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in
zekkouchou
Method Acting--JE
Title: Method Acting
Fandom: Johnny's Entertainment
Characters: Takizawa Hideaki
Rating: ...E for emo?
Disclaimer: If Takki belonged to me, you would NEVER hear from me again, folks.
Summary: Takki has to find a way to make his acting completely believable. It requires a little introspection.
Notes: I was told that this couldn't be done, so I did it. 731 words. Dedicated to all of the beautiful ladies on my friend list who encourage my random ideas.
It's a sad song, and he has to be convincing.
He's an actor, of course, so he knows the mechanics. He's done it before, and he can do it again.
But then they told him to do it better. For three days in a row.
Because of him, the shooting is behind schedule. Tsubasa has managed, but Takki has not.
He stands in front of the mirror, looking himself over inch by inch. He's a little tired, and it shows in the slightest darkening of the skin around his eyes. The makeup could only cover it for so long.
His eyes go first to his hair. It is perfect, as always. Reflexively, he pushes a strand of it into a different place, simply because he feels like he should. His hairdresser for the shoot he had last week, he thinks, would have been very upset.
His brow furrows, then returns to normal.
He looks down at his hands.
Once, just after a concert, he returned to the dressing room to find a brightly-clothed lump sitting in the chair nearest the wall. The body shook, making light bounce off sequins that looked disgustingly gaudy in such a plain setting. He felt unable to speak once he realized who it was. Gently, he put a hand on Tsubasa's shoulder. Tsubasa shrugged it off and curled up tighter.
There were times after that, Takki remembers, when there was nothing he could do to lift his partner up. When they should have been celebrating, the older man worried about his popularity, claiming weekly that he was holding Takki back. The only thing Takki could do was to try to reassure him. It never worked.
Whatever changed along the way, whatever brought Tsubasa confidence, wasn't Takki's doing. It makes him feel helpless.
He brings his hands to his face and breathes deeply. Peering into the mirror again, he lets his hands slide down his bare chest and to his perfectly sculpted abs. He remembers that back when they were Juniors, everyone seemed to find his obsession with toning quite ridiculous.
Subaru, the stick of the whole group, seemed especially amused. In the dressing room, he would take every opportunity to jab Takki in said abs. The way his eyes lit up and the way he stifled cackles at Takki's reactions were charming.
Part of Takki, at this moment, when he runs his fingers over the tops of his hip bones, wants those times back. It was simpler then, when they were all just working as hard as they could to make it anywhere. No one was an enemy, competition was friendly, and they all took care of each other no matter what.
The Jimusho started talking to them, pitting them against each other, pairing them off and isolating certain boys, and everything fell apart. Takki was the head of the popular ones, and he had no choice but to keep going up. He wouldn't trade his life now for anything, but the ill feeling lingers.
In the mirror, there's a distinct dullness in his eyes. He feels pain somewhere deep inside, something akin to sorrow, but almost closer to regret that he has come to terms with. There is a distance there, and it comforts him in the moment.
Then he thinks about what has always happened. After he debuted, after he and Tsubasa showed the strength of a group wanting to stick together, of friends keeping bonds forever, professionally... After that, the Juniors really started looking up to him.
And when their friends debut and they don't, sometimes they call him. They cry to their sempai, even though he doesn't feel that much older, even though he isn't that far removed.
His heart breaks. He never knows what to say. "Daijoubu" and "ganbare" don't mean a damn thing in that situation. He knows it. He's seen it happen to his dear friends, and he's seen that there's nothing to be done but to keep working and to keep up hope.
Then he feels guilty for being one of the ones that made it out, intact, successful, and with his best friend. He left people behind. He had to forgive himself for finding success.
He looks into the mirror again, into his eyes. They've turned glassy, wet. His lips draw into a tight, thin line. He forces the pleasant dreamer's smile back onto his face, but remembers the feeling.
It's a sad song, and he has to be convincing.
Fandom: Johnny's Entertainment
Characters: Takizawa Hideaki
Rating: ...E for emo?
Disclaimer: If Takki belonged to me, you would NEVER hear from me again, folks.
Summary: Takki has to find a way to make his acting completely believable. It requires a little introspection.
Notes: I was told that this couldn't be done, so I did it. 731 words. Dedicated to all of the beautiful ladies on my friend list who encourage my random ideas.
It's a sad song, and he has to be convincing.
He's an actor, of course, so he knows the mechanics. He's done it before, and he can do it again.
But then they told him to do it better. For three days in a row.
Because of him, the shooting is behind schedule. Tsubasa has managed, but Takki has not.
He stands in front of the mirror, looking himself over inch by inch. He's a little tired, and it shows in the slightest darkening of the skin around his eyes. The makeup could only cover it for so long.
His eyes go first to his hair. It is perfect, as always. Reflexively, he pushes a strand of it into a different place, simply because he feels like he should. His hairdresser for the shoot he had last week, he thinks, would have been very upset.
His brow furrows, then returns to normal.
He looks down at his hands.
Once, just after a concert, he returned to the dressing room to find a brightly-clothed lump sitting in the chair nearest the wall. The body shook, making light bounce off sequins that looked disgustingly gaudy in such a plain setting. He felt unable to speak once he realized who it was. Gently, he put a hand on Tsubasa's shoulder. Tsubasa shrugged it off and curled up tighter.
There were times after that, Takki remembers, when there was nothing he could do to lift his partner up. When they should have been celebrating, the older man worried about his popularity, claiming weekly that he was holding Takki back. The only thing Takki could do was to try to reassure him. It never worked.
Whatever changed along the way, whatever brought Tsubasa confidence, wasn't Takki's doing. It makes him feel helpless.
He brings his hands to his face and breathes deeply. Peering into the mirror again, he lets his hands slide down his bare chest and to his perfectly sculpted abs. He remembers that back when they were Juniors, everyone seemed to find his obsession with toning quite ridiculous.
Subaru, the stick of the whole group, seemed especially amused. In the dressing room, he would take every opportunity to jab Takki in said abs. The way his eyes lit up and the way he stifled cackles at Takki's reactions were charming.
Part of Takki, at this moment, when he runs his fingers over the tops of his hip bones, wants those times back. It was simpler then, when they were all just working as hard as they could to make it anywhere. No one was an enemy, competition was friendly, and they all took care of each other no matter what.
The Jimusho started talking to them, pitting them against each other, pairing them off and isolating certain boys, and everything fell apart. Takki was the head of the popular ones, and he had no choice but to keep going up. He wouldn't trade his life now for anything, but the ill feeling lingers.
In the mirror, there's a distinct dullness in his eyes. He feels pain somewhere deep inside, something akin to sorrow, but almost closer to regret that he has come to terms with. There is a distance there, and it comforts him in the moment.
Then he thinks about what has always happened. After he debuted, after he and Tsubasa showed the strength of a group wanting to stick together, of friends keeping bonds forever, professionally... After that, the Juniors really started looking up to him.
And when their friends debut and they don't, sometimes they call him. They cry to their sempai, even though he doesn't feel that much older, even though he isn't that far removed.
His heart breaks. He never knows what to say. "Daijoubu" and "ganbare" don't mean a damn thing in that situation. He knows it. He's seen it happen to his dear friends, and he's seen that there's nothing to be done but to keep working and to keep up hope.
Then he feels guilty for being one of the ones that made it out, intact, successful, and with his best friend. He left people behind. He had to forgive himself for finding success.
He looks into the mirror again, into his eyes. They've turned glassy, wet. His lips draw into a tight, thin line. He forces the pleasant dreamer's smile back onto his face, but remembers the feeling.
It's a sad song, and he has to be convincing.