[KinKi AU] Butai verse, scene 1
This just flowed out of nowhere... But I thought I might as well get this out so I won't have pressure to complete it. =D; I don't think I can handle another solid AU as my abundance of free time these days may not last very long...
If anyone is interested in this verse, do feel free to follow up, or we can brainstorm together. ^^0
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Pairing: None so far
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Rating: G so far
Summary: Tsuyoshi joined the musical directed by Kouichi, with questionable motivation and a defensively guarded past.
[Edited 17 July 2012]
-- You Haven't Seen Him Move --
The pair of lukewarm eyes gave him a once-over, critical yet indifferent. "You're not very slender."
He held back a frown and stayed his gaze on that lean face. "You're not very polite."
"No offense, but that is one important factor."
He didn't reply; mentally, he shrugged. In the line of work he preferred he wouldn't have to deal with this kind of bias.
His agent shot him a disapproving look, then turned to their companion. "You haven't seen him move."
He felt the apathetic inspection running through his body again.
His agent signaled with a nod, and he frowned. "Here?"
It wasn't even a proper office, only a makeshift lobby with stacks of papers forming a low wall that offered no privacy from the throngs of studio staff shuffling around the building.
"No problem, is there?"
The other man didn't say anything.
He stood up, slightly annoyed, and took the space across the low table.
The song drifting from the house speakers was of entirely the wrong genre, but he knew he could make that work just as well.
Doumoto Tsuyoshi began to dance, slowly, purposefully, his internal rhythm beating to every other mark of the upbeat percussion.
He glanced up to see his judge's reaction, and caught the beginnings of a spark in the previously lifeless gaze.
Got you.
He stepped up the subtle twisting of his hips, the energy rippling through his supple limbs, obstinacy feeding his motivation more strongly than the questionable passion for the activity itself. His gaze pierced deliberately into the man's eyes, saw the pupils widen just a slight fraction at the recognition of the challenge.
Occupiers of the other partitions of the room began to turn to their direction, the scattered conversations blending into collective murmurs. Tsuyoshi sensed the curiosity and the judgment, but no longer cared, and he could tell his opponent was trying hard in pretending to match that nonchalance.
That Doumoto Kouichi hated to lose he had guessed at first sight; that the director's insides weren't made of ice he had not expected to find.
He halted from the distraction that he managed not to show on his face, and, recovering quickly, turned it into an accentuation to the triple turn he did next, building up to the pace of the bubbly radio music.
As soon as his foot landed at the end of the turn, his arms spread and ready to continue, Kouichi turned slightly to nod at his agent, who clapped once-- twice.
"That's enough, Tsuyoshi. Very good."
He withdrew his limbs with trained movements, purposeful to the slightest bend of fingers. Kouichi's cautious appraisal was on him for a few short seconds, then shifted to his agent.
"He'll do, for this show."
"Won't you consider a yearly contract?"
"We'll see." There was hardly a trace of the self-conscious side Tsuyoshi glimpsed earlier.
"I guess that is fine for now. Tsuyoshi, anything?"
"No. That's fine." He made a point to speak up and show off his firm, unswayed tone, even if a nod would've sufficed. He, too, hated to lose.
That earned him another glance, surely enough -- heated irises so far removed from the evading ones that had half-greeted him at the start of their meeting, that Tsuyoshi wondered if he'd been shown them on purpose or if the man himself wasn't aware just how much he was revealing.
Kouichi took his bag from the seat beside him, a sign that the discussion was over.
"Can you start right away?" The question was spoken directly to him this time.
He paused in the middle of taking his own bag. "Now?"
Kouichi checked his watch. "I booked a studio from eleven-thirty."
Something told him the competition was just beginning. "Sure."
His agent tapped his shoulder. "I'll keep in contact."
He nodded.
"I'll drive us there." The man turned, the long strides just as uncompromising.
Tsuyoshi followed, a measured half-step behind, a tense smirk to keep from licking his lips in anticipation.
---
If anyone is interested in this verse, do feel free to follow up, or we can brainstorm together. ^^0
Disclaimer: This is fictional.
Pairing: None so far
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Rating: G so far
Summary: Tsuyoshi joined the musical directed by Kouichi, with questionable motivation and a defensively guarded past.
[Edited 17 July 2012]
-- You Haven't Seen Him Move --
The pair of lukewarm eyes gave him a once-over, critical yet indifferent. "You're not very slender."
He held back a frown and stayed his gaze on that lean face. "You're not very polite."
"No offense, but that is one important factor."
He didn't reply; mentally, he shrugged. In the line of work he preferred he wouldn't have to deal with this kind of bias.
His agent shot him a disapproving look, then turned to their companion. "You haven't seen him move."
He felt the apathetic inspection running through his body again.
His agent signaled with a nod, and he frowned. "Here?"
It wasn't even a proper office, only a makeshift lobby with stacks of papers forming a low wall that offered no privacy from the throngs of studio staff shuffling around the building.
"No problem, is there?"
The other man didn't say anything.
He stood up, slightly annoyed, and took the space across the low table.
The song drifting from the house speakers was of entirely the wrong genre, but he knew he could make that work just as well.
Doumoto Tsuyoshi began to dance, slowly, purposefully, his internal rhythm beating to every other mark of the upbeat percussion.
He glanced up to see his judge's reaction, and caught the beginnings of a spark in the previously lifeless gaze.
Got you.
He stepped up the subtle twisting of his hips, the energy rippling through his supple limbs, obstinacy feeding his motivation more strongly than the questionable passion for the activity itself. His gaze pierced deliberately into the man's eyes, saw the pupils widen just a slight fraction at the recognition of the challenge.
Occupiers of the other partitions of the room began to turn to their direction, the scattered conversations blending into collective murmurs. Tsuyoshi sensed the curiosity and the judgment, but no longer cared, and he could tell his opponent was trying hard in pretending to match that nonchalance.
That Doumoto Kouichi hated to lose he had guessed at first sight; that the director's insides weren't made of ice he had not expected to find.
He halted from the distraction that he managed not to show on his face, and, recovering quickly, turned it into an accentuation to the triple turn he did next, building up to the pace of the bubbly radio music.
As soon as his foot landed at the end of the turn, his arms spread and ready to continue, Kouichi turned slightly to nod at his agent, who clapped once-- twice.
"That's enough, Tsuyoshi. Very good."
He withdrew his limbs with trained movements, purposeful to the slightest bend of fingers. Kouichi's cautious appraisal was on him for a few short seconds, then shifted to his agent.
"He'll do, for this show."
"Won't you consider a yearly contract?"
"We'll see." There was hardly a trace of the self-conscious side Tsuyoshi glimpsed earlier.
"I guess that is fine for now. Tsuyoshi, anything?"
"No. That's fine." He made a point to speak up and show off his firm, unswayed tone, even if a nod would've sufficed. He, too, hated to lose.
That earned him another glance, surely enough -- heated irises so far removed from the evading ones that had half-greeted him at the start of their meeting, that Tsuyoshi wondered if he'd been shown them on purpose or if the man himself wasn't aware just how much he was revealing.
Kouichi took his bag from the seat beside him, a sign that the discussion was over.
"Can you start right away?" The question was spoken directly to him this time.
He paused in the middle of taking his own bag. "Now?"
Kouichi checked his watch. "I booked a studio from eleven-thirty."
Something told him the competition was just beginning. "Sure."
His agent tapped his shoulder. "I'll keep in contact."
He nodded.
"I'll drive us there." The man turned, the long strides just as uncompromising.
Tsuyoshi followed, a measured half-step behind, a tense smirk to keep from licking his lips in anticipation.
---