Shining Acrylic

Disclaimer: Gravitation does not belong to me. I have no money, not even a penny to compensate you for your time. Good day to you, kind sirs.

Author's Notes: The lyrics to  "Sleepless Beauty" were transliterated by Aoi Housen Danke schon. Oh yeah. And don't laugh at my title please. It gets enough of that from me.

            You didn't need to hear the sound to know it. The waves. You could feel the life flowing through them , through the open air of the stage, crashing into everything on contact. Like a force of nature, this feeling was powerful.

            Particles of color splashed into Ryuichi's eyes as he gazed onto the large stage in front of them. Only days before, this place contained no magic. He'd seen the long pieces of wood, painted a cheap charcoal, fitted together and nailed before his very eyes as Touma busily discussed planning for the concert, beside him. It was all rather boring before you got to sing, before the sparkles fell from the sky, settling onto your overdriven body, making the dull wood vibrate with perfect notes… making it shine. Ryuichi soaked in the scene, gazing to the audience, then back again to Shuichi. Turning ordinary wood into a barrier of magic. This was what fans came for. A surreal experience. This was what he came for. A smile lit Ryuichi's features.  

            From the first time he heard Shuichi sing, the passion in his voice, the way he drove himself to the limit without stops, Ryuichi knew they were the same. Something he'd created came back to kill him. The pink haired boy never intended it. Maybe Ryuichi, himself, never really intended it either.

"Ryu," The hushed voice of Noriko brought him away from his musings. Ryuichi turned to look at her, his eyes losing their sparkle of innocence, giving way to cold, industrial perfection. He nodded to her, signaling that he understood. The bright future would fade away to give praise to the ancients… one last time.  After this show, Bad Luck would be leading, no longer forced back or cloaked by the splendor of Grasper. Time to give the audience paradise, and give Bad Luck hell. Maybe they would never understand what it was to compete.  Ryuichi, himself, had never known before. He reached atop his head, fingers closing around the rim of his cowboy hat, removing it. They said not to put it on in the first place… not to ruin his hair before going onstage. Silly things.  Ryuichi looked down at the hat for a moment, before flicking it away from himself, as though playing disk toss. It spun a full 4 times, calmly cutting through the air, before gliding to the ground beside Kumagoro. There, his friend would keep watch over it. 

            He couldn't remember a time when he felt nervous. Touma and Noriko were always at his side. Two equally passionate musicians. Ryuichi walked after them, the sound of his own footsteps echoing up to his ears, above the noise from the crowd. Tonight felt different. Not even Nittle Grasper itself knew if they would continue. Noriko and Touma both desired more time for their families. It felt like the end of a lovely game of dress up. He would be the one child left amongst the beads, and the crazily colored, oversized clothes, while his friends disappeared to play different games with different friends… again.

            Ryuichi kept his eyes lowered, even as he heard the last words die from Shuichi's lips, and felt the movement of the platform under his feet. Black smoke engulfed the stage, pouring out to give them the concealment they needed. They would appear like ghosts, unearthly beings, as the platform reached the surface of the stage, snapping into place. Touma and Noriko moved away from him, taking up position at their instruments. He could hear the screams of the audience, all coming together into one, as they spotted Noriko and Touma first.  The black smoke cleared, and Ryuichi already felt the hot lights beating into his skin, giving him energy through an unlikely transfer. His eyes opened, and his head raised, as wave after wave of sound greeted him. The audience was vast, and by now the sky was black, with the brightest stars still visible.  The beginnings of a core bass began, melding into synchronous time with the expert notes of keyboard. Noriko's hands glided so quickly over the keys, in a dance of their own.

            Everyone gets high, even the musicians. Ryuichi smirked, allowing himself to fall back into the comfort of performing. To think it may be the last time. Ryuichi's hand grasped tightly to the steel microphone in hand, feeling out the beat, and letting that guide him as he added his voice to the menagerie of genius that was "Sleepless Beauty". No pacing. This addiction could consume anyone. Ryuichi sang into the microphone, feeling pleasure course through him as energy emptied his body, only to be replenished through the reaction of the crowd. Tonight there was no holding back. The power behind his voice doubled. Sing until death.  If this was the concert of death, he would go out giving everything.  There was no need to think about note or pitch. It simply came, like second nature, in all its perfection.

"Deguchi no nai"           

"Shougeki ni taeru tsumori nara."  The words came out clearly, reverberating through the microphone with potency to shatter their worlds.  Though he never glanced back at either of them, Touma and Noriko could feel Ryuichi's intensity far surpassing its usual grandeur. The force behind the words seemed to call them to a challenge, to match the singer's talent with their own.

"Kuzureru hodo."   

It was on. No worrying about saving voice for the many songs to follow. It would hold. This Ryuichi promised himself, as his lips nearly caressed the warm microphone in hand. The bass continued to pound, becoming one with the singer's heart, his body. Pounding, driving his motions. Every movement poured forth from his body like liquid silk. Touching greatness, his body strained, while feeling no pain. It was like morphine, to the point where even he was unable to feel what he did, or why.

            Explosions of color flashed, only exposing the musicians for seconds to the light. Not white light, comprising all colors, but violet light highlighted Ryuichi, making his pale skin glow like moon dust. Glancing to his left, he caught sight of Touma, shining in turquoise, much like the color of his eyes. He was suited to the evening lights, as they glistened over him, only giving Ryuichi and the audience teases, before shifting passed. Ryuichi never let the vigor in his voice die. He was Touma's fan. He was Noriko's fan. He was only a participant in this scene, empting from his cords the fervor they all felt.

            Ryuichi ran a hand through his sweaty hair, slicking it with fallen glitter, as the synthesizers blared on, allowing his voice a moment of rest he did not want. The makeup they'd so carefully dusted to his face smeared by the mere graze of his hand. Their image of perfection was so easily broken. That was never what it was about in the first place.

The rush. The incredible crescendo. Ryuichi, Touma and Noriko blended together to create the kind of music they wanted to hear, a kind of music no one yet knew. No one ever made him feel like this. No one could match it, until Bad Luck. As the words flowed from his lips, the end of the first song approaching quickly, he didn't forget to look back passed the equipment, where he knew a certain pink haired singer watched, always a fan, and forever the future. To even have a small part in creating him, Ryuichi's eyes couldn't linger any longer, as he turned back to the crowd with fluid motion, maybe then, his work was truly done.

"sotto dakishimete  zutto tsukamaete  motto kokoro made kowasu you ni"

            A skilled hand floated just above a rough canvas, the paintbrush held by his fingers connecting to the white in a long curving stroke. It was early morning, yet Tatsuha Uesugi never felt so awake as he did now. Inspiration called him away from tire, to continue feeding off the natural high a Nittle Grasper concert could bestow. He gave little thought to the motions of his hand, simply preferring to release his energy through creative form. In a darkened room, such as his own, it was easy to recreate the scene in his mind, to remember the music, letting it carry into his body, making his heart pound. Thousands of other bodies captured his between them, moving, sharing heat, barely conscious of how or why…maybe not even caring.  

            Tatsuha calmly sighed, stopping mid-stroke to run both hands through his hair. The gods had stood at the center, as always, their heat escaping into the cool night's air, too good for the masses. Touma Seguchi was no god, yet on stage, Tatsuha seemed to forget the fact that Touma was a man he knew well, no different from anyone else. In his mind, Tatsuha could still see Ryuichi Sakuma's body slick from sweat, as the lights reflected off the finer tones of his body, enticing the crowd. To think that that guy was a normal person, like Touma. Tatsuha chuckled. "Maybe I'd hate Sakuma-san just as much," he joked to himself quietly, once again taking up his paintbrush. Never. Hating someone you loved for years and years would never happen, he reminded himself.  As Tatsuha's paintbrush moved, he could feel his eyes becoming unfocused, yet he kept painting in vibrant acrylics. He couldn't feel himself painting that body in detail. Not tonight. The atmosphere was too overpowering, and once again, his hand moved across the canvas, mixing a strange array of plum and black into the background, popping the stage effects all the more within the picture. Rainbow lights had circled the stage, like a broken prism. Ryuichi's face, often obscured by momentary darkness, made him wonder all the more what the man was like. Maybe he was just as much a mystery as portrayed on stage.

            On a whim, Tatsuha reached over to his desk, avoiding the paint tubes, to press the scan button on his stereo. He was sure he'd left the first Nittle Grasper album still within the player. Track 2. "Sleepless Beauty".  The track began softly, previously turned low from before, yet Tatsuha quickly twisted the knob. The beats became more intense, and Ryuichi's golden voice followed, more polished, and less forceful than at the concert.

            The atmosphere of the night's concert quickly began to dominate Tatsuha's painting, and he scowled with every stroke. It wasn't that great. The feelings he'd gotten couldn't be translated into art anyway… Not by him. His abilities felt inadequate. If he was going to waste his time painting a concert, it should have been art centered around Ryuichi, like it usually was. 

"Damn. Why am I wasting my time," he grumbled, lazily embellishing the colors of the stage lighting. His strange urge to capture the mystery of Ryuichi even caused him to obscure the lead singer's face with shadow. Touma and Noriko were practically silhouettes, overtaken by the dreamlike colors.

"Looks like a shit fest to me." Tatsuha mixed a new shade of turquoise, a bit darker, adding it to where Touma's shadow fell.  If only the music hadn't pumped him up so much. He could have left with that girl he met… At the moment, he couldn't recall her name. A strip of paper, with name and number, was safely tucked inside the pocket of his jeans, yet he had no desire to even look at it. It was of no use to him at the moment.

            With a strong artistic background in objects, rather then scenery, it seemed all the more pointless to Tatsuha that he should be painting something like this. But as a rule, the young monk never failed to finish what he started.  "Maybe I can give it to Touma," he said, thinking aloud, "Mika will shit a brick if I don't get something for his birthday anyway… less money I have to spend." 

"Come on Kumagoro!"  Ryuichi cheerfully picked up his pink bunny by the head. "Good job protecting my hat, na no da. That show was great, ne? It was so colorful and shiny!"

            With his free hand, Ryuichi lifted his cowboy hat from the floor, placing it back onto his head for the trip back. Unfortunately, now the tour was finished. Instead of preparing for their next stop, they were having congratulation parties, almost as if everyone knew it was the big ending, and they just weren't saying anything. Ryuichi had stayed as long as they were celebrating. Now, with so many people already gone, the force started to hit him, making his heart feel heavy, like lead. Ryuichi pressed Kumagoro closely against his chest for consolation. They'd made it by themselves before, he and Kumagoro could do it again.

To be continued…  (with more dialogue)