The bar was dimly lit. Just the way he liked it. And since the red dye was no longer in his newly blond hair, he haden't been inturrupted by a fan recognizing him at all! This was great. Or maybe it was just that the people in Los Angeles could really care less who he was when he was off stage? Either way, Daisuke's night out was going exactly how he wanted it. Small sconces spilled amber tones over the alcohol enthusiests, while the patrons into darker luxiouries sat on plush couches doused in black light on the other side of the VIP only establishement. Daisuke was one of the former, relaxing back in the rich green leather adorned booth. Close enough to see the people outside clearly, but far enough away not to attract attention to himself by the window shoppers outside.
Living in this city was starting to remind him of what it must feel like to be a fish in a bowl. Even compared to Tokyo, which one could already deem alien to The States, it wasn't as alien to everything he'd grown up around. Not in the sense that all his traditions and customs weren't common here, but in the sense that Los Angeles was a town full of actors, models, musicians, and entertainers. Who just so happened to have a day job as well. To Daisuke, he was living in a movie. And everyone outside of it was dying to peek in at it. Paparazzi were chasing down cars of pop singers who's names he could barely pronounce. Small grocery store newsletters gossiped about what celebrity was dating what celebrity, and so forth. It was a bubble that seemed to not only sustain itself, but every source of entertainment in The States, and fingering it's way all the way back to his homeland.
The night life had made his dayly english lessons, a little slower going than they should have been. But it was his dime so he'd take it at any pace he felt like that day. He was getting a lot of practice, as well as a lot of laughs, from his american friends who were nice enough to let him butcher their language. And the more he drank, the more they laughed. English had so many double meanings. It also seemed the more drunk his friends got, the more perverse they took his attempts at conversation. They were starting to count the amount of times they could make Daisuke blush in a night by making him seem like a pervert.
"Mekura.." He smirked at his most recent memory of it.
"Hey! No Japanese tonight You promised me." Daisuke's eyes flashed upwards to the chestnut haired japanese man standing above him waiting to be invited to his table. Kaoru had also brought another taller, and also familiar face to join their night of drinking and war stories. Shedding the formalities, Daisuke quickly waived for the pair to join him on the opposing bench seat. As his legs and feet were proped up, filling the rest of his own. While he had never actually met Miyavi in person, they were in the same business. The pair quickly did as requested.
"Hajimemashite, er.." Miyavi quickly shot a glance back to Kaoru who was obviously keen on the idea of speaking in english only for the night. "I mean, nice to meet you Die." Finishing his greeting to Daisuke. Calling him by his stage name, instead of his birth name. Which was fine with Daisuke as he didn't know what Miyavi's parents would have called him by either.
"Hello." He wasn't to sure what to make of the event. Miyavi haden't seemed like a likely person to suddenly show up somewhere with Kaoru. Daisuke wondered if this was a business meeting and he was simply uninformed? "The pleasure is mine." The waitress was back bahind the bar grabbing drinks for another table, but Daisuke let her know he wanted two more of exactly what he was drinking. The busty blonde nodded and winked in his general direction before fluttering off to serve the drinks she was already carrying.
"I would have brought Yoshiki as well, but he had unfinished work." Kaoru added, giving Daisuke the missing peice to the puzzle of why Miyavi had joined them.
"Oh. I see. I hope he's been well." Running an hand through is shoulder length hair, he took in the bright outfit that their new friend was wearing. The pinks and neon colors and vivid contrast to the earthy and dark hues that Kaoru and Daisuke prefered. "I'll have to go visit him sometime now that I've settled in." The waitress distracted him, in more ways than one, for a moment to set their drinks on the table. The other good thing about Los Angeles, the women all looked like plastic dolls. What they had naturally, or what they payed for, made little difference. They all looked the same, and they all looked perfect. The men too, for that matter. Daisuke found himself looking at both genders equally for their charms. It all depended on his mood. After a few bounces and a smile of gratitude for the generous tip the waitress was off again parusing for the next customer who needed a refill.
"Miyavi." He announced, just in case the other had not known his name. He also extended his hand in traditional american greeting. "Thank you." Miyavi flashed his trademark smile and took a healthy sip from his beer. You could have looked around for the camera, it was straight out of a comercial for how perfect and fluid his movements were. "I'm still not used to how dry it is here. You can get rather thirsty." His english was good. Much clearer than Kaoru or Daisuke's. But Miyavi had been living in Los Angeles on and off for the last three years. The pair had just recently moved with the rest of their band in tow, only a couple of months prior. "So, do you like it here?" Miyavi bounced lightly in his seat as he spoke. Always a ball of energy, he was never quite able to sit completely still for long periods of time. He ran hand through his hair, which was now well past his shoulders. The longest parts resting at mid chest with hot pink tips.
"As I'm sure you know, " Kaoru spoke first. It had become habit to let him do so in a group setting from years of him being the leader of the band. So much in fact that Daisuke almost felt like it was an interruption if he spoke before the other. "We've always enjoyed our tours here. And the friends we made then have helped us settle in quite nicely." Daisuke simply nodded and drank his beer. It was accurate. As he opened his mouth to speak, Kaoru's phone rang. "I'll be right back. Remember! No japanese speaking while I'm gone." He have a friendly grimace to Daisuke and retreated to the doorway of the bar to answer his call. A moment later Daisuke continued.
"I've been here before. Just for vacation, but I like it. Lots of attractive people to look at." His voice was flat and matter of fact. He watched his glass as he spun it. The comment had surprised even him flying out of his mouth. But there was no way for Miyavi to know that he was included in the group of people Daisuke had enjoyed looking at. He could never be that forward anyway.
"Indeed. I see why people here never marry!" He joked. The smile broadened across his pale cheeks. It was contageous and Daisuke could have sworn that in that moment everyone else in the room was smiling with him. In the matter of a few seconds, Kaoru was back at the table apologizing for having to leave the two and handle some business from the phone call he had just taken.
Daisuke winked and cheered, "Sayonara!" in his thickest accent just to piss the other off on his way out. Bad enough to know he was the worst english speaker at the table, but now to be stuck there with a man he'd just met. Not to mention, maybe had a small crush on, with nothing in common to talk about -other than playing guitar- for god know's how long? Screw you, Kaoru!
"Oh, that sucks that he had to go. We were just starting to have fun, ne?" Another smile. Daisuke really wanted to ask him to stop doing that. Instead he stared at the hot pink strands of hair at Miyavi's chest and chugged the second hald of his beer. Setting it back down on the table he nodded in agreement.
"It would be better if there was kareoke here." He mumbled. Nothing was better than getting drunk and singing bad pop songs.
"Hai! Kareoke! It's so nice to meet someone who's not too cool for it here. Most of my friends will only get up and sing with me if I do it first." Miyavi tapped his feet under the table to the beat of the song on the jukebox.
"I don't do it too often. But when I'm in the mood for it, it's like a burning in my chest the whole night, until they let me up there." It was his turn to smile again. He was sure his cheeks had turned to a shade of pink. The waitress had brought him another beer, this time a little miffed that he'd barely noticed her and handed her the money without even making eye contact. Miyavi's presence seemed to dwarf everything else in the room while he spoke.
"I know what you mean. Sometimes, you just wanna have some fun." Miyavi laid his head back on the top of the bench seat and stared down through his long dark eyelashes back at Daisuke, one eyebrow perched higher than the other. The blond, who had been resting his elbows on the table, and unknowingly leaning further in as Miyavi spoke each time, realized his doings and quickly sat back up straight. He pretended to stretch his back in hopes that the multi-color haired guitarist might not notice.