The Beast And The Fairy -- 03. City of Illusions
Title: The Beast And The Fairy -- Chapter 03. City of Illusions
Authors:
sphinxofthenile and
_ice_lady_
Fandom: Buck-Tick, Der Zibet
Pairing: Atsushi/Issay... eventually.
Rating: NC17 altogether, though we're far away from porn.
Disclaimer: Do not own. Make no money. Mean no harm.
Summary: "I cannot give you the formula for success, but I can give you the formula for failure, which is: Try to please everybody." ~ Herbert Bayard Swope
Warning: A decade of UST. Adult topics like marriage, cheating, prostitution, coming out, mental disorders, drinking problems, abuse, parental issues and death.
A/N: Credits can be seen, in their entirety, here. Another huge, huge thanks to
chibipinkbunny for going through this for us!
Deca-dance with a smile
Sing, dance, and go mad
Sakurai Atsushi, City of Illusions
---
Tokyo, May 1989
Atsushi guessed he should have expected it. Things were going too well. They made it big, way beyond what they had expected, with opportunities opening up all around them with unprecedented speed. So many things to simply reach out for, things that seemed impossible before. Things were just going too damn well for a change.
He should have known, most likely. Then again, if there was anyone to blame, it was Imai. Surprisingly so (and quite ironically at that), considering how many times the man had said that Atsushi would be the end of this band. Well, so much about that one.
And seriously, LSD? Seriously? Wasn’t it enough that the poor guy looked like a stoner, he had to carry his shit around with him too? How on earth could someone be so god damn dumb? Couldn’t he like... hide the damn drugs in Yutaka’s bag? Like anyone was ever going to suspect that sweet face, much less believe the kid was on something. But obviously, that completely flew over the head of their resident music genius.
Who was now under arrest, stupid dumb fuck that he was. After all the preaching and holier-than-thou shit, that royal moron was locked up at the police station himself. And no, but Atsushi wasn’t even willing to touch on the subject of what that might possibly mean for the band, because he just knew he was close to losing his mind already.
He had already contacted the rest of the band, and they had agreed that the best course of action was no action. While Atsushi agreed that it was for the best, that didn’t mean that sitting at home and waiting to see how it all played out was something he enjoyed. Good god, what if the press caught wind of what was going on? Hell, what if Imai was dragged to court, or worse, to jail? What were the odds of getting clean out of this one?
What were the odds of their career surviving this little social blunder?
Atsushi just wished he could bang his head against the next hard surface. Or have a drink. A really hard one. Except, drinking alone was something that he would rather not do. Too much personal beef with that one.
He was almost relieved when he heard his phone ring. Then the relief way place to worry. What if it was bad news about Imai? What if he was kept in custody? Would there be a trial? Once he grabbed the phone and heard the rather familiar voice greet him from the other side, all those thoughts went right out the proverbial window, worry morphing itself into something way heavier. And confusing enough to make Atsushi want to sit down.
Why on earth was Issay calling him?
They hadn’t spoken since that last phone call that Atsushi still wished he could forget. Or better still, make sure it never happened and erase even the memory of it. The fact that Issay took his nervous, mumbling apology with so much grace, assuring him that everything was fine, didn’t help one bit. Just made sure Atsushi felt even more horrible for his drunken shenanigans and dragging the man into the middle of it.
“Umm, hi?” Atsushi hoped his voice wasn’t shaking as much as his hands suddenly were. And there was, logically, no reason for it. Maybe Atsushi was just so tired from everything that had been happening with Imai. Yes, that had to be it.
“I’ll just keep this short,” Issay started, and Atsushi noticed an undertone in that voice that could only be called... warm? Strange, indeed. “But if you need someone to talk to...”
“Uh, about what?” Atsushi asked, hoping to gods this had nothing to do with what he thought it had.
“Imai?” Issay offered and Atsushi thanked the deities he was sitting.
“How do you...?” Atsushi tried, and heard Issay sigh.
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I saw it on the news,” the man said. Atsushi felt the world spinning around him.
“Shit.” Very eloquent, that one... but Atsushi didn’t care at this point. The news. “Oh, god...”
“I’ll be right over,” Issay said then, and Atsushi wanted to say something to the man. Most importantly, he wanted to tell him not to bother, because first of all, they weren’t friends. Second of all, this was Imai’s fuck up, not Issay’s. Third, of course, Atsushi did not want to be in the same room with him ever again.
But, trust Issay to hang up before Atsushi could put any of these rushing thoughts into words. And perhaps it was for the best, because the way this was going, Atsushi was just afraid he was going to burst out crying through the speaker.
And then he realised Issay was dropping by. And Imai’s arrest was on the news. And Issay was dropping by.
Well, fuck.
---
A rather curious thing about Issay was the fact that, even though Atsushi had effectively known the man literally for only a few days, that didn’t stop him from most likely putting his rather busy schedule on hiatus, just so he could drop by Atsushi’s place (how did he even know the address?) with a bottle of wine and a smile that was going to be the death of Atsushi one day, for sure.
Not to mention the fact that he’d literally managed to lock himself inside Atsushi’s kitchen with the determination of making dinner. Granted, 5pm wasn’t exactly dinner time, but Atsushi couldn’t refuse free food. He’d paid for the supplies, granted, but not the service. So to speak.
And gods, but after everything, why was Issay being so nice to him again?
“If there is anything I can help with...” he tried, but Issay just shook his head with one of those smiles, and Atsushi never felt so helpless in his life. Or as useless, indeed. Which Issay probably noticed, because the next minute, Atsushi was seated at his very own kitchen table with a fresh cup of tea and watching as the man took his appliances over. For someone so thin and graceful, Issay sure as hell was energetic, to the point of making Atsushi envious.
If he felt anything at the moment, tired, pissed and confused was more like it. Atsushi was just too damned polite to mention anything to Issay, and by the time he’d actually formed something coherent and polite enough, they were already seated at Atsushi’s kitchen table, slowly eating and enjoying the wine which, if Atsushi’s limited knowledge could figure, wasn’t the cheap supermarket crap.
Not to mention the fact that the food, as simple as it was (because Atsushi tended to overstock on fish sticks and microwave dinners, and a little bit of anything else), was rather tasty. The only problem was the company. The company was creepy. And not because there was anything wrong with Issay.
“Thank you,” Atsushi muttered somewhere in the middle of his meal, deciding that the silence was simply intolerable at this point.
Issay laughed, and by gods, its effect on Atsushi had not changed. “It’s nothing, really. I’m so sorry I just busted in almost uninvited.”
“I don’t think you of all people need special invitation to my home.” Oh, god. Did Atsushi actually say that aloud? By the way Issay was back to grinning again, he obviously did.
“Duly noted,” Issay teased, and Atsushi decided it was best if he hid his face behind his cup. And his hair. Sure, the guys might have been teasing him about growing it, but at least now it was proving useful. For the first time, so it seemed. “I really am sorry about everything that happened.”
“Yes, well, not your fault,” Atsushi offered, shrugging.
“Guessed you might need company, and be too egoistical about it,” Issay added and Atsushi snorted, hoping to gods he wasn’t blushing.
“Thanks.” He smiled. “And for the booze, too.” He raised his glass, and Issay’s smile grew a fraction.
“My pleasure, I guess. Snagged this bottle back in London. Raided some expensive as hell wine store. Kept it for good company,” Issay added, and Atsushi felt like sinking to the floor, and deeper.
“Gods, I’m sorry, I...” Atsushi tried, but Issay just chuckled, waving his hand. Gods, Atsushi forgot how gorgeous those hands were-- He had to mentally block himself, because of all days, this was definitely the wrong time to be thinking these thoughts.
Considering Imai was in jail and all that shit.
“Well, let’s drink to early retirement,” Atsushi decided to say, lifting his glass, but Issay just looked at him dumbly. “What, you think we’ll recover from this?” Atsushi shrugged.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” Issay said. “It’s just LSD.”
Atsushi stared. “Yeah. And pretty damned illegal, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Issay snorted. “Two words -- The Doors.” Atsushi rolled his eyes.
“In case you failed to notice, we’re the fucking Buck-Tick, not The Doors,” he said.
“True, that.” Issay grinned. “Most people don’t know who The Doors are around here.”
“Oh, but they sure as hell know who Imai Hisashi is, at this point,” Atsushi supplied and Issay nodded.
“Exactly,” the man said, lifting his glass eventually. “To free exposure.”
“Oh, my god!” Atsushi laughed dryly. “You’re completely crazy, you know that?”
Issay made a mock little nod. “Been called that, yeah...” he added with a chuckle, but turned serious pretty soon after, downing the rest of the wine from his glass. “If I were you, I’d use this. Seriously.”
“Duly noted,” Atsushi said and Issay laughed a bit too loudly. Well the wine was obviously hitting their bloodstreams, no doubt about that. “And to think I was supposed to start vocal training soon. So much about that...”
“Why?” Issay asked, confused. “More?” he added, taking hold of the wine bottle and pouring himself another glass. Atsushi happily extended his hand and waited for another glass before bothering to give the man an answer.
“Either way, it’s over?” Atsushi shrugged.
“And you plan on not singing ever again in your life?” Issay asked.
“Yeah, well, and who’s going to pay for my classes?” Atsushi rolled his eyes.
“I could,” Issay deadpanned, and Atsushi made a small prayer of thanks to the deities that he wasn’t drinking. “What?”
“You’re crazy,” Atsushi said with a snort.
“Yes, we’ve been through that.” Issay chuckled himself. “But I’m serious. What?”
“I’m not letting you pay for my vocal training,” Atsushi answered, disbelief obvious in his voice.
“How about we call it an investment?” Issay teased and Atsushi snorted again. “I really think you’re talented. Can you blame me for being quirky and wanting to do something with the money I earned? Using my own voice, mind,” the man added, and Atsushi was just too damned happy the wine was slowing down his mental processes, because he was very close to blurting out something down the line of Issay being famous for more than just his voice. Well, thank god for the wine’s numbing effect, indeed. “But seriously, how about you drop by my next session and meet the woman? She’s cool, you know.”
“Thanks, but...” Atsushi started, but the way Issay looked at him made him just shut the hell up.
“But what?” the man asked. “You’ll end up sitting here all alone, brooding?”
“Maybe they let Imai go?” Atsushi shrugged. Issay grinned. Oh this wasn’t going to be good, obviously.
“And then you’ll definitely need the training, no?” Yes, definitely wasn’t good, that one.
“You always have this need to be right in every argument?” Atsushi decided to change the subject ever so slightly.
“Sometimes, yeah,” Issay offered with another grin. “Horrible, I know.” Oh, if he only bothered adding a drop of sincerity to his words.
“Annoying as hell,” Atsushi decided to supply, but by gods, he was incapable of keeping the grin off his face.
“Thanks.” Issay’s grin was just too damned cheeky.
“No way in deflating that ego, is there?” Atsushi asked, pursing his lips in futile attempt of keeping the grin off his face. Very futile indeed.
“I wouldn’t be stripping on stage if there was, nope,” Issay deadpanned, and Atsushi burst out laughing.
---
Yes, Issay did love all things pretty, there was no doubt about that one. He’d known as much for most of his life. Shiny, pretty things tended to occupy a good part of his brain processes when they were around.
And holy, was Atsushi shiny. And pretty. Both adjectives a definite understatement. He was pretty bleached out and ruffled and looking like a street thug. He was pretty with too much make up and frilly clothes. But hair now long and straight and so god damned classy, and his clothes so chic and refined instead of those glittery horrors... Issay was done.
Definite improvement in the decorum of Naomi’s room.
And he was just too cute sitting there, obviously nervous and still under the influence of the introduction to the woman. Then again, she tended to leave quite the impression, always, considering she was African, skin the color of dark chocolate in deep contrast with her greying hair and the colorful shawl wrapped around it. In spite of being closer to sixty at this point than fifty, she still carried herself like a strict ballet instructor, authoritative and tolerating no nonsense. And the fact that she spoke perfect Japanese only managed to confuse Atsushi some more.
Of course, Issay could have warned Atsushi, but where would be the fun in that? He was just too adorable staring like someone presented him with a bucket of something poisonous. And radioactive, probably. Issay hid his chuckle behind a cough, which Naomi, of course, didn’t fail to miss, if the look shot in his direction was any indication.
“So, our dear Issay thinks you’d do good with some training.” She obviously decided to let the little interlude slip, for now, eyes back on Atsushi. Who by all means and purposes, seemed like he was about to bolt. Not that Issay could blame him, Naomi could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be. And it seemed she was doing exactly that right now.
Atsushi cast him a quick glance, but Issay just leaned back on the sofa, washing his hands. Oh, this was going to be fun indeed. “Well, I’ve been singing in a band, but I wanted to get better.” Oh, someone just used past tense, Issay thought with an inward snort. Like Atsushi was getting out of this one that easily.
“How long?”
“How long have I been singing?” Atsushi asked back, and Issay had to hold his laughter at bay once the poor man practically shrunk under that gaze.
“Obviously,” Naomi offered levelly, but the undertone, oh the undertone.
“It’s been... four years now.” Atsushi sounded more like he was asking instead of answering but at least he was speaking. That could be considered progress, Issay guessed. Then again, maybe one just needed to use the proper methods. There was a thought worth pondering...
“Well, I’m guessing you are old enough for your voice to be stable, and thank god you don’t sound nasal either.” Naomi pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with measured, precise movements. “You smoke?”
“Uhh. Yes?” Sweet heavens, was Atsushi cute. Issay just knew he couldn’t stop grinning if he wanted to. Thank god no one was looking his way. “I know it’s bad--”
“By all means, sweetie,” Naomi decided to interrupt, and it was all too comical to see Atsushi’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “If you want to go for the Louis Armstrong sound, that is.” She took a deep drag of her cigarette, as though accentuating the point. “Now sing.”
For a moment it looked like Atsushi wanted to ask another question, but he was obviously smarter than that. Gods, to think that a while ago Issay was in his place himself. Well, more like a few ages ago, somewhere around the prehistoric times, but that was beside the point. Oh well, he could at least just lean back and enjoy the view. And damn, what a view it was, even if Issay said so himself.
Then again, trust Atsushi to be his nervous little self, and by the time he was done with the song he looked like he just wanted to disappear. How the hell the man managed performances was completely beyond Issay, but experience would probably grow him out of it. Well, maybe. Hopefully.
“Well now.” Naomi stubbed out her smoke, giving Atsushi a long scrutinising look from head to toe that practically made the man hide behind his own hair. Which had to be, once again, the cutest thing Issay had ever seen. And dumbest, most likely, but nobody could be perfect. “To think you consider yourself a singer.” It was obvious Atsushi was as close to choking on his own spit as he ever was, and it was getting really hard to keep all that mirth Issay was feeling inside. Naomi’s manners (or lack, thereof) indeed required a bit of... getting used to. “Your technique will need one hell of a workout, but at least you are not completely hopeless.”
Watching Atsushi’s face change colours was one priceless experience in life.
"For a start, here's a few pointers," Naomi continued. Atsushi tried to stand a bit straighter. "Don't laugh. Please, don't talk. And please, try not to listen to music." Issay could see Atsushi open his mouth in protest, but all Naomi needed to do was lift one eyebrow and the man was smart enough not to continue. "Because you'll end up singing along. And no, you won't be able to help it. And if you did that, your throat won't be getting any rest."
"What am I then? Some kind of an invalid?" Atsushi blurted out, but it was obvious he wished he could retreat into a cave right after the words came out.
"Yes," Naomi supplied matter-of-factly. Atsushi, god bless his soul, was smart enough not to protest anymore.
“Good god, Issay, are you out of your mind?” Atsushi asked once they were in the elevator, running a hand across his hair, and damn, did Issay wish he could do the same. If it was half as soft as it looked... better not go there. “To train with this... this... shrew?”
“She can allow herself to be quirky.” Issay shrugged. “She is the best, after all. Besides, she really likes you.” He grinned, obviously catching Atsushi by surprise.
“Uhh. Sure.” Well, someone sucked at sarcasm, but at least he tried.
“What? She took you after the first try! Not something I can say myself,” Issay offered, and watched with a chuckle as Atsushi tried to gather his jaw from the ground.
“Why? What happened?”
Issay just shrugged. “Smart kid I am, I managed to slip something down the line of wanting to sing like David Bowie. I was out of her apartment before I could’ve finished the sentence.”
“Uhh, thanks for the warning, I guess.” Atsushi chuckled, and damn, did smiles look good on him. He needed to make them more often, definitely. “So, how come...?”
“Came crawling back,” Issay offered with a wink, and Atsushi just nodded, once again hiding behind all that gorgeous hair.
---
Atsushi couldn’t exactly say that he was surprised. Six months was nothing in comparison with what might have happened. They had to cancel the tour, and pretty much every interview that had been booked in the next several months had been called off too. Most of them by the interviewers themselves. Nothing unexpected there.
Granted, Imai was out. For now. The hearing, as symbolically fucked up as it was, was due Christmas. Which meant no leaving the country, for a start. And of course, glass ceilings everywhere.
It was beautiful how well a completely unrelated group of people could agree when it came to keeping someone an outcast. Beautiful indeed. Were it not for Issay, Atsushi had a distinct feeling he would have lost his mind. Like this, crazy as it sounded, he was indeed looking forward to those drinks and dinners that somehow became a constant in their lives. Unlike seeing his band mates, Issay wasn’t in the mood to mourn the past and dread for the future. He didn’t give a fuck about things like reminiscing and pity. The man lived for now, and it showed. Or at least, he didn’t give a fuck about Buck-Tick’s future, and that definitely showed.
But he was quite a good cook, so Atsushi decided to forgive him that one.
It was around three weeks after that first dreadful vocal training session, and Atsushi had just phoned Issay, because it had become the most normal thing to do. The beauty and the beast or, in this case, the superstar and the rogue. Up until now, it was generally Issay calling Atsushi and arranging their meetings, but for some reason Atsushi decided to grow a spine or as he explained to himself, stop being so god damned one sided, and he called Issay instead.
And gods, he really, really hated talking to people over the phone. For some weird reason, just knowing that it was Issay answering on the other side made him feel so ridiculously nervous. Not so much when they were face to face, but phones were a completely different matter. “Uh, hi...” Atsushi somehow muttered, but instantly felt relief as he heard a chuckle from the other side.
“And to what do I owe for this lovely surprise?” the man asked, and Atsushi felt his brain flat line.
“Uh...” Nice going, definitely. Atsushi decided to mentally slap himself. “Thought about being proactive once in my life and buy you dinner instead?” he asked, and could hear Issay chuckle once more.
“I’d be more than happy to. When?” the man asked.
“Tonight?” Atsushi tried, hopeful.
“Sorry, can’t do. Have... a prior arrangement,” Issai said, and Atsushi felt himself exhale with disappointment. “How about tomorrow?”
“I wish,” Atsushi said with an eye roll, completely forgetting that Issay couldn’t see him. “Mr Stoner finally decided to get off his ass and do something. We’re being whipped into the studio for an undetermined amount of time.”
“Wow, tough,” Issay said, snorting.
“Well, then...” Atsushi started, wanting to somehow break this off, because he didn’t want Issay to figure out how disappointed he was actually feeling. But, Issay was faster than Atsushi, as always.
“Fancy a visit to an art gallery?” he asked.
“Uh...” Again, very eloquent. But what the hell was Atsushi supposed to say to that? “In case you failed to notice, I’m not exactly the type to...” Issay chuckled, interrupting Atsushi mid sentence. Thank god for that, because quite honestly, Atsushi didn’t exactly know how to finish that one. And hell, what was the art gallery type anyway? Besides Issay, obviously. Because the man was smart, refined, eloquent. Perfect, Atsushi wanted to think, but he decided even his own thoughts required censoring in that aspect.
“Well, I’m definitely not skipping the rare opportunity to see Cassatt in person for you, sorry,” Issay teased. “But you’re more than free to join me. I promise a dinner afterwards.” Yes, way to sweet-talk Atsushi into... seeing an art gallery, or something.
“Okay...” Atsushi tried, chuckling himself.
“So, pick you up at seven?” Issay said, before Atsushi could think of a clever comeback.
“Sure, why the hell not,” Atsushi said, shrugging. “But I have to warn you -- I’ve no idea who this Cassatt dude is and why we’re seeing him,” he added and Issay burst out laughing.
“Paintings,” Issay corrected and Atsushi wanted to hit his head against a wall. “We’re going to see her paintings.”