RP log: Atobe & Wakato
Nov. 23rd, 2005 06:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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tenipuri_xpDate: Backdated to Nov. 1, because we're slow that way. >>; Day after the TezuAto breakup and around the time the body was there. :D Yeah, that one.
Rating: PG-13 for kisses, touching and implied comfort!sex? :D;Poor Tezuka.
Summary: Atobe and Wakato go out for a night on the town; meaning, dinner and karaoke, and Wakato manages to wheedle out some potentially important information. Atobe finds his pleasant distraction for the evening, etc. FLUFF WARNING. :D;;;
It was probably a good thing he'd spent so much time onstage before coming to the institution, otherwise the training would've left Wakato ready to crash onto the nearest available soft surface. As it was, he was aching all over both from the physical exercise they were making him do to optimize the use of his mutation with some of the heavier machinery available--apparently the fine-touch training would come a little later.
Argh. Slavedrivers. He leaned heavily against the scroll on the bannister at the foot of the staircase. If Keigo didn't arrive soon, he was tempted to take that crashing option after all.
All the lights seemed to turn and shine on Atobe has the diva walked by. It almost seemed to be an attempt to comfort him. Showering him in light, naturally when shining a person could not feel upset. (Not that Atobe was upset, he was more... surprised.) But of course, Atobe Keigo was always shining. He didn't require help, but if the ornate chandeliers wished to bathe him in their light, who was Atobe to refuse?
That small two-dimensional figure in the back of his head let out a silent laugh, teasing him and saying how he was acting like Wakato. Closing his eyes momentarily, Atobe smiled back fondly, enjoying the soundless laugh of joy he received in return. The black shape appeared close to him, flat fingers hovering over his hair in a caress.
It was when he sensed the stairs near him that the diva withdrew from his mind, looking down the apathetically, smirking a little when his gaze rested on the exhausted redhead near the bottom. It seemed the other had gotten his first taste of the training all of the mutants had to go through. "If you are too tired than you should not have agreed to go exploring Hiroshi," Atobe spoke, making his way down. "No matter how desperate you are for ore-sama's company."
Well, it looked like the diva had finally arrived--and jeez, was he gathering the lights to him even more than usual? As far as Wakato remembered it wasn't even a part of the other's mutation, but hey, that was Atobe Keigo for you.
At Atobe's words his eyes narrowed and he straightened up, throwing the other a defiant glance. "You should learn by now that I don't take relaxation like normal people, Keigo." That, and he was curious to know what had his friend acting so oddly lately--there were no outward signs that he could tell, but Wakato was pretty sure that something was going down that he should know about, but no one would tell him anything... Well. He'd just have to make the best of it. "As for the company, I'd say that's simply a bonus." The grin that had broken out over his face took some of the sting out of his words.
A simple look of arrogance was shot in the direction of one Wakato Hiroshi as his long time friend, Atobe Keigo, walked past him. Heading further down the hall, Atobe allowed himself to indulge in Wakato, letting the other boy's presence flood him. He needed to focus on something. And what better than one of his closet friends? The one that was a complete opposite of his other friend that he was not going to think about tonight least he start projecting something he'd regret...
Rolling his eyes when Atobe breezed past him in one of his customary little quirks of manner, Wakato turned and with long loping strides caught up to his friend, who was already halfway out the door. It appeared the diva was somewhat eager to get going, although who knew where they were going? Not Wakato.
"I vote for dinner sometime soon," he piped up as they crossed the grounds--there was some sort of weird doll lying beside the primrose bushes, probably left over from Halloween, although he hadn't seen anyone decorating.
Paying no attention to the (possibly dead) body on the ground, Atobe kept up his pace enjoying the cool air around him. It was refreshing. It appeared his inner-voice didn't enjoy it because the being soon disappeared with a cringe, settling itself in one of the harder to reach areas of his mind. He could feel the content purrs of the creature rolling through his mind and vibrating through his body. At least someone was happy with the days events.
"Dinner does sound appealing," Atobe replied, absent-minded. He put his hand into his heavily furred jacket before slipping it back out, deciding against calling for his driver. It was time for some exercise, God knows he wasn't going to get it at the Brotherhood. "Any place in particular?"
Wakato reached out and plucked at Atobe's furry jacket--those always made him inexplicably happy, probably because the fur was so soft, and he was petting a diva, and... Yeah, maybe he was more tired than he thought. He gave the soft tufts around the collar a final smoothing pat before settling his pace at his friend's side.
"I don't know the neighborhood that well..." he said, casual as though he hadn't beenmolesting inspecting the other boy's dress a few seconds earlier. Hey, he had a excuse right to have a clothes!fetish. "Not gonna call for wheels?" A slight smirk, although Wakato was currently wondering about Atobe's state of mind--the evening was going differently than most of the ones he'd spent with his friend, which meant there was definitely something weighing on the other's mind. Hmm.
There was only one person in the world that ever petted his clothes (two if you considered the fact that Wakato had once invited a friend to join him in the petting of Atobe's clothes) and it never did much but make Atobe wonder about the sanity of his associates. Ah well, at least it wasn't the same old drone it was back home.(And sometimes, Atobe wasn't sure which he preferred.)
"Are you that tired?" A challenge, with a hidden layer of concern. If Wakato wanted to think Atobe worried about him, he was welcome to. Because honestly, there was no one else the empath could show such affection for. (No matter what appearances may be.)
Wakato laughed and rubbed briefly at his eyes, fingers ruffling his bangs, at the same time managing to keep up with Atobe's long stride. "Nah, I'm fine. The fresh air should wake me up in no time." Rolling his shoulders to work out the aches a little, the redhead stepped ahead and turned around, walking backwards as they approached the limit of the Brotherhood grounds. "Wanna just walk 'til we find a place to eat~?" He was willing to bet Atobe Keigo didn't often do things on a whim--the good and bad thing about having a lot of money was that you had people doing everything for you, including your
schedule.
"That was the plan wasn't it?" It might not have been. There hadn't been much planning that had gone into this outing. However, Atobe was sure that he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. And getting into thoughts that would ruin his mood (and therefore the evening) was completely out of the question. "Unless you can't last that long," Atobe mock frowned, and looked at Wakato out of the corner of his eye. "I'm beginning to doubt your stamina."
Wakato snorted derisively at that assertion, turning to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with Atobe again. "I've lasted this long. And that sounds like a challenge, Keigo." Laughing softly, he nudged his friend forward in the gathering dusk. "Let's get moving and warm before it gets cold."
The streets outside were quiet, blanketed with a susurrus of noise like the rustling of feathers in darkness. Within moments Wakato was drawn like a moth to one of the bright neon signs that began to cluster a few blocks from the mansion. Fingers against the glass and face reflected against the colorful display inside, he grinned at the sight of the latest fashions strewn over featureless mannequins and the glittering silver disco-balls throwing light over the immaculate backdrop. Man, he'd missed this aspect of the city, he really had.
A small frown settled over the face of Atobe has he took in the sight of his friend taken in by the bright lights and the tasteless fashion. Though, the diva wasn't much of an expert when it came to 'commoners' as he put it. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the path ahead of them. The flashes of colour reminded him of the multi-coloured candy wrappers that used to litter his floor, Halloween morning. He'd never let them be thrown away, instead have them painted together, in an odd stain glass picture. I suppose I too was a victim of the fake, bright thrill those colours provided.
Right now, Atobe was simply concerned with finding a place to eat and have a decent night. "That would require us to keep on pressing forward, Hiroshi."
Wakato had always liked shiny things; it was just part of his nature to be inspired by bold color and outrageous finery, the brilliant nighttime attractions of the city boulevard. He always had flashbacks about going shopping as a kid with his mother, how all the malls in the winter would look like castles decked in snow with their treasures snugly tucked away behind glass. It was really more of a gut feeling than any artistic(?) appreciation of the whole affair.
Chuckling at his friend's impatience, he came wandering back at his leisure, but ended with duly slipping his arm through Atobe's and moving on. There were plenty more things to see. "Hey, hey, what's the rush? We've got all the time in the world~" And maybe that was just the way Wakato saw the world--why rush when you could dawdle about and properly drink in the scenery?
"Do we?" Atobe raised a brow at the other. Shifting closer subtly, he let himself let out a sigh, his tired body in desperate need of food. "Were you not that one who said we should be there before it gets cold?" Nevermind the fact that, when going on a walk with Atobe Keigo, you focused on Atobe Keigo. It was simple really.
Wakato simply grinned in response, leaning over to steal a quick kiss and a little warmth before strolling onward as though nothing had happened. "What I meant by that was we should walk faster! Exercise gets you warm more comfortably than heating ever does, remember that."
Nevertheless, they were coming into the thick of the shopping district now, with restaurants abounding; there was at least one every few shops. "Now, d'you wanna pick? I don't know anything around here, so I'd just end up closing my eyes and pointing." There was a mischievous twinkle in the technopath's eye--that sounded like fun, all the same.
Allowing a pleased smile to replace the smirk he had on his lips, Atobe could already feel himself rejuvenating. He was still annoyed with the events that had taken place after the night with Tezuka and Shishido but Wakato seemed skilled in area of being an idiot. Atobe always had a fondness for idiots.
"You know I would never miss a chance to watch you make a fool of yourself," Atobe said, the smile carrying in his voice.
Wakato rolled his eyes at the words, but interpreted the affectionate tone for what it was. "Of course, I live to serve~" And he came to a stop on the frosty sidewalk and tugged his cap down over his eyes, then threw out his arm and pointed at random.
Peeking out from beneath his cap, he found that his finger had in fact landed on a restaurant; not fast food, luckily, because Atobe would probably have flat out refused to step foot in one of those, but one of those little sidewalk eateries that served fresh-made, simple fare meant to fill the stomach and warm the soul. Hmm, lucky... This looked like it was working out to be an excellent evening, and Wakato smirked at the stars. Positive alignment, or whatnot...
Atobe found that the store Wakato was pointing was very bad at all. Taking in the warm smell of a story of happiness and home. Frowning slightly he wondered how a smell could tell a story. "I'd rather take some food and go back out." Atobe announced, giving Wakato an inquisitive glance. "You?"
Wakato was amused--hadn't the blond also wanted to get here as soon as possible, now he was suggesting they leave? His tired legs were already protesting the additional strain, though, so he picked them a table and sprawled bonelessly across one of the plush-lined seats. There was a celery-green lamp throwing muted yellow light across the table--the whole place had an air of relaxed elegance. It was nice...
"Hmm, I wouldn't mind staying here for a while." He folded his arms behind his head, because damn, now that he was down he didn't feel like moving anymore. Atobe would have to carry him if he wanted him out of that seat.
Atobe smirked, Wakato was exhausted. It was probably bad enough that they'd walked all the way to the restaurant. As the diva sat down opposite of his friend he could feel warmth spreading through his own legs. An ache that he wasn't aware was there slowly leaving, it took all Atobe had not to simply slump and rest on the seat completely. There was a tinkle of laughter in the back of his mind, followed by chastising that no voice could produce.
"You should have said you were tired," Atobe stated simply. He didn't want to stay here, no matter how tired Wakato was. He wasn't in the mood to be in a restaurant that made him wonder if all the shops in the city looked the same and why on earth was he thinking about something that he obviously did not want to think about, which was why he was here in the first. Damn, that was one long thought.
Well, Atobe looked about as tired as he was; Wakato refrained from pointing that out, because all it would lead to was another one of those circular arguments that at the moment he hadn't the energy to win (and yes, he liked to win, what about it?). Stomach first, mouth later. Bit of a paradox, wasn't that now?
"Didn't feel tired." And it was the truth--the city had rejuvenated him in a fleeting way the warmth was now sapping. They would probably have been reduced to monosyllables before long had the waiter not appeared then. Wakato placed his order for pasta and ribs and waited for the diva to make his own selection.
Ordering a salad and chicken with rice, Atobe crossed his legs (something said legs disagreed with but reputation wouldn't allow them to get away with). They had better receive their quickly, Atobe was hungry and it was a known fact that no normal person should cross Atobe Keigo. It was a shame that money could only fix the smaller irritations of life and not the important ones.
Shifting to get more comfortable, the empath raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you?"
Wakato grinned and stuck out his tongue. "Nope, 'm made of steel here." Not precisely, no. Well, not yet, anyway. Who knew how far his mutation went?
The food arrived soon enough, rich and steaming; Wakato wrinkled his nose a little at Atobe's sparing fare before lighting up when his own dish was placed before him. The BBQ sauce glistening darkly on the ribs made his mouth water, and a clean, comfortable aroma rose from the ravioli. "Heh, the service here isn't bad, either~" Without further ado he had set to, only slowing down once he was halfway through each dish.
The service? Eyeing the the waitresses scuttling around the area, Atobe made a mental note to show Wakato a real restaurant one day. Something with class hopefully. However, with the way the boy was eating, the empath wondered if he'd even be allowed in. Daintily picking up his own fork he began to pick at his own food, not showing his hunger. "I suppose."
Atobe had his 'this-is-very-far-below-me' look plastered all over his face. Not to be mistaken for his 'this-is-below-me' or 'this-is-far-below-me' look. Wakato huffed good-naturedly, too content in his food to start an argument at the moment, but hey, at least the diva was eating. Like a princess forced to pick at scraps, but nevertheless, that was food disappearing molecule by molecule off his plate.
"Didn't you wanna get out of here? If you eat like that, we'll be here all night." And he was already done with one of his plates, too. Feeling refreshed--he actually would be ready to go out into the world again after this without falling over--Wakato leaned back and slowed down a little, taking the time to savor the subtle sprinkle of cheese and olive oil in the pasta.
Damn it, couldn't normal people understand that sometimes things were more complicated than simple want? The diva wanted to get out of the restaurant but, surely, didn't want to look like a pig while doing it. Even as he was thinking that, Atobe felt it was funny. Sometimes, he'd say (or think) things that he knew sounded ridiculous, but of course Atobe was very talented in making things sound as if they were necessary to be said. Obviously, they were not.
"I'll be finished by the time you are," Atobe replied tersely, challenging smirk on his lips. "I assure you."
"I'm holding you to that~" Laughing, Wakato returned to his own meal, idly contemplating the way the green light fell on Atobe's hair in a weird blend of color that made the diva look like he was under concert spotlights. Hmm, Atobe singing... He hadn't heard that in a while, maybe they should make rounds on the karaoke circuit for a while?
Tucking the idea away in his mind for future reference, Wakato concentrated on finishing his dinner, wondering with no little amusement what would happen if he finished before Atobe. Was it a challenge? Would the blond then owe him something? Wakato smirked at the thought--and ate a little faster.
Ignoring the possible scheming that might have been occurring inside Wakato's head, Atobe continued to eat at his casual pace. He'd finish in time. That much was guaranteed. Rolling his tongue over the small pieces of rice the empath regretted not asking for it to be flavoured for a second. The thought of chicken flavoured rice was absolutely mouth-watering (had Atobe allowed himself to stoop so low, anyway).
Taking his mind off the planning of future meals when his current one had not even been finished, the blond turned his attention to his companion. "What do you plan on doing after dinner?" The food should be enough to rejuvenate the redhead into wanting to do something 'fun'.
Well, what do you know--Atobe was psychic. Oh, right. Chuckling to himself at the irony, Wakato put down his fork with a certain studied care and then leaned back in the seat, folding his arms behind his head of bright hair and winking. "I was thinking we could do some karaoke, unwind a little."
That, and Atobe didn't look like he was enjoying this as much as he should. Wakato pursed his lips a little at the remaining touch of pinch in his friend's expression; nobody had any business being a spoilsport while he was around. "What say you to that, eh?"
Karaoke? What was Wakato thinking asking Atobe to use his heavenly voice for karaoke? But still, the teen hadn't sung a good song for ages. He missed the feeling of music running through his body, eventually up his throat and out his mouth. His voice felt dry and unused, ignored. The diva had always taken special care of his voice, practicing and preforming regularly until life had decided to take a dump on him. And after that, the mutation prevented singing from being a part of his life. Now however, now the crushing weight of his power wasn't that immense.
"What do I say to that?" Atobe murmured, taking another bite, almost ready to finish his meal. "I say its not a bad idea coming from you."
Wakato was picking the last pieces off his plate, and once he'd finished he beamed at Atobe from under his cap that was slightly askew from all the shifting around he'd been doing during the meal. "That's the spirit. You ready to go?"
He was surprised to find how much he was looking forward to the next leg of their outing. It had really been too long since he'd done anything so mundane and plain ordinary fun with the other and Wakato found he had missed this easy camaraderie that could stretch endlessly through the lamplit evenings. Besides that, Atobe was a damned good singer, although his ego was big enough already without anyone having to tell him so.
Atobe pushed away from the table, sliding out from his seat before nodding. "Of course, I told I would finish in time, did I not?" Just because the food was not finished, didn't mean that Atobe wasn't. A fact, the diva had thought was obvious. Certainly with that knowledge Wakato wouldn't have challenged him to something so absolutely silly?
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he raised a brow. "Neither you or I know this city very well. How you plan on finding a place for karaoke?"
Wakato rolled his eyes at the waste of food, although it wasn't even very good food, from his point of view--typical diva, but he wouldn't be Atobe if he didn't do that. Not normal Atobe, anyway. Feeling even more pleased with the way the evening was going--it appeared they were both properly relaxed, now, and that was the best way to go--the redhead stood as well and made his way to the other boy's side, smiling. "Hey, it's the commercial district of the city. We're bound to come across the karaoke sooner or later, eh?" Why worry about it if you didn't need to? They had the whole evening ahead of them, too.
And sure enough, as they stepped out of the shop, Wakato scanned the horizon and found a promising flash amid where the myriad of neon lights was concentrated thickest--was that a music note? "What'd I tell ya?" Slipping his arm through Atobe's, he quickened his step in that direction, trailing fogged breath.
Ah, that was the point of this evening wasn't it though? To roam around the city and familiarize themselves with it. It seemed it wouldn't be too hard of a task, however, as everything seemed to be conveniently squished together. Perhaps, the thought ran through Atobe's mind casually, as he flicked his eyes over the signs and people, the city wasn't all that large at all. It seems to me this place does nothing but blow things out of proportion, the empath thought arrogantly.
The prospect of singing lightened up his mood nevertheless, whether in front of aristocrats or commoners. "Never doubted you, Hiroshi."
Wakato chuckled, and the hand in Atobe's slipped out and up, playing with the soft tickling dark hairs at the diva's nape, subtly affectionate. "As you shouldn't." They passed brightly lit shops and now and then a dark alley, but whatwith the cold the poor and homeless were not in evidence to ruin the mood. One might have called it almost idyllically romantic, had Wakato been the type, but as it was the redhead just smirked to himself and dragged his friend to all the mostly beautifully lit shops along the way.
By the time they arrived in the thick of the nightlife, where you could practically get dizzy from the amount of lights that flashed before you and out of the corner of your eye, Wakato had bought them both long bead necklaces with amber and feathered ornaments, odd and exotic and trailing, and draped them all over both their necks so that it was hard to tell where redhead ended and diva began. In this manner they wandered into the long line of karaoke spots crowded along one side of the boulevard, where the crowd itself was large and boisterous enough to get lost in.
Atobe's cool fingers ran over the even cooler beads decorating his neck before he smirked, and murmured something to his companion. Something that was said for the sake of saying something, but having no real meaning. Stepping calmly through the crowd a short, challenging glare was shot to anyone who dare get in his way.
His arm and Wakato's hooked, so that the diva would not lose the redhead. It would not do if the blond had to search in the crowd. "Enterance." Atobe said simply, nodding in the direction.
These were the times Wakato was especially thankful to be tall (jeez, who wanted to be short, anyway?), because he could just elbow his way through the crowd and still be able to see where he was going. Brown beads caught the blue light shafting through the doorway like water gems and he led them both tinkling and rustling up to the double-paned glass entrance of one of the more respectable-looking places on the boulevard (respectable, as in not with flaking paint or small and dinky and squeezed in between two larger establishments).
The beautiful singer on his arm deserved (and would accept) only the best, after all. Smiling to himself, the redhead steered the pair to the receptionist's counter to arrange for a booth.
With a flash of his shiny credit card (which, incidentally, was almost as shiny as he was) Atobe paid for they're booth very much expecting Wakato to make it up to him later. It still puzzled him as to why he should have to pay when it was obviously him doing them a favour. It was most likely that the people could not wrap they're simply minds around the concept.
Wakato almost laughed at the faintly disgruntled expression on Atobe's face as they made their way to the booth, which was suitably appointed for the slight above-average price, with muted elegant paneling and well-maintained equipment. Well, if the diva was going to be like that... A song ought to loosen him up, right? And it had really been a while since Wakato had had the leisure to sing just for the heck of it, without worrying about forgetting the lyrics or the movements, just improvisation--he'd kind of missed it.
The lighting was dim enough that going onstage felt natural in the absence of spotlights and all the gimmicks, and the redhead smirked over the microphone at his companion on the couch lining the back of the room. He opened his mouth and murmured a little, carefully tuning his voice--the amount of control he had (or didn't have) over his powers meant that the microphone's resonance had seeped into him like water into a sponge. It'd be better for everyone's eardrums in the long run.
The song Wakato had picked started up, a steady staccato beat, but when he sang his voice connected the stuttering music with long, lazy syllables.
When you're feeling all wrong in the back of your mind again
How does it feel?
When you drop down
Everything's all the same
Oh, yeah
Saccharine, caffeine, nicotine gum
All tastes sweet but it's not for long
And I just think you thought it would be
He swayed in time to the song, slipping his hat off his head with a casual gesture.
And when you're looking for truth on the cover of a magazine
How does it feel?
When you found out what you're not going to be
Oh, yeah
They give you your image and the things you believe
Open your eyes, tell me what did you see
And I just think you thought it so real
And how does it feel when you're out on your own?
And now it's too late to go home
And it's hard to be free when you're down on your knees
Take it easy 'til you make it alone
He was laughing in the back of his mind at how appropriate the song was for their situation--mutants who in this world could not become anything, unless they fought for it themselves--for who would help such creatures?--and even then the reward was merely a compromise, or something less than that. Throwing his head back, Wakato smirked at the ceiling and the dim confused contours of the room as he sang.
Now your supermarket, punk rock, television, comedy
Out on the scene
Yeah, I been down now there's no hand to feed
Oh, yeah
And all the beautiful images lining your walls
Pop radio screaming down the halls
And now you think you found something real
When it's all about money and the things that you need
Live a big lie and they all believe
And I just find that somehow obscene
He'd closed his eyes at some point. It was easier to perform this way; pity he didn't get any blind roles! And maybe Wakato had found that the best way to survive was to pretend, acting onstage and off--nothing got to bother you that way. Nope, nothing at all. And maybe he knew he wasn't facing reality all the time, not running away but maybe not there in the first place... And maybe him singing this song, even, was just a little hypocritical, but hey, who was keeping tabs?
Atobe sighed, leaning back and listening to the song. It was easier to listen to the song than it was to the other mutant's voice. The thought wasn't meant to be insulting, just that if he listened to Wakato's voice, chances were he'd begin to doze off. And so, the only other option was to focus on the lyrics rather than the sound.
And coincidence, certainly the smaller boy would sing such a song on purpose? It was too... harsh-reality for Atobe's taste. But then, that was the way Wakato lived the diva supposed. Even as a friend of his, the redhead's lifestyle was completely opposite to that of Atobe's. Though not completely, it seemed that the complete opposite of Wakato would be Tezuka...
It's all been said before
And all been done
Take it easy 'til you make it alone
Take it easy 'til you make it alone
The music was winding down, slowly, and Wakato slapped his cap back onto his head as he lowered the microphone slightly, murmuring into it now.
'Cause lies weigh more than truth
Innocence looks good on you
Now everybody wants to know your name
La na na na na
La na na na na...
The song ended and the redhead opened his eyes, grinning with sheer exhilaration and bright-eyed from the exertion, looking directly at the diva in the back of the room as he dropped into a grandiose bow and then leaped off the stage, coming to tug Atobe from his seat with mischievous fingers and claiming a deep, satisfying kiss--it was only fair~ "Your turn..." was murmured into the diva's mouth in a breath or a chuckle, it was difficult to determine just which it was.
Brushing his lips over the shorter mutant's for a while Atobe smirked while heading over to he machine, he supposed that was one way to warm-up his mouth. Not that Atobe needed any sort of preparation when singing; his voice was naturally beautiful. He sighed, smirk never leaving his lips, from what he'd heard from others such displays of affection were supposed to make your voice weak and shaky. Fairy tales.
Running his eyes dispassionately over the mic the diva wondered what song to preform. Trifling through the old ones (most likely from the '70s or later) the blond came across a familiar name followed by a familiar song. He hadn't ever sung it before, in fact he'd never sung a single song by the artist but he supposed there was no harm in trying something new. Pressing the necessary buttons, Atobe closed his eyes as the music began. As he waited for his cue he could already begin to feel the barest hint of a tug in his heart as the raindrops of emotion showered it.
Carving into your skin, I sigh.
A delicate shaking silhouette.
Eyes that are stolen from you,
What is captured inside them?
Touch if you want to see.
Everything is taken... it's better this way.
`Cause I need to know.
Embrace my shaking body.
Now my throbbing pulse can be heard.
The midnight sun shows a dramatic love scene.
My spirit holds a secret.
He could feel other words invading his thoughts, almost as if they were trying to distract him from what he was singing. Was he supposed to feel sad? Not for the person the artist was singing for but himself most likely. The idea was preposterous, Atobe didn't rely on the emotions of others, not when he was, what he was.
Touch until it's broken down.
Love is changing you.
`Cause I need to hold.
Focusing on the sound of the song, Atobe tried to match his voice with that of the original singers. Something very difficult. The empath's voice was smooth and soft, and not very deep. The voice he was trying to match (not imitate in any way, that was Wakato's job) was strong, clear stringing hope into the dreariest of settings. Atobe found he cared not enough to worry about being able to do something like that.
Wakato lay sprawled bonelessly across the cool leather the couch, rubbing absently at the flush left in his cheeks still from his stint at the microphone, and the subsequent kiss. He could feel the silky flow of the song wrapping around him and pouring through his muscles like a caress--Atobe really did have a good voice, even if Wakato hadn't heard him sing all that often.
A faint wrinkle appeared between the redhead's brows, though, as the song went on. Normally it didn't occur to him to question the motives behind a song, especially a love song, unless the person or the circumstances called for it. Atobe being who he was, Wakato would not have given the heartfelt feeling in the voice a second thought, if they hadn't been accompanied by a quiet undercurrent of sorrow--not quite enough to be invasive, but far more than Atobe would usually allow his powers to slip.
Coupled with the other little things out of place Wakato had been noticing all evening and so forth, it... made him uneasy. He filed it away in his mind for future reference and sank back into the song.
Leaning back comfortably, Atobe found that his own voice was making him relax. This song was short and meant to be sung with carefully placed emotion. Something bold, and strong. Every time his voice welled up with something he found that he didn't tense up, rather sighed (mentally of course) contently. It was something truthful, refreshing, and yet the cold rain of emotion rained harder still.
Touch if you can finish.
It's okay if every thing's lost.
Touch because it's breaking down.
Love is changing me.
His throat twitter almost, breathing out the last verse in near broken whispers. His voice at its strongest.
Everything...
Love is...
Wakato felt a sigh breathing from his own parted lips as the song ended, so softly as to be entirely inaudible, yet he didn't feel the need to lean forward to catch the last syllables because the music (and perhaps a drop or two of Atobe's powers) carried the feeling straight to his core. It was a nice song--very nice, even. Trust the diva to come up with something like this, that contrasted in such a stark yet appropriate way with Wakato's bitter and almost harsh rendition earlier.
In the hush in the wake of the music dying away, Wakato stood slowly and crossed the room to take the hand of the singer, dropping a kiss to the back of Atobe's hand with a slight smile that seeped laughter into his eyes as he looked up and drew the blond from the stage with their linked hands. "Mm, I wouldn't mind spending the night away like this~"
"Mm..." Atobe replied wordlessly, still somewhat caught in the melody of the song. He moved his fingers over he others, would it spread the buzz running through him? Belatedly, Atobe realized that he was an empath and he should use his power for such tasks. "The songs here are hardly deserving." The diva replied, his voice a low murmur. "But this break as been good, making it longer isn't a problem with me."
"After that, though," Wakato was now leading the way back to the couches, smirking at the feel of Atobe's fingers playing between his; for some reason it amused him that the diva was so touchy-feely tonight, "I could use a drink, eh?" He ordered iced teas for both of them and took the initiative to tip the girl who brought them.
A long, icy draught later, he was idly contemplating the swirls of light and color on the water that had beaded from the tall glasses and dripped to the tabletop. "Hey... tell me what's been going on?" It was said softly, casually, but it was also the culmination of the sense of things slightly-out-place that had been building up all evening. He also suddenly remembered something he'd been meaning to ask. "And what's up with you and that grumpy toast guy, anyway?"
"Nothing much apparently," Atobe snorted, running a finger up and down the smooth side of the glass. No, he was not bitter about being dumped (though he would never claim it as such), he didn't care at all that there was a chance that Tezuka had no feelings for him whatsoever and he was just a fool in love projecting his feelings for the world to see and apparently think of as their own. There was not a single drop of emotion regarding any of that in Atobe's heart. Not one.
Wakato had only heard Atobe speak in that tone of voice when he was talking about his parents. And even then, his voice had never been so curiously flat. It was a futile exercise, ultimately, because when you were an empath, strong emotions tended to get through regardless of how you modulated your exterior. And Wakato had been around Atobe's powers for far too long to be deceived, in any case.
"Apparently?" he repeated with raised eyebrow, because a statement like that was just entirely too suspicious not to pry at, whether you knew the person well or not. At the same time the redhead reached absently for Atobe's hand, bringing the finger that had been stroking the glass to his mouth and sucking off the moisture, cool and fresh against his tongue.
Wakato's raised eyebrow was returned with one of Atobe's own. If the two of them were planning on having any heartfelt and emotional conversations it seemed that Wakato planned on keeping it interesting, as if the fact that they were in a karaoke bar wasn't odd enough. And Atobe certainly had no objections, he'd said before that he loved the way the redhead clearly expressed what he wanted without shame. He needed a spark of colour in his life after all.
"Apparently," Atobe replied, not planning on answering any unspoken questions. Not this evening. Hooking the finger around the back of the others teeth, he brought the face closer to his own, intent gleaming deviously in his eyes.
Wakato chuckled quietly as he was tugged forward, and when he was close enough brought his mouth to Atobe's, licking briefly at the diva's lower lip, and the intervening finger before reaching up and pulling it away, giving him full access to the other's mouth. It felt good to be this comfortable around someone else, and even if he wasn't the type to worry overtly about such things, it was relaxing not to have to wonder about just exactly where the boundaries of friendship lay.
Pulling back after a moment to sip some more of his drink and chase the slight haze from his senses, Wakato settled himself more comfortably against the blond and played with his straw for a moment, giving himself a breather, quite literally. "So, what did happen between you and the toast guy that's making you avoid the subject, hmm?" There, he was putting it bluntly, a little tired of dancing around the subject no matter how... interesting the digressions got.
"Mm..." Almost slumping against the other, Atobe let one of his hands dance over Wakato's closest arm. It seemed that Wakato was being persistent to find out about Tezuka and himself. Then again, Atobe couldn't remember a time when the redhead wasn't being persistent. The other always had the need to be involved and kept informed of everything that was going on. Not in the was of gossiping but in a form of curiosity perhaps. Atobe wasn't quite sure what Wakato wanted out of it, simply that he didn't mind.
And right now, he wasn't exactly sure what Wakato wanted to know concerning him and Tezuka. Did he want to know the entire story from start to end? Or a summary of everything that had happened between them? Perhaps he didn't care about that at all and simply wanted to know if it was the bespectacled boy that had put Atobe into such an odd mood. Deciding not to use his customary 'whatever do you mean?' the empath decided to be blunt. "We used to have sex," he stated, a free finger moving back to the glass, "now we don't."
Wakato squirmed a little at the light fleeting touches up his arm, feeling goosebumps start up as his skin demanded more contact. When the hand reached his shoulder, he cocked his head and nipped at it for teasing.
He blinked a little at Atobe's statement of the situation, slightly startled. "Was it just sex, then?" From what he knew of his friend, Atobe wasn't the type to get hung up on something like that--if he was, then Wakato didn't know the blond as well as he thought... which was not a good or bad thing, just surprising. Nevertheless, at least he was finally getting somewhere. Red hair tickled against Atobe's jawbone as Wakato ducked under the arm that had been playing over his and bit down just in the hollow of a slender collarbone, not hard enough to draw blood, but just a nibble like a delicacy.
Leaning his head back, Atobe could feel his skin stretching uncomfortably tight over his neck. The dizzying rush of blood leaving his head could be felt even with such a slight movement, merely showing how weak the human body was. However... they weren't human were they? Some were built and designed like humans... but none of them really were. It was odd, to be thought of as inhuman. For the first time Atobe found that the thought bothered him, just a little.
A swift turn to the side, followed by the clunking of the diva's chin against the redhead's head caused Atobe to smirk. Moving his nose and lips over the side of the other boy's head he stopped when the ear was level with his lip. Opening his mouth, he breathed hotly, "apparently."
Wakato jumped at Atobe's sudden movement, scowling a little as he felt his scalp tingling from the impact, but forgot about it soon enough with the sudden rush of hot air in his ear that seemed to blow his thoughts straight through his head and out the other side. Ahhh, bastard...
Turning his head, he caught the offending mouth with his own, losing a moan into the kiss somewhere as his body molded itself against Atobe's, hands grasping at fabric and beads and feathers to bring the other closer.
Atobe let out a mental laugh at Wakato's enthusiasm. It seemed the other boy had given up on his previous task, once again, not that Atobe minded. It was rare for the redhead to do something that the empath wasn't ok with. On the other hand, one would really have to go out of their if they wanted to get the boy pissed. The diva found himself not caring about what others thought of did, he was above them all.
Pulling away from the kiss, the blond ran a hot tongue over flushed lips. "Brotherhood."
The flush in his cheeks was probably way too noticeable to come off anytime soon, and there was an odd buzzing in his ears, but Wakato smirked right back at Atobe without missing a beat, one hand freeing itself from where it had slid up the other mutant's shirt. "Let's."
Rating: PG-13 for kisses, touching and implied comfort!sex? :D;
Summary: Atobe and Wakato go out for a night on the town; meaning, dinner and karaoke, and Wakato manages to wheedle out some potentially important information. Atobe finds his pleasant distraction for the evening, etc. FLUFF WARNING. :D;;;
It was probably a good thing he'd spent so much time onstage before coming to the institution, otherwise the training would've left Wakato ready to crash onto the nearest available soft surface. As it was, he was aching all over both from the physical exercise they were making him do to optimize the use of his mutation with some of the heavier machinery available--apparently the fine-touch training would come a little later.
Argh. Slavedrivers. He leaned heavily against the scroll on the bannister at the foot of the staircase. If Keigo didn't arrive soon, he was tempted to take that crashing option after all.
All the lights seemed to turn and shine on Atobe has the diva walked by. It almost seemed to be an attempt to comfort him. Showering him in light, naturally when shining a person could not feel upset. (Not that Atobe was upset, he was more... surprised.) But of course, Atobe Keigo was always shining. He didn't require help, but if the ornate chandeliers wished to bathe him in their light, who was Atobe to refuse?
That small two-dimensional figure in the back of his head let out a silent laugh, teasing him and saying how he was acting like Wakato. Closing his eyes momentarily, Atobe smiled back fondly, enjoying the soundless laugh of joy he received in return. The black shape appeared close to him, flat fingers hovering over his hair in a caress.
It was when he sensed the stairs near him that the diva withdrew from his mind, looking down the apathetically, smirking a little when his gaze rested on the exhausted redhead near the bottom. It seemed the other had gotten his first taste of the training all of the mutants had to go through. "If you are too tired than you should not have agreed to go exploring Hiroshi," Atobe spoke, making his way down. "No matter how desperate you are for ore-sama's company."
Well, it looked like the diva had finally arrived--and jeez, was he gathering the lights to him even more than usual? As far as Wakato remembered it wasn't even a part of the other's mutation, but hey, that was Atobe Keigo for you.
At Atobe's words his eyes narrowed and he straightened up, throwing the other a defiant glance. "You should learn by now that I don't take relaxation like normal people, Keigo." That, and he was curious to know what had his friend acting so oddly lately--there were no outward signs that he could tell, but Wakato was pretty sure that something was going down that he should know about, but no one would tell him anything... Well. He'd just have to make the best of it. "As for the company, I'd say that's simply a bonus." The grin that had broken out over his face took some of the sting out of his words.
A simple look of arrogance was shot in the direction of one Wakato Hiroshi as his long time friend, Atobe Keigo, walked past him. Heading further down the hall, Atobe allowed himself to indulge in Wakato, letting the other boy's presence flood him. He needed to focus on something. And what better than one of his closet friends? The one that was a complete opposite of his other friend that he was not going to think about tonight least he start projecting something he'd regret...
Rolling his eyes when Atobe breezed past him in one of his customary little quirks of manner, Wakato turned and with long loping strides caught up to his friend, who was already halfway out the door. It appeared the diva was somewhat eager to get going, although who knew where they were going? Not Wakato.
"I vote for dinner sometime soon," he piped up as they crossed the grounds--there was some sort of weird doll lying beside the primrose bushes, probably left over from Halloween, although he hadn't seen anyone decorating.
Paying no attention to the (possibly dead) body on the ground, Atobe kept up his pace enjoying the cool air around him. It was refreshing. It appeared his inner-voice didn't enjoy it because the being soon disappeared with a cringe, settling itself in one of the harder to reach areas of his mind. He could feel the content purrs of the creature rolling through his mind and vibrating through his body. At least someone was happy with the days events.
"Dinner does sound appealing," Atobe replied, absent-minded. He put his hand into his heavily furred jacket before slipping it back out, deciding against calling for his driver. It was time for some exercise, God knows he wasn't going to get it at the Brotherhood. "Any place in particular?"
Wakato reached out and plucked at Atobe's furry jacket--those always made him inexplicably happy, probably because the fur was so soft, and he was petting a diva, and... Yeah, maybe he was more tired than he thought. He gave the soft tufts around the collar a final smoothing pat before settling his pace at his friend's side.
"I don't know the neighborhood that well..." he said, casual as though he hadn't been
There was only one person in the world that ever petted his clothes (two if you considered the fact that Wakato had once invited a friend to join him in the petting of Atobe's clothes) and it never did much but make Atobe wonder about the sanity of his associates. Ah well, at least it wasn't the same old drone it was back home.(And sometimes, Atobe wasn't sure which he preferred.)
"Are you that tired?" A challenge, with a hidden layer of concern. If Wakato wanted to think Atobe worried about him, he was welcome to. Because honestly, there was no one else the empath could show such affection for. (No matter what appearances may be.)
Wakato laughed and rubbed briefly at his eyes, fingers ruffling his bangs, at the same time managing to keep up with Atobe's long stride. "Nah, I'm fine. The fresh air should wake me up in no time." Rolling his shoulders to work out the aches a little, the redhead stepped ahead and turned around, walking backwards as they approached the limit of the Brotherhood grounds. "Wanna just walk 'til we find a place to eat~?" He was willing to bet Atobe Keigo didn't often do things on a whim--the good and bad thing about having a lot of money was that you had people doing everything for you, including your
schedule.
"That was the plan wasn't it?" It might not have been. There hadn't been much planning that had gone into this outing. However, Atobe was sure that he couldn't keep his thoughts straight. And getting into thoughts that would ruin his mood (and therefore the evening) was completely out of the question. "Unless you can't last that long," Atobe mock frowned, and looked at Wakato out of the corner of his eye. "I'm beginning to doubt your stamina."
Wakato snorted derisively at that assertion, turning to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with Atobe again. "I've lasted this long. And that sounds like a challenge, Keigo." Laughing softly, he nudged his friend forward in the gathering dusk. "Let's get moving and warm before it gets cold."
The streets outside were quiet, blanketed with a susurrus of noise like the rustling of feathers in darkness. Within moments Wakato was drawn like a moth to one of the bright neon signs that began to cluster a few blocks from the mansion. Fingers against the glass and face reflected against the colorful display inside, he grinned at the sight of the latest fashions strewn over featureless mannequins and the glittering silver disco-balls throwing light over the immaculate backdrop. Man, he'd missed this aspect of the city, he really had.
A small frown settled over the face of Atobe has he took in the sight of his friend taken in by the bright lights and the tasteless fashion. Though, the diva wasn't much of an expert when it came to 'commoners' as he put it. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the path ahead of them. The flashes of colour reminded him of the multi-coloured candy wrappers that used to litter his floor, Halloween morning. He'd never let them be thrown away, instead have them painted together, in an odd stain glass picture. I suppose I too was a victim of the fake, bright thrill those colours provided.
Right now, Atobe was simply concerned with finding a place to eat and have a decent night. "That would require us to keep on pressing forward, Hiroshi."
Wakato had always liked shiny things; it was just part of his nature to be inspired by bold color and outrageous finery, the brilliant nighttime attractions of the city boulevard. He always had flashbacks about going shopping as a kid with his mother, how all the malls in the winter would look like castles decked in snow with their treasures snugly tucked away behind glass. It was really more of a gut feeling than any artistic(?) appreciation of the whole affair.
Chuckling at his friend's impatience, he came wandering back at his leisure, but ended with duly slipping his arm through Atobe's and moving on. There were plenty more things to see. "Hey, hey, what's the rush? We've got all the time in the world~" And maybe that was just the way Wakato saw the world--why rush when you could dawdle about and properly drink in the scenery?
"Do we?" Atobe raised a brow at the other. Shifting closer subtly, he let himself let out a sigh, his tired body in desperate need of food. "Were you not that one who said we should be there before it gets cold?" Nevermind the fact that, when going on a walk with Atobe Keigo, you focused on Atobe Keigo. It was simple really.
Wakato simply grinned in response, leaning over to steal a quick kiss and a little warmth before strolling onward as though nothing had happened. "What I meant by that was we should walk faster! Exercise gets you warm more comfortably than heating ever does, remember that."
Nevertheless, they were coming into the thick of the shopping district now, with restaurants abounding; there was at least one every few shops. "Now, d'you wanna pick? I don't know anything around here, so I'd just end up closing my eyes and pointing." There was a mischievous twinkle in the technopath's eye--that sounded like fun, all the same.
Allowing a pleased smile to replace the smirk he had on his lips, Atobe could already feel himself rejuvenating. He was still annoyed with the events that had taken place after the night with Tezuka and Shishido but Wakato seemed skilled in area of being an idiot. Atobe always had a fondness for idiots.
"You know I would never miss a chance to watch you make a fool of yourself," Atobe said, the smile carrying in his voice.
Wakato rolled his eyes at the words, but interpreted the affectionate tone for what it was. "Of course, I live to serve~" And he came to a stop on the frosty sidewalk and tugged his cap down over his eyes, then threw out his arm and pointed at random.
Peeking out from beneath his cap, he found that his finger had in fact landed on a restaurant; not fast food, luckily, because Atobe would probably have flat out refused to step foot in one of those, but one of those little sidewalk eateries that served fresh-made, simple fare meant to fill the stomach and warm the soul. Hmm, lucky... This looked like it was working out to be an excellent evening, and Wakato smirked at the stars. Positive alignment, or whatnot...
Atobe found that the store Wakato was pointing was very bad at all. Taking in the warm smell of a story of happiness and home. Frowning slightly he wondered how a smell could tell a story. "I'd rather take some food and go back out." Atobe announced, giving Wakato an inquisitive glance. "You?"
Wakato was amused--hadn't the blond also wanted to get here as soon as possible, now he was suggesting they leave? His tired legs were already protesting the additional strain, though, so he picked them a table and sprawled bonelessly across one of the plush-lined seats. There was a celery-green lamp throwing muted yellow light across the table--the whole place had an air of relaxed elegance. It was nice...
"Hmm, I wouldn't mind staying here for a while." He folded his arms behind his head, because damn, now that he was down he didn't feel like moving anymore. Atobe would have to carry him if he wanted him out of that seat.
Atobe smirked, Wakato was exhausted. It was probably bad enough that they'd walked all the way to the restaurant. As the diva sat down opposite of his friend he could feel warmth spreading through his own legs. An ache that he wasn't aware was there slowly leaving, it took all Atobe had not to simply slump and rest on the seat completely. There was a tinkle of laughter in the back of his mind, followed by chastising that no voice could produce.
"You should have said you were tired," Atobe stated simply. He didn't want to stay here, no matter how tired Wakato was. He wasn't in the mood to be in a restaurant that made him wonder if all the shops in the city looked the same and why on earth was he thinking about something that he obviously did not want to think about, which was why he was here in the first. Damn, that was one long thought.
Well, Atobe looked about as tired as he was; Wakato refrained from pointing that out, because all it would lead to was another one of those circular arguments that at the moment he hadn't the energy to win (and yes, he liked to win, what about it?). Stomach first, mouth later. Bit of a paradox, wasn't that now?
"Didn't feel tired." And it was the truth--the city had rejuvenated him in a fleeting way the warmth was now sapping. They would probably have been reduced to monosyllables before long had the waiter not appeared then. Wakato placed his order for pasta and ribs and waited for the diva to make his own selection.
Ordering a salad and chicken with rice, Atobe crossed his legs (something said legs disagreed with but reputation wouldn't allow them to get away with). They had better receive their quickly, Atobe was hungry and it was a known fact that no normal person should cross Atobe Keigo. It was a shame that money could only fix the smaller irritations of life and not the important ones.
Shifting to get more comfortable, the empath raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you?"
Wakato grinned and stuck out his tongue. "Nope, 'm made of steel here." Not precisely, no. Well, not yet, anyway. Who knew how far his mutation went?
The food arrived soon enough, rich and steaming; Wakato wrinkled his nose a little at Atobe's sparing fare before lighting up when his own dish was placed before him. The BBQ sauce glistening darkly on the ribs made his mouth water, and a clean, comfortable aroma rose from the ravioli. "Heh, the service here isn't bad, either~" Without further ado he had set to, only slowing down once he was halfway through each dish.
The service? Eyeing the the waitresses scuttling around the area, Atobe made a mental note to show Wakato a real restaurant one day. Something with class hopefully. However, with the way the boy was eating, the empath wondered if he'd even be allowed in. Daintily picking up his own fork he began to pick at his own food, not showing his hunger. "I suppose."
Atobe had his 'this-is-very-far-below-me' look plastered all over his face. Not to be mistaken for his 'this-is-below-me' or 'this-is-far-below-me' look. Wakato huffed good-naturedly, too content in his food to start an argument at the moment, but hey, at least the diva was eating. Like a princess forced to pick at scraps, but nevertheless, that was food disappearing molecule by molecule off his plate.
"Didn't you wanna get out of here? If you eat like that, we'll be here all night." And he was already done with one of his plates, too. Feeling refreshed--he actually would be ready to go out into the world again after this without falling over--Wakato leaned back and slowed down a little, taking the time to savor the subtle sprinkle of cheese and olive oil in the pasta.
Damn it, couldn't normal people understand that sometimes things were more complicated than simple want? The diva wanted to get out of the restaurant but, surely, didn't want to look like a pig while doing it. Even as he was thinking that, Atobe felt it was funny. Sometimes, he'd say (or think) things that he knew sounded ridiculous, but of course Atobe was very talented in making things sound as if they were necessary to be said. Obviously, they were not.
"I'll be finished by the time you are," Atobe replied tersely, challenging smirk on his lips. "I assure you."
"I'm holding you to that~" Laughing, Wakato returned to his own meal, idly contemplating the way the green light fell on Atobe's hair in a weird blend of color that made the diva look like he was under concert spotlights. Hmm, Atobe singing... He hadn't heard that in a while, maybe they should make rounds on the karaoke circuit for a while?
Tucking the idea away in his mind for future reference, Wakato concentrated on finishing his dinner, wondering with no little amusement what would happen if he finished before Atobe. Was it a challenge? Would the blond then owe him something? Wakato smirked at the thought--and ate a little faster.
Ignoring the possible scheming that might have been occurring inside Wakato's head, Atobe continued to eat at his casual pace. He'd finish in time. That much was guaranteed. Rolling his tongue over the small pieces of rice the empath regretted not asking for it to be flavoured for a second. The thought of chicken flavoured rice was absolutely mouth-watering (had Atobe allowed himself to stoop so low, anyway).
Taking his mind off the planning of future meals when his current one had not even been finished, the blond turned his attention to his companion. "What do you plan on doing after dinner?" The food should be enough to rejuvenate the redhead into wanting to do something 'fun'.
Well, what do you know--Atobe was psychic. Oh, right. Chuckling to himself at the irony, Wakato put down his fork with a certain studied care and then leaned back in the seat, folding his arms behind his head of bright hair and winking. "I was thinking we could do some karaoke, unwind a little."
That, and Atobe didn't look like he was enjoying this as much as he should. Wakato pursed his lips a little at the remaining touch of pinch in his friend's expression; nobody had any business being a spoilsport while he was around. "What say you to that, eh?"
Karaoke? What was Wakato thinking asking Atobe to use his heavenly voice for karaoke? But still, the teen hadn't sung a good song for ages. He missed the feeling of music running through his body, eventually up his throat and out his mouth. His voice felt dry and unused, ignored. The diva had always taken special care of his voice, practicing and preforming regularly until life had decided to take a dump on him. And after that, the mutation prevented singing from being a part of his life. Now however, now the crushing weight of his power wasn't that immense.
"What do I say to that?" Atobe murmured, taking another bite, almost ready to finish his meal. "I say its not a bad idea coming from you."
Wakato was picking the last pieces off his plate, and once he'd finished he beamed at Atobe from under his cap that was slightly askew from all the shifting around he'd been doing during the meal. "That's the spirit. You ready to go?"
He was surprised to find how much he was looking forward to the next leg of their outing. It had really been too long since he'd done anything so mundane and plain ordinary fun with the other and Wakato found he had missed this easy camaraderie that could stretch endlessly through the lamplit evenings. Besides that, Atobe was a damned good singer, although his ego was big enough already without anyone having to tell him so.
Atobe pushed away from the table, sliding out from his seat before nodding. "Of course, I told I would finish in time, did I not?" Just because the food was not finished, didn't mean that Atobe wasn't. A fact, the diva had thought was obvious. Certainly with that knowledge Wakato wouldn't have challenged him to something so absolutely silly?
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he raised a brow. "Neither you or I know this city very well. How you plan on finding a place for karaoke?"
Wakato rolled his eyes at the waste of food, although it wasn't even very good food, from his point of view--typical diva, but he wouldn't be Atobe if he didn't do that. Not normal Atobe, anyway. Feeling even more pleased with the way the evening was going--it appeared they were both properly relaxed, now, and that was the best way to go--the redhead stood as well and made his way to the other boy's side, smiling. "Hey, it's the commercial district of the city. We're bound to come across the karaoke sooner or later, eh?" Why worry about it if you didn't need to? They had the whole evening ahead of them, too.
And sure enough, as they stepped out of the shop, Wakato scanned the horizon and found a promising flash amid where the myriad of neon lights was concentrated thickest--was that a music note? "What'd I tell ya?" Slipping his arm through Atobe's, he quickened his step in that direction, trailing fogged breath.
Ah, that was the point of this evening wasn't it though? To roam around the city and familiarize themselves with it. It seemed it wouldn't be too hard of a task, however, as everything seemed to be conveniently squished together. Perhaps, the thought ran through Atobe's mind casually, as he flicked his eyes over the signs and people, the city wasn't all that large at all. It seems to me this place does nothing but blow things out of proportion, the empath thought arrogantly.
The prospect of singing lightened up his mood nevertheless, whether in front of aristocrats or commoners. "Never doubted you, Hiroshi."
Wakato chuckled, and the hand in Atobe's slipped out and up, playing with the soft tickling dark hairs at the diva's nape, subtly affectionate. "As you shouldn't." They passed brightly lit shops and now and then a dark alley, but whatwith the cold the poor and homeless were not in evidence to ruin the mood. One might have called it almost idyllically romantic, had Wakato been the type, but as it was the redhead just smirked to himself and dragged his friend to all the mostly beautifully lit shops along the way.
By the time they arrived in the thick of the nightlife, where you could practically get dizzy from the amount of lights that flashed before you and out of the corner of your eye, Wakato had bought them both long bead necklaces with amber and feathered ornaments, odd and exotic and trailing, and draped them all over both their necks so that it was hard to tell where redhead ended and diva began. In this manner they wandered into the long line of karaoke spots crowded along one side of the boulevard, where the crowd itself was large and boisterous enough to get lost in.
Atobe's cool fingers ran over the even cooler beads decorating his neck before he smirked, and murmured something to his companion. Something that was said for the sake of saying something, but having no real meaning. Stepping calmly through the crowd a short, challenging glare was shot to anyone who dare get in his way.
His arm and Wakato's hooked, so that the diva would not lose the redhead. It would not do if the blond had to search in the crowd. "Enterance." Atobe said simply, nodding in the direction.
These were the times Wakato was especially thankful to be tall (jeez, who wanted to be short, anyway?), because he could just elbow his way through the crowd and still be able to see where he was going. Brown beads caught the blue light shafting through the doorway like water gems and he led them both tinkling and rustling up to the double-paned glass entrance of one of the more respectable-looking places on the boulevard (respectable, as in not with flaking paint or small and dinky and squeezed in between two larger establishments).
The beautiful singer on his arm deserved (and would accept) only the best, after all. Smiling to himself, the redhead steered the pair to the receptionist's counter to arrange for a booth.
With a flash of his shiny credit card (which, incidentally, was almost as shiny as he was) Atobe paid for they're booth very much expecting Wakato to make it up to him later. It still puzzled him as to why he should have to pay when it was obviously him doing them a favour. It was most likely that the people could not wrap they're simply minds around the concept.
Wakato almost laughed at the faintly disgruntled expression on Atobe's face as they made their way to the booth, which was suitably appointed for the slight above-average price, with muted elegant paneling and well-maintained equipment. Well, if the diva was going to be like that... A song ought to loosen him up, right? And it had really been a while since Wakato had had the leisure to sing just for the heck of it, without worrying about forgetting the lyrics or the movements, just improvisation--he'd kind of missed it.
The lighting was dim enough that going onstage felt natural in the absence of spotlights and all the gimmicks, and the redhead smirked over the microphone at his companion on the couch lining the back of the room. He opened his mouth and murmured a little, carefully tuning his voice--the amount of control he had (or didn't have) over his powers meant that the microphone's resonance had seeped into him like water into a sponge. It'd be better for everyone's eardrums in the long run.
The song Wakato had picked started up, a steady staccato beat, but when he sang his voice connected the stuttering music with long, lazy syllables.
When you're feeling all wrong in the back of your mind again
How does it feel?
When you drop down
Everything's all the same
Oh, yeah
Saccharine, caffeine, nicotine gum
All tastes sweet but it's not for long
And I just think you thought it would be
He swayed in time to the song, slipping his hat off his head with a casual gesture.
And when you're looking for truth on the cover of a magazine
How does it feel?
When you found out what you're not going to be
Oh, yeah
They give you your image and the things you believe
Open your eyes, tell me what did you see
And I just think you thought it so real
And how does it feel when you're out on your own?
And now it's too late to go home
And it's hard to be free when you're down on your knees
Take it easy 'til you make it alone
He was laughing in the back of his mind at how appropriate the song was for their situation--mutants who in this world could not become anything, unless they fought for it themselves--for who would help such creatures?--and even then the reward was merely a compromise, or something less than that. Throwing his head back, Wakato smirked at the ceiling and the dim confused contours of the room as he sang.
Now your supermarket, punk rock, television, comedy
Out on the scene
Yeah, I been down now there's no hand to feed
Oh, yeah
And all the beautiful images lining your walls
Pop radio screaming down the halls
And now you think you found something real
When it's all about money and the things that you need
Live a big lie and they all believe
And I just find that somehow obscene
He'd closed his eyes at some point. It was easier to perform this way; pity he didn't get any blind roles! And maybe Wakato had found that the best way to survive was to pretend, acting onstage and off--nothing got to bother you that way. Nope, nothing at all. And maybe he knew he wasn't facing reality all the time, not running away but maybe not there in the first place... And maybe him singing this song, even, was just a little hypocritical, but hey, who was keeping tabs?
Atobe sighed, leaning back and listening to the song. It was easier to listen to the song than it was to the other mutant's voice. The thought wasn't meant to be insulting, just that if he listened to Wakato's voice, chances were he'd begin to doze off. And so, the only other option was to focus on the lyrics rather than the sound.
And coincidence, certainly the smaller boy would sing such a song on purpose? It was too... harsh-reality for Atobe's taste. But then, that was the way Wakato lived the diva supposed. Even as a friend of his, the redhead's lifestyle was completely opposite to that of Atobe's. Though not completely, it seemed that the complete opposite of Wakato would be Tezuka...
It's all been said before
And all been done
Take it easy 'til you make it alone
Take it easy 'til you make it alone
The music was winding down, slowly, and Wakato slapped his cap back onto his head as he lowered the microphone slightly, murmuring into it now.
'Cause lies weigh more than truth
Innocence looks good on you
Now everybody wants to know your name
La na na na na
La na na na na...
The song ended and the redhead opened his eyes, grinning with sheer exhilaration and bright-eyed from the exertion, looking directly at the diva in the back of the room as he dropped into a grandiose bow and then leaped off the stage, coming to tug Atobe from his seat with mischievous fingers and claiming a deep, satisfying kiss--it was only fair~ "Your turn..." was murmured into the diva's mouth in a breath or a chuckle, it was difficult to determine just which it was.
Brushing his lips over the shorter mutant's for a while Atobe smirked while heading over to he machine, he supposed that was one way to warm-up his mouth. Not that Atobe needed any sort of preparation when singing; his voice was naturally beautiful. He sighed, smirk never leaving his lips, from what he'd heard from others such displays of affection were supposed to make your voice weak and shaky. Fairy tales.
Running his eyes dispassionately over the mic the diva wondered what song to preform. Trifling through the old ones (most likely from the '70s or later) the blond came across a familiar name followed by a familiar song. He hadn't ever sung it before, in fact he'd never sung a single song by the artist but he supposed there was no harm in trying something new. Pressing the necessary buttons, Atobe closed his eyes as the music began. As he waited for his cue he could already begin to feel the barest hint of a tug in his heart as the raindrops of emotion showered it.
Carving into your skin, I sigh.
A delicate shaking silhouette.
Eyes that are stolen from you,
What is captured inside them?
Touch if you want to see.
Everything is taken... it's better this way.
`Cause I need to know.
Embrace my shaking body.
Now my throbbing pulse can be heard.
The midnight sun shows a dramatic love scene.
My spirit holds a secret.
He could feel other words invading his thoughts, almost as if they were trying to distract him from what he was singing. Was he supposed to feel sad? Not for the person the artist was singing for but himself most likely. The idea was preposterous, Atobe didn't rely on the emotions of others, not when he was, what he was.
Touch until it's broken down.
Love is changing you.
`Cause I need to hold.
Focusing on the sound of the song, Atobe tried to match his voice with that of the original singers. Something very difficult. The empath's voice was smooth and soft, and not very deep. The voice he was trying to match (not imitate in any way, that was Wakato's job) was strong, clear stringing hope into the dreariest of settings. Atobe found he cared not enough to worry about being able to do something like that.
Wakato lay sprawled bonelessly across the cool leather the couch, rubbing absently at the flush left in his cheeks still from his stint at the microphone, and the subsequent kiss. He could feel the silky flow of the song wrapping around him and pouring through his muscles like a caress--Atobe really did have a good voice, even if Wakato hadn't heard him sing all that often.
A faint wrinkle appeared between the redhead's brows, though, as the song went on. Normally it didn't occur to him to question the motives behind a song, especially a love song, unless the person or the circumstances called for it. Atobe being who he was, Wakato would not have given the heartfelt feeling in the voice a second thought, if they hadn't been accompanied by a quiet undercurrent of sorrow--not quite enough to be invasive, but far more than Atobe would usually allow his powers to slip.
Coupled with the other little things out of place Wakato had been noticing all evening and so forth, it... made him uneasy. He filed it away in his mind for future reference and sank back into the song.
Leaning back comfortably, Atobe found that his own voice was making him relax. This song was short and meant to be sung with carefully placed emotion. Something bold, and strong. Every time his voice welled up with something he found that he didn't tense up, rather sighed (mentally of course) contently. It was something truthful, refreshing, and yet the cold rain of emotion rained harder still.
Touch if you can finish.
It's okay if every thing's lost.
Touch because it's breaking down.
Love is changing me.
His throat twitter almost, breathing out the last verse in near broken whispers. His voice at its strongest.
Everything...
Love is...
Wakato felt a sigh breathing from his own parted lips as the song ended, so softly as to be entirely inaudible, yet he didn't feel the need to lean forward to catch the last syllables because the music (and perhaps a drop or two of Atobe's powers) carried the feeling straight to his core. It was a nice song--very nice, even. Trust the diva to come up with something like this, that contrasted in such a stark yet appropriate way with Wakato's bitter and almost harsh rendition earlier.
In the hush in the wake of the music dying away, Wakato stood slowly and crossed the room to take the hand of the singer, dropping a kiss to the back of Atobe's hand with a slight smile that seeped laughter into his eyes as he looked up and drew the blond from the stage with their linked hands. "Mm, I wouldn't mind spending the night away like this~"
"Mm..." Atobe replied wordlessly, still somewhat caught in the melody of the song. He moved his fingers over he others, would it spread the buzz running through him? Belatedly, Atobe realized that he was an empath and he should use his power for such tasks. "The songs here are hardly deserving." The diva replied, his voice a low murmur. "But this break as been good, making it longer isn't a problem with me."
"After that, though," Wakato was now leading the way back to the couches, smirking at the feel of Atobe's fingers playing between his; for some reason it amused him that the diva was so touchy-feely tonight, "I could use a drink, eh?" He ordered iced teas for both of them and took the initiative to tip the girl who brought them.
A long, icy draught later, he was idly contemplating the swirls of light and color on the water that had beaded from the tall glasses and dripped to the tabletop. "Hey... tell me what's been going on?" It was said softly, casually, but it was also the culmination of the sense of things slightly-out-place that had been building up all evening. He also suddenly remembered something he'd been meaning to ask. "And what's up with you and that grumpy toast guy, anyway?"
"Nothing much apparently," Atobe snorted, running a finger up and down the smooth side of the glass. No, he was not bitter about being dumped (though he would never claim it as such), he didn't care at all that there was a chance that Tezuka had no feelings for him whatsoever and he was just a fool in love projecting his feelings for the world to see and apparently think of as their own. There was not a single drop of emotion regarding any of that in Atobe's heart. Not one.
Wakato had only heard Atobe speak in that tone of voice when he was talking about his parents. And even then, his voice had never been so curiously flat. It was a futile exercise, ultimately, because when you were an empath, strong emotions tended to get through regardless of how you modulated your exterior. And Wakato had been around Atobe's powers for far too long to be deceived, in any case.
"Apparently?" he repeated with raised eyebrow, because a statement like that was just entirely too suspicious not to pry at, whether you knew the person well or not. At the same time the redhead reached absently for Atobe's hand, bringing the finger that had been stroking the glass to his mouth and sucking off the moisture, cool and fresh against his tongue.
Wakato's raised eyebrow was returned with one of Atobe's own. If the two of them were planning on having any heartfelt and emotional conversations it seemed that Wakato planned on keeping it interesting, as if the fact that they were in a karaoke bar wasn't odd enough. And Atobe certainly had no objections, he'd said before that he loved the way the redhead clearly expressed what he wanted without shame. He needed a spark of colour in his life after all.
"Apparently," Atobe replied, not planning on answering any unspoken questions. Not this evening. Hooking the finger around the back of the others teeth, he brought the face closer to his own, intent gleaming deviously in his eyes.
Wakato chuckled quietly as he was tugged forward, and when he was close enough brought his mouth to Atobe's, licking briefly at the diva's lower lip, and the intervening finger before reaching up and pulling it away, giving him full access to the other's mouth. It felt good to be this comfortable around someone else, and even if he wasn't the type to worry overtly about such things, it was relaxing not to have to wonder about just exactly where the boundaries of friendship lay.
Pulling back after a moment to sip some more of his drink and chase the slight haze from his senses, Wakato settled himself more comfortably against the blond and played with his straw for a moment, giving himself a breather, quite literally. "So, what did happen between you and the toast guy that's making you avoid the subject, hmm?" There, he was putting it bluntly, a little tired of dancing around the subject no matter how... interesting the digressions got.
"Mm..." Almost slumping against the other, Atobe let one of his hands dance over Wakato's closest arm. It seemed that Wakato was being persistent to find out about Tezuka and himself. Then again, Atobe couldn't remember a time when the redhead wasn't being persistent. The other always had the need to be involved and kept informed of everything that was going on. Not in the was of gossiping but in a form of curiosity perhaps. Atobe wasn't quite sure what Wakato wanted out of it, simply that he didn't mind.
And right now, he wasn't exactly sure what Wakato wanted to know concerning him and Tezuka. Did he want to know the entire story from start to end? Or a summary of everything that had happened between them? Perhaps he didn't care about that at all and simply wanted to know if it was the bespectacled boy that had put Atobe into such an odd mood. Deciding not to use his customary 'whatever do you mean?' the empath decided to be blunt. "We used to have sex," he stated, a free finger moving back to the glass, "now we don't."
Wakato squirmed a little at the light fleeting touches up his arm, feeling goosebumps start up as his skin demanded more contact. When the hand reached his shoulder, he cocked his head and nipped at it for teasing.
He blinked a little at Atobe's statement of the situation, slightly startled. "Was it just sex, then?" From what he knew of his friend, Atobe wasn't the type to get hung up on something like that--if he was, then Wakato didn't know the blond as well as he thought... which was not a good or bad thing, just surprising. Nevertheless, at least he was finally getting somewhere. Red hair tickled against Atobe's jawbone as Wakato ducked under the arm that had been playing over his and bit down just in the hollow of a slender collarbone, not hard enough to draw blood, but just a nibble like a delicacy.
Leaning his head back, Atobe could feel his skin stretching uncomfortably tight over his neck. The dizzying rush of blood leaving his head could be felt even with such a slight movement, merely showing how weak the human body was. However... they weren't human were they? Some were built and designed like humans... but none of them really were. It was odd, to be thought of as inhuman. For the first time Atobe found that the thought bothered him, just a little.
A swift turn to the side, followed by the clunking of the diva's chin against the redhead's head caused Atobe to smirk. Moving his nose and lips over the side of the other boy's head he stopped when the ear was level with his lip. Opening his mouth, he breathed hotly, "apparently."
Wakato jumped at Atobe's sudden movement, scowling a little as he felt his scalp tingling from the impact, but forgot about it soon enough with the sudden rush of hot air in his ear that seemed to blow his thoughts straight through his head and out the other side. Ahhh, bastard...
Turning his head, he caught the offending mouth with his own, losing a moan into the kiss somewhere as his body molded itself against Atobe's, hands grasping at fabric and beads and feathers to bring the other closer.
Atobe let out a mental laugh at Wakato's enthusiasm. It seemed the other boy had given up on his previous task, once again, not that Atobe minded. It was rare for the redhead to do something that the empath wasn't ok with. On the other hand, one would really have to go out of their if they wanted to get the boy pissed. The diva found himself not caring about what others thought of did, he was above them all.
Pulling away from the kiss, the blond ran a hot tongue over flushed lips. "Brotherhood."
The flush in his cheeks was probably way too noticeable to come off anytime soon, and there was an odd buzzing in his ears, but Wakato smirked right back at Atobe without missing a beat, one hand freeing itself from where it had slid up the other mutant's shirt. "Let's."
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OOC
Date: 2005-11-25 09:44 pm (UTC)Re: OOC
Date: 2005-11-26 06:25 pm (UTC)