Hajime no Insho
sho ni.
"So. What's your story?"
If only he could count the times he'd heard that question. It was the perfect conversation starter, especially when said conversation was between Takanori, the quietest person on the planet, and Akira, who had to have been the most curious man he'd ever met. A line like this was used when there wasn't much to say; when there were no commonalities, when neither person knew anything about the other.
But because they were now in a band together, Akira wanted to know about him. Which eliminated his typical response: smirk, light a cigarette, and wait for the curiosity to disappear. Which left the perfectly normal response, which would be to delve into every minute detail of the last twenty years of his life, and Takanori wasn't exactly an indulgent person. So he shrugged and was quiet for a minute, and then he looked up at the blond and quirked a small smile.
"I don't have a story."
Akira let out a short laugh; a huff of amusement, if anything. "Everyone has a story, though. Crazy friends, annoying family members." Another short laugh as Takanori shook his head, amused by the bassist. "No wild dreams of making it big or rubbing it in some asshole's face that you're famous?" He quirked an eyebrow, tried a lopsided smile, hopeful, and again he was denied by a persistent, albeit amused, Takanori. "Life for you must be boring, then, ne?"
The shorter man smiled. "Incredibly." An uncharasteric, quiet laughter escaped him. "You really want to know, hm?" He paused for a drag at his cigarette, and he grinned as the last of the smoke left his mouth. Akira nodded, and the only thing he was thinking was that Takanori's nonchalance was really fucking cool. "I've wanted to move to Tokyo for a while. Start a band, earn some fans, all that."
"So?"
"You were half-right. About the asshole, I mean." He allowed himself a short-lived smile before he took another puff, and then he frowned, crushing the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray closest to him. "My parents hated the idea, of course. They thought I'd be a good boy and be a doctor or a teacher or something, and have a stick up my ass." He shrugged. "Wasn't going to happen, so they told me to get the hell out."
"That...really sucks, man."
Takanori grinned. "Maybe, but it got me to Tokyo. My mother packed me a suitcase of clothes, and my father bought me a one-way ticket. Told me I’d find a cousin here or something.” He huffed. and then he turned his smirk-smile of intrigue onto Akira once more. "Haven't had family here for years. He's an idiot." Another short laugh, and for a moment, Akira thought Takanori's life was, for the most part, pitiful as hell. "But you guys took me in, so. I guess I get to rub it in his face when I'm famous, eh?"
"Have you ever opened up like that before?"
Takanori shook his head. "Not really. Maybe once or twice to a really devoted girlfriend. Nothing special." He shrugged, and his cool exterior, his nonchalance, had returned once more. Schoolgirl heart-to-heart over. "Turns out 'devoted' in some foreign language means 'I'd like to get in your pants' with no ifs, ands or buts about it." Akira raised an eyebrow; Takanori waved him off with a dismissing 'eh'.
"You... deserve better than that, though." He expected the slightly confused gaze directed at him, and he smiled a little. "I mean, I obviously barely know you, but you seem like a good guy." Takanori's eyebrow raised farther, disappearing first beneath the frames of his glasses and then beneath his fringe. "Good guys deserve people that care about them." He shrugged beneath Takanori's confused gaze.
Confusion became amusement, and then amusement became a genuine smile, and Takanori's eyebrows slowly drifted downward into their natural position. "You think I'm a good guy, eh?" Akira nodded, biting his lip a little, hiding the flush that had appeared in his face when he'd begun to think that he was being awkward. "You're not so bad yourself."
Akira smiled a little, and his eyes looked disbelieving. "Yeah? Um, thanks." Mentally, he was kicking himself. 'Peculiar' Takanori wasn't getting any less mysterious, and Akira had so far failed to crack his hard shell open for more than a few minutes. A short moment of semi-awkward laughter ensued, and he attempted a lopsided grin, which faltered the moment he heard a loud clang and an equally loud 'fuck' emit from somewhere inside the studio. Kouyou was being clumsy again.
"Bet you he was flirting with Tetora-kun and knocked over half my drum set." He flashed an exceptionally witty smirk-smile in Akira's direction, and then he straightened, shoving one hand into his pocket. "Idiot doesn't know right from left when it's anything but sex and guitars." He raised a peace sign in Akira's direction, and then he turned, chuckling, offering a, "See you tomorrow," over his shoulder.
Akira watched as he disappeared into the studio, heard him teasing Kouyou for a few short moments, and then the studio was silent. Kouyou was probably rolling his eyes, Tetora was probably indulging in the opportunity to snicker and watch from afar, and Akira took the chance to light his own cigarette, his brow furrowing. Stunned. What the hell was he stunned for?
Takanori had said 'you're not so bad yourself.' Maybe it was the bassist's unfamiliarity with receiving compliments so nonchalantly, as if each one were obvious.
He let out a small grunt as he flicked his lighter a few more times.
Takanori Matsumoto was a very confusing man.
If only he could count the times he'd heard that question. It was the perfect conversation starter, especially when said conversation was between Takanori, the quietest person on the planet, and Akira, who had to have been the most curious man he'd ever met. A line like this was used when there wasn't much to say; when there were no commonalities, when neither person knew anything about the other.
But because they were now in a band together, Akira wanted to know about him. Which eliminated his typical response: smirk, light a cigarette, and wait for the curiosity to disappear. Which left the perfectly normal response, which would be to delve into every minute detail of the last twenty years of his life, and Takanori wasn't exactly an indulgent person. So he shrugged and was quiet for a minute, and then he looked up at the blond and quirked a small smile.
"I don't have a story."
Akira let out a short laugh; a huff of amusement, if anything. "Everyone has a story, though. Crazy friends, annoying family members." Another short laugh as Takanori shook his head, amused by the bassist. "No wild dreams of making it big or rubbing it in some asshole's face that you're famous?" He quirked an eyebrow, tried a lopsided smile, hopeful, and again he was denied by a persistent, albeit amused, Takanori. "Life for you must be boring, then, ne?"
The shorter man smiled. "Incredibly." An uncharasteric, quiet laughter escaped him. "You really want to know, hm?" He paused for a drag at his cigarette, and he grinned as the last of the smoke left his mouth. Akira nodded, and the only thing he was thinking was that Takanori's nonchalance was really fucking cool. "I've wanted to move to Tokyo for a while. Start a band, earn some fans, all that."
"So?"
"You were half-right. About the asshole, I mean." He allowed himself a short-lived smile before he took another puff, and then he frowned, crushing the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray closest to him. "My parents hated the idea, of course. They thought I'd be a good boy and be a doctor or a teacher or something, and have a stick up my ass." He shrugged. "Wasn't going to happen, so they told me to get the hell out."
"That...really sucks, man."
Takanori grinned. "Maybe, but it got me to Tokyo. My mother packed me a suitcase of clothes, and my father bought me a one-way ticket. Told me I’d find a cousin here or something.” He huffed. and then he turned his smirk-smile of intrigue onto Akira once more. "Haven't had family here for years. He's an idiot." Another short laugh, and for a moment, Akira thought Takanori's life was, for the most part, pitiful as hell. "But you guys took me in, so. I guess I get to rub it in his face when I'm famous, eh?"
"Have you ever opened up like that before?"
Takanori shook his head. "Not really. Maybe once or twice to a really devoted girlfriend. Nothing special." He shrugged, and his cool exterior, his nonchalance, had returned once more. Schoolgirl heart-to-heart over. "Turns out 'devoted' in some foreign language means 'I'd like to get in your pants' with no ifs, ands or buts about it." Akira raised an eyebrow; Takanori waved him off with a dismissing 'eh'.
"You... deserve better than that, though." He expected the slightly confused gaze directed at him, and he smiled a little. "I mean, I obviously barely know you, but you seem like a good guy." Takanori's eyebrow raised farther, disappearing first beneath the frames of his glasses and then beneath his fringe. "Good guys deserve people that care about them." He shrugged beneath Takanori's confused gaze.
Confusion became amusement, and then amusement became a genuine smile, and Takanori's eyebrows slowly drifted downward into their natural position. "You think I'm a good guy, eh?" Akira nodded, biting his lip a little, hiding the flush that had appeared in his face when he'd begun to think that he was being awkward. "You're not so bad yourself."
Akira smiled a little, and his eyes looked disbelieving. "Yeah? Um, thanks." Mentally, he was kicking himself. 'Peculiar' Takanori wasn't getting any less mysterious, and Akira had so far failed to crack his hard shell open for more than a few minutes. A short moment of semi-awkward laughter ensued, and he attempted a lopsided grin, which faltered the moment he heard a loud clang and an equally loud 'fuck' emit from somewhere inside the studio. Kouyou was being clumsy again.
"Bet you he was flirting with Tetora-kun and knocked over half my drum set." He flashed an exceptionally witty smirk-smile in Akira's direction, and then he straightened, shoving one hand into his pocket. "Idiot doesn't know right from left when it's anything but sex and guitars." He raised a peace sign in Akira's direction, and then he turned, chuckling, offering a, "See you tomorrow," over his shoulder.
Akira watched as he disappeared into the studio, heard him teasing Kouyou for a few short moments, and then the studio was silent. Kouyou was probably rolling his eyes, Tetora was probably indulging in the opportunity to snicker and watch from afar, and Akira took the chance to light his own cigarette, his brow furrowing. Stunned. What the hell was he stunned for?
Takanori had said 'you're not so bad yourself.' Maybe it was the bassist's unfamiliarity with receiving compliments so nonchalantly, as if each one were obvious.
He let out a small grunt as he flicked his lighter a few more times.
Takanori Matsumoto was a very confusing man.