easily. “Don’t think I gave you permission to give him pet-names. And it’s pretty well known I don’t share well.”
He’d dragged a drunken Kouyou away from many a potential boyfriend in his time. It had been long-ago added to his public persona, and he’d never bothered to correct it. He had plenty of girls interested in him when he was looking, but then, so did Kouyou. Personally, Reita wondered how their egos could take it, being in a relationship with someone prettier than they were.
But that was a debate for a different time.
“They were just leaving, Akira.” The delicate male spoke at last, his knowledge of the noseband-wearing bassist obviously a little better than that of the three who surrounded him. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“Doesn’t look like a misunderstanding, baby.” Reita growled, stepping left slightly as one of the three turned to survey him, flexing the muscles in his arms.
“Suzuki Akira.” The male closest to him suddenly squeaked, and Reita didn’t bother to hide the smirk as one brow lifted. “You’re Suzuki Akira?”
“That’s me.” He purred. “I don’t do autographs, at least, not with a pen. I’m partial to broken bones, to be honest.”
“No trouble!” The male squeaked again, skittering away from his prey as Reita theatrically cracked his knuckles. “Like he said, it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Aya, what’s wrong with you?” The first hissed, visibly agitated as the second male began responding to the other’s panic over Reita’s identity.
“Not looking for trouble.” Aya muttered and skittered away from Reita as he took a threatening step closer. “Sorry man, sorry.”
The ‘Shorty’ arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth for all that he still had one threatening presence and the possibility of a second keeping his back to the wall. Reita’s smirk returned at that faint smile, posture still bowed up as he watched ‘Aya’ back slowly toward the door.
“Forget this, Kang, I’m out.” He muttered.
“Smart.” Purred another voice from the doorway, the tone a rumbling threat like the purr of a jaguar. Sure it was silken-soft and crooning, but you knew whoever made the noise could maul you in a moment. “Run along, Aya.”
“Yuu?” Now the first male looked nervous, and his second took rapid steps back to his side, their backs to a crate.
“You aren’t allowed to call me that.” ‘Yuu’ purred as he stepped into the room and Aya bolted past him. “It’s Aoi. Don’t pretend you know me any more intimately than the occasional ass-kicking I give you. Certainly not enough for a first-name basis, not on your side, anyway.”
Reita let the smirk fade in favor of a faintly impressed mask. Shiroyama Yuu was known to him, if only because Kouyou privately swooned over his guitar skills. And when Kou swooned, he practically foamed. Two steps away from going right into heat, not that Reita would ever tell him so.
At least not without severe provocation on Kouyou’s part.
The last Reita heard from the honey-blond he called best friend, the black-haired guitarist had gotten into a fight with his band mates. Apparently not the first time -and probably not the last- it resulted in Shiroyama and the drummer leaving the band. Word was the fight was even at the drummer’s behest, though no one seemed inclined to believe that when the legacy of Yuu’s temper made so convenient a storyline.
What had been the drummer’s name again? Ruki. His stage name was Ruki, Akira recalled in a moment. That must be ‘shorty’ -or as Reita had called him, “baby”- who was still trapped against the wall.
“I know you’re not good at counting.” Ruki purred from his place at the wall, a devilish glint marking his eye and the curve of his mouth matching it. “But you’re outnumbered now, Hanzo. You might want to slink back to your gutter, while you can still walk.”
Reita growled softly, cracking his wrist with an exaggerated twist of his arm and taking an eager step toward the pair as they skittered sideways. “I don’t like that idea, what if they feel like doing something stupid next week?”
“They’ll find someone else to try it on, won’t they?” Shiroyama Yuu crooned, pacing further into the room. His outfit was shades of black, a clinging t-shirt over low-riding jeans. The rolling glide of his walk was marked by the click of boots and the chime of a wallet chain from hip to back pocket, other decorative chains echoing it, the fabric sighing.
It seemed strange to Akira how suddenly he could hear the soft chime of the silver, when they’d made no noise until Yuu stepped into the light. Did he have some sort of knack for moving silently, in spite of whatever clothes he chose to wear? He let his eyes slide up to meet a raging black-on-black gaze, stiffening slightly at the mute distrust in those dark portals. Challenge and hunger gleamed there also, but it wasn’t the flattering kind of hunger.
’Rather the kind that a big cat reveals to you through the bars of his cage…’ Akira admitted silently to himself. The look that says “If there weren’t bars between us, you’d be lunch right now.”, as they stalk toward you.
And you stand there because there are bars, so you are safe… But in the back of your head you wonder if you’d be able to move anyway. Sometimes a look like that can catch you, make you freeze, and you’ll stand there until something snaps you out of it. And if you have any sense at all, you would hope it wasn’t the cat charging that brought you back to yourself.
Standing there, Akira watched Yuu stalk toward him, and foolishly found himself wishing for bars between them. The guitarist’s graceful glide was beautiful and threatening, a knowing stalk that was probably equal parts careless common nature and deliberate warning. As soon as the bassist acknowledged the thought and the faint shiver of trepidation, he beat it back. With a lift of his chin he inhaled deeply, squaring his shoulders as his golden eyes gleamed in challenge when he met Yuu’s black gaze squarely and without fear.
He wasn’t going to be afraid of a complete stranger. Though Yuu did have an impressive enough reputation, it was less about fights and more about skill. There was the occasional story of his temper or the warning that he could kick your ass if you pissed him off… But he was usually thought to be ‘sexy’, ‘charming’, ‘talented’, etc.
Unaware of the posturing between the false ‘allies’, their rivals squeaked and bowed and made themselves scarce in a moment. Akira felt them go, a distant pang of acknowledgement buried under the realization of a bigger threat. His eyes never left Yuu and his graceful stalk into the room, closer to Akira rather than the smaller male they’d both appeared to save. Yuu didn’t seem to pay much mind to the evacuating party either, though Akira could guess easily enough why.
Akira’s thoughts were simple on the matter: those scurrying away were nothing more than pesky little scavengers. Yuu here was the type hunter that would face the fight, make the kill, and leave a carcass for them to feed from later.
Luckily Akira was a hunter himself. The bassist narrowed his eyes faintly and took a step forward, the gesture both challenge and warning.
Aoi smirked, mouth parting to unleash words that never came.
“Play nice, Yuu.” Ruki demanded, instantly appearing at Reita’s elbow and curling a hand around his arm. “He got here before you did, and he doesn’t even know me.”
“You’re Ruki.” Reita muttered. “You sing and are learning to play guitar, you used to play drums but your last band broke up and you’re looking for new members.”
Pale eyes were wide and thoughtful as they looked up at him, accentuated by dramatic shadow and long lashes. “Suzuki Akira actually does pay attention to the world beyond his boyfriend.”
Reita jumped, blinking at him in surprise. “Boyfriend?”
Aoi smirked. “I told you they weren’t dating.”
“Boyfriend, dating, those might be too structured of terms when applied to the scenario.” Ruki smiled faintly and batted the semantics away with an airy wave of his free hand, the other still curled around Reita’s arm. “Everyone knows Uruha is too beautiful to simply ‘date’, though if anyone were to think he were dating someone, the only person he consistently keeps in contact with is you.”
“I have friends.” Uruha crooned from the doorway, and Reita couldn’t help but notice the honey-haired male had draped himself in the best pose possible. “Don’t they count?”
Somehow the light even managed to shine just-right on Kouyou, at least when he asked it to. The lazy lean was seductive and confident, the tilt of his head just artful enough to be enticing and slightly challenging, the curve of his mouth inviting. His eyes were half-lidded in an inviting impression of a come-hither gaze, designed to lull the unwary into forgetting a keen mind turned behind those cinnamon-colored contacts.
A deep red vest clung to a white button-down shirt, half of its buttons undone to flaunt pale skin at the neckline and upper chest as well as a hint of navel and flat stomach just above the waistline of his jeans. A stylish black jacket clung to his shoulders, light enough to let him breathe provided he stayed off the dance floor. Tight black leather pants led to black boots with just enough heel to add sway to his walk.
Not that Kouyou needed the help.
With a final distrustful glare to Reita, Aoi turned to face the newly arrived male, and stumbled ever-so-slightly on nothing. Obviously this was the first time the rhythm guitarist had ever laid eyes on the honey-haired vixen without the press of the crowd to disguise his charms.
Aoi blinked a few times, shaking his head faintly as though attempting to clear his thoughts. With a widening smile Kouyou watched the gesture, then sighed as he pushed off from the doorframe and paced into the room.
Though Akira had seen his best friend bust his ass more than a few time, Kouyou had some sort of knack for being graceful in public. Particularly when they were on stage performing. He was either graceful, or stationary. That same grace transferred into an alluring walk that carried him close to Aoi.
A flash of caramel heat lit Uruha’s dark eyes as he swayed close to the other guitarist, smiling as he placed a light kiss at the corner of Aoi’s mouth. “Thanks for keeping my Rei out of trouble, regardless.”
Reita shook his head as Kouyou continued to walk toward him and Ruki, wondering faintly as the smaller male’s hand tightened around his arm. “Not going to introduce yourself, Uruha?”
“Do I need an introduction, honey?” He prompted coyly, stopping a stride away from the pair. “I thought they already knew who I was.”
At the ‘Honey’ comment Ruki’s other hand lifted, fingers faintly curling through one of Reita’s belt-loops. Though he didn’t show it, the bassist felt the gesture keenly, and faintly wondered why the younger male was indulging in touch. He also wondered -in a very distant corner of his mind- why he was enjoying it so much.
Turning to consider the trio, Aoi hung back. As they spoke he remained, eyeing the honey-blond thoughtfully as his tongue traced the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t call me that.” Reita muttered, somewhat sulkily, though the relaxing of the smaller body at his side told him it was the right reply. “You’re so annoying, you know that? You bail on me when we walk in the door, and now that everything is over you finally come back like nothing?”
“I’ll buy you a drink?” Kouyou offered with a tilt of his head and the beginnings of a pout. “Rei-Rei, I’m so-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Reita muttered. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m really annoyed with you, Uruha.”
The honey blond pouted.
“I owe you.” Ruki muttered suddenly, the words prompting all three men to look to him. “For helping me out, Akira… And, and playing along.”
Reita would never say it, but the blush on the younger man’s cheeks just then was adorable. “It wasn’t a problem, really. I-”
“I owe you.” Ruki replied stubbornly. “And I want to pay you back.”
“Alright, alright…” Reita muttered, then smiled. “Sing for me?”
Contact-gray eyes snapped wide. “Wah?”
“I heard around that you can sing. Sing for me.”
The color along those pale cheeks darkened and Ruki playfully punched him. “Here? Are you crazy? No way.”
“Alright, alright!” Akira laughed, untangling himself from the other as Ruki swung at him again. “Some other time?”
“Fine.” Ruki muttered. “But something right now, I owe you more than a song.”
Hooking his thumbs in his pockets, the bassist frowned as he considered the shorter male. “Something now then… Well, why do you start by telling me your real name?”
The smile the smaller male gave him made his heart twist. “Matsumoto Takanori.”
“Nice to meet you, Taka.”
“Nice to meet you, ‘Kira.” Takanori replied with another of his stunning smiles.
Then and there Akira decided that he could get used to that smile.
I'll never forget the day I First Saw You...
***
"Ch 2: When I First Heard You"
You should be used to my shameless plug for comments and know that I need feedback or may become despondent and abandon all writing practices. Cater to my ego, bitches! I really want to know what you think and I love you all, dear readers. (Really, this is all out of love. <3)