Hajime no Insho
sho juyon.
Kouyou sounded exasperated when he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t know, Akira,” he said, and his voice was tired and quiet, and he sounded disheartened. “I mean, the band’s good and our first live was great and the crowd liked us and all, but. I just…don’t know.”
“You don’t think this band will last long?”
The guitarist shook his head almost miserably. “No, and we can’t keep forming new bands like this. It took fucking ages to get Ma’die off its feet, and it was just so…awkward when we disbanded.” He gave his friend a small, weary smile, and then the smile vanished and his head dropped back against the wall, his eyes closing. “We’re going to go bankrupt at this rate, and then we’re sure to get nowhere.”
“We’ve got Takanori, though; he’s one hell of a singer.” He gave a smile as Kouyou peeked an eye open to scoff at him, and Akira knew that the scoff meant ‘a good singer isn’t enough to make a band work’. “But…I think you’re right.” He picked up the drink he’d been nursing, and he took a good swig before letting his gaze sweep over to the small stage. Another sigh escaped him, and he drummed his fingers on the tabletop in what could be classified as boredom. The guitarist only seemed interested in opening his eyes to make sure he didn’t spill his drink, and he’d been tired and quiet since they’d arrived. So his attention drifting elsewhere wasn’t a mortal sin.
He watched as a band setup was placed and positioned on the stage, and he nudged Kouyou’s arm, earning a grunt in response. “Who’s the band playing tonight?”
“Artia.” The response was simple, and Kouyou didn’t bother to open his eyes to give it, nor did his head lift from its semi-comfortable position against the wall. “They’re somewhat well-known around here. They’re like the Ma’die Kusse of this corner of Tokyo. They only play the small places, though. Their fan base isn’t as solid as ours was.”
“Think they’re any good?”
Kouyou shrugged, his eyes barely opening for another swig of his drink, and then he grunted. Hell if I know. “Never heard them, so I can’t say for sure.” He yawned a bit, his almost-boredom reflecting Akira’s, and despite his nonchalant stature, his ears perked up when the band came to the stage and the vocalist introduced the band to the crowd.
And then they began to play, and Kouyou’s eyes opened, his head lifted from the wall, and his eyebrow lifted in interest as his gaze swept over the men on stage. They sounded better than he’d expected, and they seemed to function rather well as a group. They weren’t incredibly amazing, and he could probably point out a few flaws in their structure if he wanted to, but their music was enjoyable, and he couldn’t knock them for trying.
His gaze, naturally, caught on the guitarist, and his eyebrow lifted just a bit more as he watched the man on stage move with his guitar in ways that Kouyou really hadn’t seen many people do. Granted, the man’s hair color was something that Kouyou wouldn’t try for himself, but the man himself was, in short, fascinating. His fingers slid along the neck of his guitar effortlessly, and there was a small smirk on his mouth that suggested that he knew what he was doing and he was really only interested in showing off.
Akira looked over at him, and instantly, he snickered. “Interested in him, man?”
He scoffed. “Wouldn’t you be, if you wanted a guitarist in your band who could play like that?” The eyebrow was still raised, and Kouyou was half watching Akira and half watching the guitarist on stage.
And Akira thought it was amusing. “You really shouldn’t lie, Kouyou. You think he’s cute. Admit it.” He snickered again, and he received a glare and a prompt punch on the arm from the guitarist beside him, who seemed less than amused. “I mean, it’s okay to think of him like that; I’m not judging.” He snickered again, and this time, Kouyou merely rolled his eyes, took a swig of his drink, and chose to ignore the now chuckling bassist as he added, “It’d just be different if you actually knew his name.”
Kouyou sighed. “All right, fine. He’s attractive. Now shut up already; I’m trying to hear.” He glared as the bassist only continued to snigger, but covered his mouth to afford Kouyou just a bit more silence. And once more, his gaze returned to the guitarist on stage, and when the band on stage delved into a heavier part of the song, Kouyou’s eyebrow lifted considerably as the guitarist arched backward, taking his guitar with him, and then came back up with a sly grin on his mouth.
He had style, and he had grace, and he was probably one of the most attractive men that Kouyou had seen in a while. He had a full mouth, gorgeously pale skin, a slender torso, and long, lean legs. He was an absolute artist on stage, his body bending with the music and his hands drifting along the neck of his instrument and fingers brushing over the strings, and it was though the only thing that this man had ever learned how to do was create music.
Despite Akira’s snickering, the only thing that Kouyou could really hear was the band, and he smiled a little, and the bassist looked over at him, seeming a bit wary as though he could see the wheels turning in Kouyou’s head. His eyes narrowed as the bassist snapped his fingers in front of his face, still snickering, and he lifted an eyebrow. “What the hell do you want?”
“To bring you back to Earth, for one thing. Takashima, what the hell is going through your head?”
He grinned. “Akira, I think I’ve found us a backup plan.”
“You don’t think this band will last long?”
The guitarist shook his head almost miserably. “No, and we can’t keep forming new bands like this. It took fucking ages to get Ma’die off its feet, and it was just so…awkward when we disbanded.” He gave his friend a small, weary smile, and then the smile vanished and his head dropped back against the wall, his eyes closing. “We’re going to go bankrupt at this rate, and then we’re sure to get nowhere.”
“We’ve got Takanori, though; he’s one hell of a singer.” He gave a smile as Kouyou peeked an eye open to scoff at him, and Akira knew that the scoff meant ‘a good singer isn’t enough to make a band work’. “But…I think you’re right.” He picked up the drink he’d been nursing, and he took a good swig before letting his gaze sweep over to the small stage. Another sigh escaped him, and he drummed his fingers on the tabletop in what could be classified as boredom. The guitarist only seemed interested in opening his eyes to make sure he didn’t spill his drink, and he’d been tired and quiet since they’d arrived. So his attention drifting elsewhere wasn’t a mortal sin.
He watched as a band setup was placed and positioned on the stage, and he nudged Kouyou’s arm, earning a grunt in response. “Who’s the band playing tonight?”
“Artia.” The response was simple, and Kouyou didn’t bother to open his eyes to give it, nor did his head lift from its semi-comfortable position against the wall. “They’re somewhat well-known around here. They’re like the Ma’die Kusse of this corner of Tokyo. They only play the small places, though. Their fan base isn’t as solid as ours was.”
“Think they’re any good?”
Kouyou shrugged, his eyes barely opening for another swig of his drink, and then he grunted. Hell if I know. “Never heard them, so I can’t say for sure.” He yawned a bit, his almost-boredom reflecting Akira’s, and despite his nonchalant stature, his ears perked up when the band came to the stage and the vocalist introduced the band to the crowd.
And then they began to play, and Kouyou’s eyes opened, his head lifted from the wall, and his eyebrow lifted in interest as his gaze swept over the men on stage. They sounded better than he’d expected, and they seemed to function rather well as a group. They weren’t incredibly amazing, and he could probably point out a few flaws in their structure if he wanted to, but their music was enjoyable, and he couldn’t knock them for trying.
His gaze, naturally, caught on the guitarist, and his eyebrow lifted just a bit more as he watched the man on stage move with his guitar in ways that Kouyou really hadn’t seen many people do. Granted, the man’s hair color was something that Kouyou wouldn’t try for himself, but the man himself was, in short, fascinating. His fingers slid along the neck of his guitar effortlessly, and there was a small smirk on his mouth that suggested that he knew what he was doing and he was really only interested in showing off.
Akira looked over at him, and instantly, he snickered. “Interested in him, man?”
He scoffed. “Wouldn’t you be, if you wanted a guitarist in your band who could play like that?” The eyebrow was still raised, and Kouyou was half watching Akira and half watching the guitarist on stage.
And Akira thought it was amusing. “You really shouldn’t lie, Kouyou. You think he’s cute. Admit it.” He snickered again, and he received a glare and a prompt punch on the arm from the guitarist beside him, who seemed less than amused. “I mean, it’s okay to think of him like that; I’m not judging.” He snickered again, and this time, Kouyou merely rolled his eyes, took a swig of his drink, and chose to ignore the now chuckling bassist as he added, “It’d just be different if you actually knew his name.”
Kouyou sighed. “All right, fine. He’s attractive. Now shut up already; I’m trying to hear.” He glared as the bassist only continued to snigger, but covered his mouth to afford Kouyou just a bit more silence. And once more, his gaze returned to the guitarist on stage, and when the band on stage delved into a heavier part of the song, Kouyou’s eyebrow lifted considerably as the guitarist arched backward, taking his guitar with him, and then came back up with a sly grin on his mouth.
He had style, and he had grace, and he was probably one of the most attractive men that Kouyou had seen in a while. He had a full mouth, gorgeously pale skin, a slender torso, and long, lean legs. He was an absolute artist on stage, his body bending with the music and his hands drifting along the neck of his instrument and fingers brushing over the strings, and it was though the only thing that this man had ever learned how to do was create music.
Despite Akira’s snickering, the only thing that Kouyou could really hear was the band, and he smiled a little, and the bassist looked over at him, seeming a bit wary as though he could see the wheels turning in Kouyou’s head. His eyes narrowed as the bassist snapped his fingers in front of his face, still snickering, and he lifted an eyebrow. “What the hell do you want?”
“To bring you back to Earth, for one thing. Takashima, what the hell is going through your head?”
He grinned. “Akira, I think I’ve found us a backup plan.”