(no subject)
Title: Who needs fanservice?
Rating: PG
Pairing: Yuuya/Mao(SID)
Summary: who needs fanservice? Mao is about to find out.
It started off just like any other day, the usual smell of the city mornings, the usual greetings, the usual aroma of cheap filter coffee wafting through the back break rooms of the offices. A typical day, uneventful, but nevertheless duty calls. And with a stifled yawn, he dragged his feet down the familiar narrow hallway, almost automatically, to where the rest of the band awaited him.
Duty calls…he knew this business takes dedication, so it was time to get to work. And as the band’s front man, he knew it was all up to him to provide the inspiration as well as the enthusiasm to stay on track. If not him, who else?
So he rolled his shoulders, turned his head from side to side and prepared himself for the usual daily wisdom he liked to give to get his band mates going, but as he rounded a corner into their recording studio almost expecting to find them sitting around lost in their own world…or hair, he was faced instead with a lively chatter and stacks upon stacks of white envelopes in which their drummer took pleasure in making a snow angel out of.
He immediately helped him up while weeding out the envelopes that were stuck in odd places.
“Fan mail day...” sang Shinji while aiming a paper airplane at their bassist’s head. Aki ignored the peck of the paper plane as a sly smile appeared on his face from one letter that he was reading.
“Hey guys check this one out…” he said with a slight amusement that certainly caught the attention of his band mates. He read the letter out loud.
It read the usual likes and over enthusiastic expressions of love for the band and the music that they produce, which was of course never a bad thing, the four members loved getting positive feedback and response from their fans. It helped them strive, and it helped them grow.
But it was that last line of the fan letter, however, that irked something within the vocalist, who furrowed his brows lightly in thought. The others didn’t think anything of it since it wasn’t a big deal, and definitely not the first bizarre request they’ve ever received from fans. But no matter what kind of image they presented, the bothersome idea that never found its way into this band’s architecture, still came back to haunt him, not that he had anything against it, it just wasn’t who they were. Or rather….who he was.
“Are they implying that we crank up the fanservice?”
“That’s so messed up!”
“Yeah because Aki isn’t doing it right…”
“I’ll show you fanservice!” Aki teased as grabbed the guitarist and attempted to kiss him in mockery as the other fought him off. Yuuya laughed out loud and Mao shook his head with his chin in his hand.
They’re just fans, probably young and curious and at that age where their mind tends to wander off with all sorts of scary thoughts. It wasn’t a matter to be taken seriously at all. He shrugged off the thought immediately and cleared his throat.
With the rest of the fan letters lying forgotten, the vocalist rounded up his band and discussed the more important matters that needed to be addressed, but it didn’t mean that the thought wasn’t lurking in the back of his mind the entire time.
*
Curiosity, he bitterly had to remind himself, is a human trait and that he’s certainly human as human can be. Therefore, it was perfectly normal to be thinking about something that he found slightly curious.
Just slightly though.
And he found himself mentally stressed over nothing by the end of the meeting when he couldn’t afford to be. There was much to do, much to worry about and yet one fan letter managed to occupy his thoughts the entire time, pushing everything else aside, and now he found himself stressing over the stress of how that even came to be.
He ruffled his hair with a groan trying to clear his mind to focus, only to have another set of hands do it again. And this time, he really felt like his brain was turned into a milkshake from the strong drummer hands.
“Oi! Yuuya…” he whined and the other gave him a throaty chuckle as he plopped into the empty seat next to him.
“Why are you in here alone? We’re going out for drinks, want to come…?”
And he grinned as if they were going to watch a WorldCup game live, but the vocalist only gave him a look that failed since he laughed. Something about the drummer’s animated face always made him laugh.
“No, not in the mood…go ahead, I have take these up to our manager anyway.” indicating the stack of papers in his hand, but Yuuya wasn’t convinced.
Mao stared at him and Yuuya stared back, scrutinizing him. Mao rolled his eyes after a moment trying to get out of this game of his. “What?”
“Something on your mind?”
“No…”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Mao…”
“Yuuya.”
“C’mon, you know how this always ends.”
“Not this time Yuuya.”
“Mao…”
“Stop!”
“Mao…”
“Stop!”
Too late, he knew the game was over before it even began; there was just no winning when it came to Yuuya. He nearly crushed the drummer’s hands trying to keep them away from the super sensitive to tickling spots on his body, and the end result brought the wheelie chairs crashing into each other, too close for comfort, but wasn’t anything unfamiliar. This was Yuuya, and Yuuya invading his personal space was a normal thing. In fact, it became so normal just by simply working with the drummer, that Mao often found his surroundings not right if it didn’t involve someone screaming in his ear, or poking him in some weird way, or holding his gaze warmly as Yuuya did now.
For a while nothing was ever said, but the vocalist’s half attempt at a smile told all. Yuuya understood and gave him an incredulous smile of his own. “You were thinking about that letter, weren’t you?”
Mao sucked his teeth and let go of the drummer’s hands. “No! It was just a letter, no big deal!” he shrugged away and Yuuya only watched him.
“Are you that bothered by fanservice?” he simply asked and Mao was at a loss for words. He looked away, shrugging again.
“I mean, it’s so stupid, we don’t have to make a name for ourselves by doing something like that!” said Mao and Yuuya shrugged, agreeing with him.
“Nope, I think we’ve come a long way without any of that stuff.”
“I know!! and I think we’re doing damn well!” stressed Mao, and Yuuya nodded along, while jutting out his lower lip.
An act that immediately caught the eyes of the vocalist...
“A-and…I mean…it’s not a bad thing….”
“No its not…”
“Kudos to the guys who can play it off in front of a live audience…”
“Right right.”
“But still…doesn’t mean that…we should start doing it…” Yuuya shook his head, but Mao was starting to feel his cheeks get warm. There was a quiet moment when their eyes locked together, but Mao broke the trance by asking, sheepishly. “Just between the two of us…have you ever…you know… thought about it?”
Yuuya did a half roll of his eyes feigning disappointment. “mmm, can’t do much behind the drums I’m afraid. Its something easy for the bassists, guitarists…” he trailed off, but his eyes came back on him with a gleam in them when he added “…or vocalists…”
He noticed a bit of color coming into the vocalist’s cheeks as he looked away, shyly. But when Mao’s eyes were back on him, round and alert, and full of wonder, the other leaned in closer, eyes tracing over the slight pout and parted lips of a very curious vocalist. And it was as if he read his mind when Yuuya asked him in a soft whisper. “Do you want to know… what its like?”
Mao didn’t even answer when after a hesitant moment later; he closed in the rest of the way, planted the tips of his fingers gently against Yuuya’s collarbone and pressed his lips into his. Not doing anything else, but taking in the moment of it all. The other’s soft lips, his warm breath, light cologne that smelled good…
Overall, it wasn’t terribly bad….
It actually felt great.
Because it wasn’t the act in itself that felt good, but everything that was put into it and received at the same time. He never felt so elated and scared before, except before a live, but this was different. Much different.
And the fact that it was shared with his closest friend ever made it even more special, like a sacred pact made to seal their friendship that only the two of them were in on and nobody else. Their little secret, and for that moment, Mao seemed to forget why they were even in a position like this to begin with.
Something about fanservice…but there is no way this could ever be fanservice. Fanservice was impersonal and this definitely didn’t feel like anything impersonal.
When they pulled apart, it was abrupt but only because they’ve forgotten that they were in a public place and anyone could’ve walked in on them at that moment. They sat in silence, not daring to make eye contact but after a long moment, Yuuya broke that dense air of silence between them.
“Well?” he asked. Whether it sounded like amusement or horror, Mao never knew. He sat pondering the simple question that held many answers to it, many possibilities. Where could he even start to describe what he felt, or did he even feel anything at all. Was he supposed to?
He didn’t know.
It all happened so fast that there wasn’t enough time to decipher it all.
His mind for the moment had shut down. So the only thing he was able to think of dumbly was the first decision he stood firmly by from the start. And somehow…he instantly regretted saying it.
“No, fanservice is definitely not our thing…”
And what he subconsciously felt as more discouraging than what he had said was the fact that Yuuya had agreed with him too fast, got up from his seat and suggested to catch up with the other two before they left them, leaving Mao behind to makeup his mind on whether he wanted to go out with them or not.
But Mao still sat there in the silence of the recording studio, eyes glued to the carpeted floor and fingers pressed to his lips, not so much to try and mimic the lips he felt a few moments ago, but only because it was so short lived, that it felt like it was already forgotten, and for some reason, he wanted it to have lasted just a little longer.
But he got his answer and explored the possibilities of the much avoided idea of a not so important stage act, so what was left?
Why did it feel like somewhere along the way, the line between a simple act and reality had been blurred?
Rating: PG
Pairing: Yuuya/Mao(SID)
Summary: who needs fanservice? Mao is about to find out.
It started off just like any other day, the usual smell of the city mornings, the usual greetings, the usual aroma of cheap filter coffee wafting through the back break rooms of the offices. A typical day, uneventful, but nevertheless duty calls. And with a stifled yawn, he dragged his feet down the familiar narrow hallway, almost automatically, to where the rest of the band awaited him.
Duty calls…he knew this business takes dedication, so it was time to get to work. And as the band’s front man, he knew it was all up to him to provide the inspiration as well as the enthusiasm to stay on track. If not him, who else?
So he rolled his shoulders, turned his head from side to side and prepared himself for the usual daily wisdom he liked to give to get his band mates going, but as he rounded a corner into their recording studio almost expecting to find them sitting around lost in their own world…or hair, he was faced instead with a lively chatter and stacks upon stacks of white envelopes in which their drummer took pleasure in making a snow angel out of.
He immediately helped him up while weeding out the envelopes that were stuck in odd places.
“Fan mail day...” sang Shinji while aiming a paper airplane at their bassist’s head. Aki ignored the peck of the paper plane as a sly smile appeared on his face from one letter that he was reading.
“Hey guys check this one out…” he said with a slight amusement that certainly caught the attention of his band mates. He read the letter out loud.
It read the usual likes and over enthusiastic expressions of love for the band and the music that they produce, which was of course never a bad thing, the four members loved getting positive feedback and response from their fans. It helped them strive, and it helped them grow.
But it was that last line of the fan letter, however, that irked something within the vocalist, who furrowed his brows lightly in thought. The others didn’t think anything of it since it wasn’t a big deal, and definitely not the first bizarre request they’ve ever received from fans. But no matter what kind of image they presented, the bothersome idea that never found its way into this band’s architecture, still came back to haunt him, not that he had anything against it, it just wasn’t who they were. Or rather….who he was.
“Are they implying that we crank up the fanservice?”
“That’s so messed up!”
“Yeah because Aki isn’t doing it right…”
“I’ll show you fanservice!” Aki teased as grabbed the guitarist and attempted to kiss him in mockery as the other fought him off. Yuuya laughed out loud and Mao shook his head with his chin in his hand.
They’re just fans, probably young and curious and at that age where their mind tends to wander off with all sorts of scary thoughts. It wasn’t a matter to be taken seriously at all. He shrugged off the thought immediately and cleared his throat.
With the rest of the fan letters lying forgotten, the vocalist rounded up his band and discussed the more important matters that needed to be addressed, but it didn’t mean that the thought wasn’t lurking in the back of his mind the entire time.
*
Curiosity, he bitterly had to remind himself, is a human trait and that he’s certainly human as human can be. Therefore, it was perfectly normal to be thinking about something that he found slightly curious.
Just slightly though.
And he found himself mentally stressed over nothing by the end of the meeting when he couldn’t afford to be. There was much to do, much to worry about and yet one fan letter managed to occupy his thoughts the entire time, pushing everything else aside, and now he found himself stressing over the stress of how that even came to be.
He ruffled his hair with a groan trying to clear his mind to focus, only to have another set of hands do it again. And this time, he really felt like his brain was turned into a milkshake from the strong drummer hands.
“Oi! Yuuya…” he whined and the other gave him a throaty chuckle as he plopped into the empty seat next to him.
“Why are you in here alone? We’re going out for drinks, want to come…?”
And he grinned as if they were going to watch a WorldCup game live, but the vocalist only gave him a look that failed since he laughed. Something about the drummer’s animated face always made him laugh.
“No, not in the mood…go ahead, I have take these up to our manager anyway.” indicating the stack of papers in his hand, but Yuuya wasn’t convinced.
Mao stared at him and Yuuya stared back, scrutinizing him. Mao rolled his eyes after a moment trying to get out of this game of his. “What?”
“Something on your mind?”
“No…”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Mao…”
“Yuuya.”
“C’mon, you know how this always ends.”
“Not this time Yuuya.”
“Mao…”
“Stop!”
“Mao…”
“Stop!”
Too late, he knew the game was over before it even began; there was just no winning when it came to Yuuya. He nearly crushed the drummer’s hands trying to keep them away from the super sensitive to tickling spots on his body, and the end result brought the wheelie chairs crashing into each other, too close for comfort, but wasn’t anything unfamiliar. This was Yuuya, and Yuuya invading his personal space was a normal thing. In fact, it became so normal just by simply working with the drummer, that Mao often found his surroundings not right if it didn’t involve someone screaming in his ear, or poking him in some weird way, or holding his gaze warmly as Yuuya did now.
For a while nothing was ever said, but the vocalist’s half attempt at a smile told all. Yuuya understood and gave him an incredulous smile of his own. “You were thinking about that letter, weren’t you?”
Mao sucked his teeth and let go of the drummer’s hands. “No! It was just a letter, no big deal!” he shrugged away and Yuuya only watched him.
“Are you that bothered by fanservice?” he simply asked and Mao was at a loss for words. He looked away, shrugging again.
“I mean, it’s so stupid, we don’t have to make a name for ourselves by doing something like that!” said Mao and Yuuya shrugged, agreeing with him.
“Nope, I think we’ve come a long way without any of that stuff.”
“I know!! and I think we’re doing damn well!” stressed Mao, and Yuuya nodded along, while jutting out his lower lip.
An act that immediately caught the eyes of the vocalist...
“A-and…I mean…it’s not a bad thing….”
“No its not…”
“Kudos to the guys who can play it off in front of a live audience…”
“Right right.”
“But still…doesn’t mean that…we should start doing it…” Yuuya shook his head, but Mao was starting to feel his cheeks get warm. There was a quiet moment when their eyes locked together, but Mao broke the trance by asking, sheepishly. “Just between the two of us…have you ever…you know… thought about it?”
Yuuya did a half roll of his eyes feigning disappointment. “mmm, can’t do much behind the drums I’m afraid. Its something easy for the bassists, guitarists…” he trailed off, but his eyes came back on him with a gleam in them when he added “…or vocalists…”
He noticed a bit of color coming into the vocalist’s cheeks as he looked away, shyly. But when Mao’s eyes were back on him, round and alert, and full of wonder, the other leaned in closer, eyes tracing over the slight pout and parted lips of a very curious vocalist. And it was as if he read his mind when Yuuya asked him in a soft whisper. “Do you want to know… what its like?”
Mao didn’t even answer when after a hesitant moment later; he closed in the rest of the way, planted the tips of his fingers gently against Yuuya’s collarbone and pressed his lips into his. Not doing anything else, but taking in the moment of it all. The other’s soft lips, his warm breath, light cologne that smelled good…
Overall, it wasn’t terribly bad….
It actually felt great.
Because it wasn’t the act in itself that felt good, but everything that was put into it and received at the same time. He never felt so elated and scared before, except before a live, but this was different. Much different.
And the fact that it was shared with his closest friend ever made it even more special, like a sacred pact made to seal their friendship that only the two of them were in on and nobody else. Their little secret, and for that moment, Mao seemed to forget why they were even in a position like this to begin with.
Something about fanservice…but there is no way this could ever be fanservice. Fanservice was impersonal and this definitely didn’t feel like anything impersonal.
When they pulled apart, it was abrupt but only because they’ve forgotten that they were in a public place and anyone could’ve walked in on them at that moment. They sat in silence, not daring to make eye contact but after a long moment, Yuuya broke that dense air of silence between them.
“Well?” he asked. Whether it sounded like amusement or horror, Mao never knew. He sat pondering the simple question that held many answers to it, many possibilities. Where could he even start to describe what he felt, or did he even feel anything at all. Was he supposed to?
He didn’t know.
It all happened so fast that there wasn’t enough time to decipher it all.
His mind for the moment had shut down. So the only thing he was able to think of dumbly was the first decision he stood firmly by from the start. And somehow…he instantly regretted saying it.
“No, fanservice is definitely not our thing…”
And what he subconsciously felt as more discouraging than what he had said was the fact that Yuuya had agreed with him too fast, got up from his seat and suggested to catch up with the other two before they left them, leaving Mao behind to makeup his mind on whether he wanted to go out with them or not.
But Mao still sat there in the silence of the recording studio, eyes glued to the carpeted floor and fingers pressed to his lips, not so much to try and mimic the lips he felt a few moments ago, but only because it was so short lived, that it felt like it was already forgotten, and for some reason, he wanted it to have lasted just a little longer.
But he got his answer and explored the possibilities of the much avoided idea of a not so important stage act, so what was left?
Why did it feel like somewhere along the way, the line between a simple act and reality had been blurred?