Title: Captivated
Author: mao
Disclaimer: Velvet Goldmine belongs to Michael Stipe, Todd Haynes, and a lot of other people, most namely not me. I'm just a poor teenager not trying to make any money from this, and if you sue me, all you'll get is some soda bottles.
Author's Notes: Very, very brief. Worked on this while trying to ignore Ewan McGregor hopping about nude. I am so strong...and so dumb. At least I can re-wind and watch again.
Warnings: None, really.
There's nothing overly special about him, at first glance. He's almost ugly, actually. Maybe if he took care of himself, showered more often, did fewer drugs...maybe then he'd be attractive.
But he's...he's arresting. That first night, hopping about the stage like a mad thing, you knew. It was sudden, curious. You never thought you'd meet a man like this, never thought there'd be anyone like this. Ever.
No matter what anyone else said about him - the jokes about his drug use, the stories of his incestuous upbringing and 'shocking' experiences (how Cecil laughed over that pun!). In that moment, when his clear, simple voice screamed out above the chattering of the crowd, a beam of sound, a song in itself, and the light came on - a single spot on him, skin supple and soft, and oh! how you longed to carress it! - and he was pure magic. He hopped about, removed his clothes, shimmered in glitter - and you could not take your eyes off him.
It never even occurred to you that people like this existed. There was a vitality to him - he was more alive than anyone you'd ever seen before. More comfortable in his own skin. More than just flesh and bone and skin and muscle. There was a fire in him, maybe from the mix of skag and coke before every performance, maybe from the shock treatment.You would never knew, nor would you care, even when it all went sour.
In that moment when he hopped and shook, glitter flying from him lik water from a puppy, you were captivated.
In that moment, you were his.