Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Splinters of a Song ❯ = track one = ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

= Splinters of a Song =

Warnings and disclaimers same as in the Prologue. Nothing has changed much from that one to this one. Ryuuichi POV again. Mention of Ryuuichi x Touma in this part.

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= Track One =

No matter how high up, there was always a little bit of noise. The sounds of wind and the faint sounds of traffic, the slamming of doors and the murmurs of voices, the tapping of a loose screen and the coos of pigeons as they settled down for the night. No matter how high up my apartment was and how much soundproofing between the outside and me, I could still hear the beat of the city.

That beat would lure me into the silence of the mind, deep past the mask others saw most times and into the core that made me a musician. It would let me explore the language, choosing the exact word and turn of a phrase and string them together like pearls on a thread until I had a song. Sometimes my lyrics gave me a chill in the spine as if I was touching something profane, other times the songs strike a chord that was not deep but still made some sense, then there were times that the songs completely sucked and those I would file aside into a scrapbook. Why I kept a scrapbook on my worse lyrical doodles not even I was sure of, but I'd filled three of those big books of little rambling lines that lead nowhere, and was working on a fourth.

But tonight, the beat of the city brought me no inspiration at all.

"Mooooou!" I exclaimed, flopping back into the futon, nibbling on my pen's tip. "I can't think tonight, Kumagorou!"

I gave a big worried glance at the pink rabbit sitting on my coffee table over seeing my notebook and the squiggly doodles that was my way of trying to come up with something anything that sounded nice and rhymed. Three more songs were needed for the next album, three more pieces about love and life and hardship and pain, but I couldn't think of anything but K aiming that Glock of his at me after I told him I didn't have the songs yet. I could write a song about that, but I doubt that K would be amused that he was the topic of any song of mine.

"Kumagorou, I can't think up of anything right now!" Throwing my head back, I stretched out more on the low piece of furniture, studying the ceiling, whining to my stuffed rabbit out loud. "I just can't! There's nothing to write about! K is gonna shoot me dead!"

No wonder people thought I was crazy I talked to a rabbit like it was alive. But I was always like that, talking to myself out loud or singing. That I turned my first toy into a sounding board was strange but people have grown use to it, even when I bring the pink rabbit with me everywhere I went. But I always believed even when I was young that everything possess a bit of a soul, from people to animals, to plants to rocks. All they needed was someone to bring that soul out, like what I did with Kumagorou. A little care, a little kindness and has a buddy for life. Like in the Velveteen Rabbit.

Frowning at the plain boring white of the ceiling and wonder why that wasn't painted like the night sky like I had asked, I heard the soft whispering that some people would call their inner child and I just called Kumagorou in my mind.

"Get out of the apartment? Don't think about the songs right now?" Scrunching my nose, I sat up and glanced confusedly at the stuffed animal. "But K said... But I have to.. You mean that I am suffering from lack of mingling? That I need to have some sort of contact with others to remind myself about what I am writing for? Sugoi! I like that idea, but I can't... All right! I'll do it!"

Satisfied with my answer, the rabbit became quiet again, silently eyeing my work of the evening with reproachful button eyes. Tossing the pen onto the table, I picked up the pink rabbit and bounced towards my bedroom. Like most stars, I could have lived in a huge mansion with lots of rooms and fancy furniture but I prefer to keep things simple. The place I called home was a good-sized apartment with four main rooms. The living room/kitchen was where the door opened up to, the bathroom to the side of the bedroom, a smaller room that I had turned into a music room and library and then my bedroom. That was it, nothing big to write home about.

It was easier to manage during the months on the road, easier to pack things away and easier to walk around in the middle of the night without any lights on. During my three-year absence, all my plants were gone, either dead or gracing Touma's or Noriko's home and there was a touch of dust on the TV but nothing too bad. I was expecting worse. I was expecting everything to be long gone or under a cover or dust or even being totally redone like Touma had joked the last time we talked on the phone.

Instead everything was almost the way I had left them. The walls were still painted the nice strong vivid colors that I had painted them over the years, the floor was still a rich golden wood covered by bright rugs of all different types and sizes, my records still hung on the walls within their glass cases, and as I counted I could tell that the last couple were new, pictures of us three during various stages of our careers intermingling among the trophy records, a few yellowing newspaper clips with them.

My bedroom was painted a deep violet color, the main furniture being an extra large bed in the center of the room. Heavy blinds covered the double windows and a shelf was pushed in front of them as well. I hated waking up with sunlight in my eyes, something that I got way too much of in L.A. The bed was large because I tend to toss and turn in my sleep, something that Touma had found out long ago when we were sharing a bed in the early days. More than once I had rolled off my end dragging all the covers with me and being woke up by an angry blonde in the buff. Outside the bed and the one bookshelf were a small entertainment center and a walk in closet.

Turning on the TV, I tucked Kumagorou into the think comforter and told him not to stay up too much watching horror movies before bouncing into my closet in search of clothing. I probably could go out dressed as I was but sometimes the best fun of going out was finding the perfect outfit to wear. Clothing went flying as I dug through the overflowing hangers, most of the stuff having been bought at the trendiest places in L.A. Places that I had dragged K into with pleas, big wobbly chibi eyes and much bapping on his head with Kumagorou. Most didn't rate a second glance as I pulled out a pair of old comfortable leather pants that took me two months worth of saving to buy. Humming to myself, I wiggled out of my jeans and pulled them on, grinning to myself when they fit me perfectly. Back to the closet I went looking for a shirt and finally settling on a faded black cropped tank top with the words 'Chaos=Creativity' scrawled across the front.

Making a face at myself in the full-length mirror, I decided on wearing that long chain choker I got in L.A. and those linked hoop earrings. Almost wishing that K had let me get that nose piercing as well while I was there, I slipped the length of chain around my neck, sliding the loop in place so that the necklace was snug around my neck then putting the small chains on my earrings to link them together. K hated this look, said that I looked like a punked out dog but I liked it and K wasn't here to nag at me so I was going to wear it. And to top things off was a leather jacket just as old as the pants and just as comfortable.

One last warning to Kumagorou, I grabbed my wallet and keys off my nightstand and slinked out for some fun, making sure to turn everything off and locking the door behind me. Never can be too careful with all the weird stalkers wandering about stealing things and stuff. Whistling to myself that odd little tune I had sung earlier that day, I skipped down the hall to the stairs. A pretty tune. . . how unfortunate it won't see the light of day with my solo career. It just wouldn't fit, now with Grasper. . .

The stairs were deserted. I grinned to myself and burst into full song, my voice echoing against the concrete walls, bouncing up the stairwell for anyone to hear. Singing was one of the few things I could do well; I seriously screw up anything else unless someone was there to guide me. But all I needed to sing was a rhythm like the sound of my boots against the stone steps, falling in a simple pattern that could easily be sung to. Step-step-slide-step-step-slide-slide-step.

"Tooku de me o hirkarasete, mezameru mono-tachi matteiru. Yoru no jouheki sasowarete, utsuri sumu mure no nukegara ni. . ."

Breaking off the song, I banged open the door and strode into the underground garage barely winded. Walking down five flights of stairs while singing at full volume was a habit I got into when I first decided to be professional with my singing. It was a good way to build the wind and volume that a singer needed. It was also something that the press seemed to enjoy writing about in their endless drivel about the 'genius Sakuma.' Some days I have the urge to find that genius and strangle him so I could a few moments peace. American spoilt me rotten that way.

My car was exactly where K said it would be. Trailing my fingers lightly over the hood, I remembered how I first saw it at that import store, just a glimpse of the deep blue paint catching the corner of my eye as I ran from college to work. I had turned to stare at the beautiful car, had even gone in to ask how much yen it cost. Without all the luxury items, it cost more than my college tuition for the next four years combined. So I had dreamed about owning and when the first check came in, I went and bought it on the spot. I didn't even know how to drive a car back then. But I learnt fast.

Patting the hood, I went over to the driver's side and slid in behind the wheel, inhaling deeply the smell of fine leather. I could see how some people become obsessed with a good car, to listen to the motor purr and feel the thrum of the engine through the steering wheel. Slipping the key into the ignition, I started the engine, purring at the sound of the finely tuned engine, ever so glad that K kept the promise of making sure my car would be well taken care of. Turning on the radio and flipping to an American station, I laughed, throwing the Porsche into gear and speed through the garage, no doubt leaving skid marks behind me. I could almost hear K yelling about speed limits, but I didn't care. This car was made to race the wind and I felt like doing so tonight.

I could just see the horror on the faces on all my faithful fans at the thought that their beloved child-like singer knew how to drive, let alone go out with the sole purpose of getting drunk and maybe getting laid. But I was thirty-two years old, quite capable of handling myself without needing a nursemaid. Yes, K followed me about most days, but he was my manager not my babysitter. Though if I was really the child-like simpleton that everyone thought I was, I doubt Touma would put up with my antics for long.

Speeding onto the streets, I heard a horn honk over the pounding of the music playing and the screech of my tires on the tar. Steering with one hand, I flicked a finger at the car that nearly hit me, grinning as I imagined the string of names that the driver was probably calling me. Like I cared. Names were for those who were uncomfortable with their own place in life.

I sang along with a few songs, driving where the whim took me. The city was alive and pulsating to its own beat, intermingling with the driving music from the radio. I had to roll down the window to hear the music better; to feel it sink into my bones like it had never left. America had a younger sound, a livelier beat, but Japan's was more expressive, deeper and richer and refined to befit its age and wisdom. Or lack of it. Opinions differ on that part. The wind tousled my cyan locks, sending the ragged hair all over the place and into my eyes.

* K'so, Kumagorou was right, * I thought, coming to a stop- - barely in time - - at a red light. * I do need to get out and just hear the music. . . *

As I waited for the light to turn green, I combed my hair more or less into place with my fingers and saw the blinking neon lights of a nightclub ahead. I chuckled and made a hairpin turn into the parking lot, turning off the car and grinning like a fool. The nightclub looked just right for what I wanted to do.. Fishing a pair of sunglasses from the glove box, I slipped them over my eyes and got out, locking the car before making my way towards the brightly lit club. There was a line already forming but the bouncer was only giving people a curtsy glance over before waving them in so I didn't have long to wait before getting inside.

Multi-colored lights flashed from the ceiling and the walls, bodies pressed together contorting to the pulsating beat of the too loud music. From the door one stood on a balcony overlooking the dance floor, the bar nestled in one corner raised above the dance floor by several feet and squared off by chrome bars from the writhing bodies. Used to maneuvering about in the near dark while wearing sunglasses, I made my way down the stairs and towards the bar, getting bumped and groped as I weaved through the crowd. None seemed to recognize me or even care, which is what I wanted right now. The 'genius' I had left behind in my apartment and I was just Ryuuichi out looking for a good time.

Making it to the bar, I slipped between the pressed bodies and ordered scotch on the rocks from a pretty woman with her hair done up in two orange and gold pigtails framing her heart shaped face. Placing the glass in front of me, she lingered a bit, brown eyes widening as I dipped my finger in the amber liquor and licked the digit clean. She giggled, leaning forward enough so I could whisper in her ear but another customer dragged her away before she could answer me. Sighing at the loss, I turned to watch the gyrating bodies, the drink in my hand.

I could almost feel the tension leave my neck at the sights and sounds; tension that started there when I had started singing to ease that poor kid's stage shock. Singing can and often did relax the savage fangirl but the crowd was large and a part of me realized that if I could not calm the crowd that kid would never be able to get onto a stage again. For some reason, he reminded me of myself when I first stood up on a stage looking over the crowd of faces turned towards me, all of them waiting for the magic of the music. I had been frozen until Touma gave me a poke and Noriko started the first chord to our song. But that kid. . . he looked as if he saw a ghost coming at him. I hope he would get his stage legs under himself and soon, otherwise the good start Bad Luck had would not last long.

Bringing my glass to my lips, I tipped my head back, drinking the amber fluid in one easy swallow, the burning of the liquor burning a path down my throat. Placing the glass back onto the bar, I moved onto the floor, throwing myself into the beat. Bodies pressed against me, hands touching me as I touched them, rocking and surging, the lights flashing around us, strobe lights that slowed down time to bright flashes that were like the stars in their brief intensity. I gave myself to this rhythm, moving in time with everyone around me and alone as well. I was so alone under the mask of child-like innocence, so alone in the mask of sex and music. Only the others knew of this loneliness, only they understood what was under the masks for them too had their own masks. Noriko, Touma, how they only seem to see who I really was under the masks, like I knew them underneath their own.

A warm feminine body pressed against me, rocking her hips in time with the loud pounding beat. Arms twined around my shoulders, entangling with the long hair at the back of my neck, soft flower scent perfume filled my senses. Opening my eyes, I looked into the green eyes set in a soft pretty face, red lipstick accented her full lips and matching the color of her tank top. From the feel of her legs entangling with my own, I knew that she was either wearing a very short skirt or tiny shorts. I could feel her firm legs press against the leather of my pants as she molded herself to me, our bodies twisting to the beat.

This was not the first time something like this happened to me nor did I believe it would be the last. Resting my hands on her hips, I smirked, my hands smoothing the fabric of the short skirt along her curves and over her round backside. Pulling her close, I mouthed the words to the song pounded through our bodies, leaning forward to catch those red, red lips in a burning kiss. The woman's lips met mine in a clash of teeth and tongue and lips, bodies moving instinctively with the pounding beat, the taste of orange liquor filling my senses. Pulling away, I raised a hand and pressed my fingers to her lips to silence anything she might say.

Running my thumb across her lower lip, I leaned forward, brushing my lips against her ear. In a voice that was a husky murmur, I whispered, "No commitment, no regrets. Say yes or no, choose heaven or hell."

She chuckled softly, her teeth white against the red of her lips as she nibbled briefly on my earlobe. "No regrets, and heaven is what you make of it." She pulled away and grinned wickedly, her green eyes sparkling. "And so is hell."

My mouth curved into a smile as I leaned forward to press a kiss on those wicked lips. She melted against me, her body fitting close to mine, molding to every needing inch of me. It had been only a few short weeks but I was hungry for the touch of another, hungry to feel the warmth of a body pressed against mine, filling that spot that hungers for everything and gives away nothing of itself. That spot no one had touched and gotten away unscratched. Everyone had one but mine was a vicious thing and it didn't care what it did to others.

"Then let's go find out which one we can touch tonight," I murmured against those lips.

A nod was her response and we quickly left the nightclub and wandered to my car. Took a while to get there, since we would stop for a while to taste each other and grind slowly against each other. I drove us back to my place, growling as her hands teased me to painful hardness inside my pants, her red lips curling in a wicked smile at my frustration. Plotting wicked things to do to her, I drove into the underground parking space at my building and pulled her out of the car. For several minutes I pressed her against the concrete walls, kissing her breathless until dragging her up the stairs. She was laughing breathlessly, her green eyes dancing wickedly as I fumbled with the locks at my door, her hands everywhere. Stumbling into the brightly lit apartment, I didn't notice we were alone until I heard a familiar voice speak up behind us.

"Ryuuichi, I was wondering when you would be coming home..."