Title: Ameagari
Author: LoveSasa (Mizery-Rose)
Summary: Ameagari. After the rain. Money, drugs, booze, friends, sex, and rain... Welcome to the life of a rock star.
Author's Notes: All original characters and plot, copyright me. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. "Ameagari" is Japanese for "after the rain." Please review. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see. Thank you, and enjoy.
Chapter 1
A cold wind blew through the abandoned streets, carrying with it the smell of the rain that was soon to come. Dead leaves littered the ground, and danced with the gusts in a surreal ballet. Deeply grayed skies threatened to overtake the world, and a light fog dimmed everything in sight. With such lack of vibrancy, the long forsaken playground could have easily been mistaken for a graveyard, the depressingly lonely equipment -- the desecrated bones of the deceased. Among the depressing array, a lone figure sat on a leaning swing set, easily blending in to the scene, as if placed there specifically for a photo or painting. The sight radiated as a dispiriting image of desolation.
Expressionless, the lone form swayed slowly on the apparatus as a branch bent in the wind. Dark hair flew nearly weightlessly in the breeze, gone unnoticed by its owner. An almost comforting silence had settled itself over the place, accompanied only by the faint rustling of branches and leaves. Pale cheeks grew slightly rosy from exposure to the cold, though the figure seemed unfazed by the temperatures, and lulled into a sort of hypnosis by the dark clouds overhead. Raindrops eventually began to fall, slowly and periodic at first, but slowly gaining numbers. A low roll of thunder in the distance added to the soft symphony of sounds, accompanied by a flash of lightning somewhere far away.
Through it all, the soul on the swings barely altered movement at all, aside from sitting still as the rain slicked down the formerly dancing strings of hair. All too suddenly, a slow but insistently annoying melody cut through the scene like a knife. Starting slightly at the sound, the soma reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver phone, strikingly modern against the backdrop of the decaying buildings in the area. Pressing a button, a hand tucked a few strands of sopping hair behind the figure's left ear before placing the object of disruption against it. "Hello?" The male voice echoed through the empty yard. "Five o'clock?" Hesitating for a moment, he balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder, checking his watch. One hour. "Yeah. I'll be there. See you then." Click.
Phone returned to his pocket, his chassis was forced to slowly stand, and walk away from the oasis. Though it seemed late evening due to the weather induced darkness, it was just afternoon. Somehow though, the premature darkness was comforting. Ignoring the puddles trodden upon as he stepped along the beaten pavement, the man moved among the defeated buildings with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. Pausing only momentarily by a bus stop, he sighed and continued walking. Though slower, less people would have to be dealt with this way. That was far better, even if it meant he'd have to show up to a meeting with his peers in less than dry clothing, and a bit late.
Black and blue painted nails tapped incessantly on the windowsill as their owner stared out at the raging thunderstorm. Around the studio three other men waited in various states of unrest. A man with light pink hair and a rather thin physique paced back and forth by the door, twirling drumsticks between his fingers, obviously agitated. The others seemed more bored than anything. The bassist, owner of a sleek black instrument and matching hair, practiced imitating the baseline of a rock song on the radio, while one of the guitarists sprawled on the couch reading a magazine, black and purple hair sticking up at odd angles and a pick stuck between his teeth. Continuing to rap his nails upon the wooden sill, the vocalist sighed, wondering if the rolling thunder would reveal any answers if he stared long enough.
"He said he was coming?" The question came from the pacing man.
"Yup..." came the reply. His nails continued their beat in time with the seconds.
"Did he sound..." The drummer trailed off.
"He wouldn't do that again."
"Well did he sound like it?"
"Yeah but... He was outside. You know how he gets with this weather." The vocalist could hear himself arguing with his band mate, part of him hoping that what he was saying was right. Wanting to believe that the promises would be kept.
"I also know that the doctors said he could relapse!" Getting snappy as his anxiousness grew, he stopped pacing and just glared at the other men. How could they not realize the possibilities?
"Damn it, Jun, he's only half an hour late!" He stopped tapping his nails, returning the glare sent his way.
"He's never late! He never was, until --" The pink-haired man was interrupted.
"Until the hospital! We know that Jun. We all do. He wouldn't do that again. He's better than that now."
"We thought he was okay then too. We ignored it! What if we missed the signs again? What if he did--" He stopped yelling and turned around as the door opened to reveal a sopping wet man. The guitarist sat up, the bassist stopped playing; everyone in the room turned to look. The man in the doorway shifted uncomfortably under the stares. Dark purple hair stuck to his head, and his baggy pants and jacket dripped with moisture. His gaze was focused on the floor, disliking the attention thrown his way.
"Um... sorry I'm late."
After what seemed like an eternity, Tokaji, the vocalist, spoke up. "Ehm... Thats okay Tai. Its just... not like you."
The guitarist licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling parched. He knew what they were thinking, he knew what they had assumed. After overhearing a bit of Jun's screaming as he walked up the stairs to the apartment studio, he had figured out what they had been yelling about as well. Simply nodding in response to Tokaji, he walked to where he had left his guitar case that morning, leaning against a corner. The tension was evident in the air, and it circled around him. The only way he could escape now was by playing. Drugs were no longer an option, and the effect he had gained from the weather was slowly withering away under such intense stares. Unfortunately, the fates would not allow him that release.
As he reached out a hand for a guitar, a voice stopped him. "Tai..?" Turning around, he saw that everyone was still looking at him. "This... is actually just going to be a meeting. We got in our day's practice this morning, remember?" Oh... lovely. He nodded and glanced up at the vocalist, who was the one speaking. Their gazes locked, and the Tokaji's eyes bore into him, daring him to tell the truth, to bear his thoughts to everyone. Something he just couldn't do. He broke the connection, his eyes darting around the room for something he could hold on to, someone he could ask for understanding.
Eventually, his gaze fell to Jun. The pink haired man seemed to be the only one who understood just how vulnerable he was, who ever had. However now, their eyes falling upon one another brought no comfort. The unshed tears were evident in the drummer's eyes from his earlier fears, and his current ones. Tai found it hard to keep eye contact when he felt so responsible for causing those fears. He took a deep breath, and pulled out a bar stool, taking a seat on it. Willing his body to be still and his face to remain expressionless, he silently prayed that his fears would go unnoticed, and unjustified. Part of him couldn't help but remind him about how he'd screwed up. No one wants a druggie for a guitarist. No one wants a faggot as a band mate.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and spoke the words he'd been wishing he'd never have to say. "What did you want to tell me..?"
Author: LoveSasa (Mizery-Rose)
Summary: Ameagari. After the rain. Money, drugs, booze, friends, sex, and rain... Welcome to the life of a rock star.
Author's Notes: All original characters and plot, copyright me. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental. "Ameagari" is Japanese for "after the rain." Please review. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see. Thank you, and enjoy.
Chapter 1
A cold wind blew through the abandoned streets, carrying with it the smell of the rain that was soon to come. Dead leaves littered the ground, and danced with the gusts in a surreal ballet. Deeply grayed skies threatened to overtake the world, and a light fog dimmed everything in sight. With such lack of vibrancy, the long forsaken playground could have easily been mistaken for a graveyard, the depressingly lonely equipment -- the desecrated bones of the deceased. Among the depressing array, a lone figure sat on a leaning swing set, easily blending in to the scene, as if placed there specifically for a photo or painting. The sight radiated as a dispiriting image of desolation.
Expressionless, the lone form swayed slowly on the apparatus as a branch bent in the wind. Dark hair flew nearly weightlessly in the breeze, gone unnoticed by its owner. An almost comforting silence had settled itself over the place, accompanied only by the faint rustling of branches and leaves. Pale cheeks grew slightly rosy from exposure to the cold, though the figure seemed unfazed by the temperatures, and lulled into a sort of hypnosis by the dark clouds overhead. Raindrops eventually began to fall, slowly and periodic at first, but slowly gaining numbers. A low roll of thunder in the distance added to the soft symphony of sounds, accompanied by a flash of lightning somewhere far away.
Through it all, the soul on the swings barely altered movement at all, aside from sitting still as the rain slicked down the formerly dancing strings of hair. All too suddenly, a slow but insistently annoying melody cut through the scene like a knife. Starting slightly at the sound, the soma reached into his pocket and retrieved a small silver phone, strikingly modern against the backdrop of the decaying buildings in the area. Pressing a button, a hand tucked a few strands of sopping hair behind the figure's left ear before placing the object of disruption against it. "Hello?" The male voice echoed through the empty yard. "Five o'clock?" Hesitating for a moment, he balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder, checking his watch. One hour. "Yeah. I'll be there. See you then." Click.
Phone returned to his pocket, his chassis was forced to slowly stand, and walk away from the oasis. Though it seemed late evening due to the weather induced darkness, it was just afternoon. Somehow though, the premature darkness was comforting. Ignoring the puddles trodden upon as he stepped along the beaten pavement, the man moved among the defeated buildings with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets. Pausing only momentarily by a bus stop, he sighed and continued walking. Though slower, less people would have to be dealt with this way. That was far better, even if it meant he'd have to show up to a meeting with his peers in less than dry clothing, and a bit late.
Black and blue painted nails tapped incessantly on the windowsill as their owner stared out at the raging thunderstorm. Around the studio three other men waited in various states of unrest. A man with light pink hair and a rather thin physique paced back and forth by the door, twirling drumsticks between his fingers, obviously agitated. The others seemed more bored than anything. The bassist, owner of a sleek black instrument and matching hair, practiced imitating the baseline of a rock song on the radio, while one of the guitarists sprawled on the couch reading a magazine, black and purple hair sticking up at odd angles and a pick stuck between his teeth. Continuing to rap his nails upon the wooden sill, the vocalist sighed, wondering if the rolling thunder would reveal any answers if he stared long enough.
"He said he was coming?" The question came from the pacing man.
"Yup..." came the reply. His nails continued their beat in time with the seconds.
"Did he sound..." The drummer trailed off.
"He wouldn't do that again."
"Well did he sound like it?"
"Yeah but... He was outside. You know how he gets with this weather." The vocalist could hear himself arguing with his band mate, part of him hoping that what he was saying was right. Wanting to believe that the promises would be kept.
"I also know that the doctors said he could relapse!" Getting snappy as his anxiousness grew, he stopped pacing and just glared at the other men. How could they not realize the possibilities?
"Damn it, Jun, he's only half an hour late!" He stopped tapping his nails, returning the glare sent his way.
"He's never late! He never was, until --" The pink-haired man was interrupted.
"Until the hospital! We know that Jun. We all do. He wouldn't do that again. He's better than that now."
"We thought he was okay then too. We ignored it! What if we missed the signs again? What if he did--" He stopped yelling and turned around as the door opened to reveal a sopping wet man. The guitarist sat up, the bassist stopped playing; everyone in the room turned to look. The man in the doorway shifted uncomfortably under the stares. Dark purple hair stuck to his head, and his baggy pants and jacket dripped with moisture. His gaze was focused on the floor, disliking the attention thrown his way.
"Um... sorry I'm late."
After what seemed like an eternity, Tokaji, the vocalist, spoke up. "Ehm... Thats okay Tai. Its just... not like you."
The guitarist licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling parched. He knew what they were thinking, he knew what they had assumed. After overhearing a bit of Jun's screaming as he walked up the stairs to the apartment studio, he had figured out what they had been yelling about as well. Simply nodding in response to Tokaji, he walked to where he had left his guitar case that morning, leaning against a corner. The tension was evident in the air, and it circled around him. The only way he could escape now was by playing. Drugs were no longer an option, and the effect he had gained from the weather was slowly withering away under such intense stares. Unfortunately, the fates would not allow him that release.
As he reached out a hand for a guitar, a voice stopped him. "Tai..?" Turning around, he saw that everyone was still looking at him. "This... is actually just going to be a meeting. We got in our day's practice this morning, remember?" Oh... lovely. He nodded and glanced up at the vocalist, who was the one speaking. Their gazes locked, and the Tokaji's eyes bore into him, daring him to tell the truth, to bear his thoughts to everyone. Something he just couldn't do. He broke the connection, his eyes darting around the room for something he could hold on to, someone he could ask for understanding.
Eventually, his gaze fell to Jun. The pink haired man seemed to be the only one who understood just how vulnerable he was, who ever had. However now, their eyes falling upon one another brought no comfort. The unshed tears were evident in the drummer's eyes from his earlier fears, and his current ones. Tai found it hard to keep eye contact when he felt so responsible for causing those fears. He took a deep breath, and pulled out a bar stool, taking a seat on it. Willing his body to be still and his face to remain expressionless, he silently prayed that his fears would go unnoticed, and unjustified. Part of him couldn't help but remind him about how he'd screwed up. No one wants a druggie for a guitarist. No one wants a faggot as a band mate.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and spoke the words he'd been wishing he'd never have to say. "What did you want to tell me..?"