Hajime no Insho
sho sanjuku.
“I can’t believe I always end up looking like the cheap whore.” Kouyou pouted, fussing with his garters, and huffed just a little as he examined himself in the mirror. “I mean, granted, I look good, but-“
“You look fine.” Yuu was grinning, and since ruffling the other guitarist’s carefully styled hair was not an option, he snickered and gave his rear a good smack instead. It earned him a stern glare, but he flashed a smile and pulled Kouyou to his side with one arm, and he was allowed a kiss when he turned his head to smile at him. “More than fine, I think.” He smiled again, taking a moment to look at the two of them in the mirror, and he gave Kouyou’s hip a squeeze.
“Mm, well you’re one to talk, considering how incredibly unfair it is that you look incredible in black.” He grinned as Yuu rolled his eyes, and he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And I really like your hair like that.” His voice had dropped to a murmur, low in Yuu’s ear, and he smiled a little as he leaned his head on the other guitarist’s shoulder. “It’s incredible, ne?”
Yuu nodded. “Yeah, it is.” He smiled, and then he bit his lip, just for a moment. “Never thought we’d be playing at the Budokan.”
“What, you thought we’d stay a small, clubs-only band forever?” Kouyou snorted, pulling away from him, picking up his makeup bag and deciding to quickly fix his appearance. “Not possible. Not with Kai-kun being the bandleader, anyway. He does it better than I ever did, anyway.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You weren’t in the bands before Gazette with me. Trust me; compared to me, he’s a god.” He released a half-snort, and he busied himself with brushing a layer of blush onto his cheeks. And he smiled a little when Yuu came up behind him, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed his cheek. “You think we’ll be able to pull this off, Yuu-kun?”
The dark-haired guitarist nodded, pressing kisses along Kouyou’s neckline. “Of course I do. Don’t worry so much, hm?” He smiled. “The live’s going to go perfectly, the fans aren’t going to boo us, and you’re going to perform excellently.” He let his fingers brush across the other guitarist’s torso, and he snickered as Kouyou set his brush down, turning around to face him. “I love you, by the way.”
Kouyou smiled, and he let his arms slip around Yuu’s neck, leaning in for a soft kiss and then pressing an additional one to the bridge of Yuu’s nose. “Love you too.”
“Alright ladies, seriously. Stop seducing each other in the dressing room. It’s time.”
Yuu turned his head to beam at Yutaka, winked, and snickered, returning his attention to Kouyou once the drummer had disappeared to find Akira and Takanori. He stole a final kiss, pulled away, and let Kouyou take his hand as the band walked to the entrance to the Budokan arena.
Takanori, Akira, and Yutaka weren’t far behind, and despite the fact that the band usually teased the singer about his boa, there was nothing said about it as they huddled together, their arms resting on each other’s backs, and there was a moment of silence among them as always as they each thanked higher powers for their luck and begged for the show to go on without a hitch.
They’d worked incredibly hard to reach this moment. They’d gone through years of touring in a small van, only barely being able to afford the occasional hotel, and now they had a name and a face and fans that were cheering for them, screaming the band’s name and the names of the members, and they were known. They’d struggled with money, and they’d lost lovers and they’d lost friends, but there was something about the band and the bonds within it that made it all worth it.
Takanori had said something about liberty once, and he’d written a song about finding it, and as they huddled together and even as they came up, the realization that they were close enough to their liberty to fucking touch it sank in. And they could look at each other and grin, and then the house lights dimmed, spotlight focused on the band’s point of entry, and for a single moment, time seemed to move in slow motion.
As each member stepped forward and walked toward the stage, among the sea of fans, there was an overwhelming anticipation that took them over. This was it; they were there. And wherever that specific ‘there’ was, it was somewhere that each of them had waited years to be. Two years before, Takanori had written a song about hoping and finding oneself, and he’d finally entitled that nameless feeling of exhilaration and freedom.
Tonight, they were allowed the barest taste of it.
Tonight, they had liberty.
“You look fine.” Yuu was grinning, and since ruffling the other guitarist’s carefully styled hair was not an option, he snickered and gave his rear a good smack instead. It earned him a stern glare, but he flashed a smile and pulled Kouyou to his side with one arm, and he was allowed a kiss when he turned his head to smile at him. “More than fine, I think.” He smiled again, taking a moment to look at the two of them in the mirror, and he gave Kouyou’s hip a squeeze.
“Mm, well you’re one to talk, considering how incredibly unfair it is that you look incredible in black.” He grinned as Yuu rolled his eyes, and he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And I really like your hair like that.” His voice had dropped to a murmur, low in Yuu’s ear, and he smiled a little as he leaned his head on the other guitarist’s shoulder. “It’s incredible, ne?”
Yuu nodded. “Yeah, it is.” He smiled, and then he bit his lip, just for a moment. “Never thought we’d be playing at the Budokan.”
“What, you thought we’d stay a small, clubs-only band forever?” Kouyou snorted, pulling away from him, picking up his makeup bag and deciding to quickly fix his appearance. “Not possible. Not with Kai-kun being the bandleader, anyway. He does it better than I ever did, anyway.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You weren’t in the bands before Gazette with me. Trust me; compared to me, he’s a god.” He released a half-snort, and he busied himself with brushing a layer of blush onto his cheeks. And he smiled a little when Yuu came up behind him, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed his cheek. “You think we’ll be able to pull this off, Yuu-kun?”
The dark-haired guitarist nodded, pressing kisses along Kouyou’s neckline. “Of course I do. Don’t worry so much, hm?” He smiled. “The live’s going to go perfectly, the fans aren’t going to boo us, and you’re going to perform excellently.” He let his fingers brush across the other guitarist’s torso, and he snickered as Kouyou set his brush down, turning around to face him. “I love you, by the way.”
Kouyou smiled, and he let his arms slip around Yuu’s neck, leaning in for a soft kiss and then pressing an additional one to the bridge of Yuu’s nose. “Love you too.”
“Alright ladies, seriously. Stop seducing each other in the dressing room. It’s time.”
Yuu turned his head to beam at Yutaka, winked, and snickered, returning his attention to Kouyou once the drummer had disappeared to find Akira and Takanori. He stole a final kiss, pulled away, and let Kouyou take his hand as the band walked to the entrance to the Budokan arena.
Takanori, Akira, and Yutaka weren’t far behind, and despite the fact that the band usually teased the singer about his boa, there was nothing said about it as they huddled together, their arms resting on each other’s backs, and there was a moment of silence among them as always as they each thanked higher powers for their luck and begged for the show to go on without a hitch.
They’d worked incredibly hard to reach this moment. They’d gone through years of touring in a small van, only barely being able to afford the occasional hotel, and now they had a name and a face and fans that were cheering for them, screaming the band’s name and the names of the members, and they were known. They’d struggled with money, and they’d lost lovers and they’d lost friends, but there was something about the band and the bonds within it that made it all worth it.
Takanori had said something about liberty once, and he’d written a song about finding it, and as they huddled together and even as they came up, the realization that they were close enough to their liberty to fucking touch it sank in. And they could look at each other and grin, and then the house lights dimmed, spotlight focused on the band’s point of entry, and for a single moment, time seemed to move in slow motion.
As each member stepped forward and walked toward the stage, among the sea of fans, there was an overwhelming anticipation that took them over. This was it; they were there. And wherever that specific ‘there’ was, it was somewhere that each of them had waited years to be. Two years before, Takanori had written a song about hoping and finding oneself, and he’d finally entitled that nameless feeling of exhilaration and freedom.
Tonight, they were allowed the barest taste of it.
Tonight, they had liberty.