A/N: Hey, my first multi-chapter fic containing actual yaoi! I've decided on ActaeonShipping (SHOCK OF THE CENTURY!). I had a tough time deciding on an AU, but I finally decided on one. Everyone is obviously humanized. I do not own anything other the cover. As for warnings... There is cursing, odd humor, alcohol, obviously boyxboy relationships, and something I cannot reveal because if I did, I'd reveal a key point in this fanfic. And I am unsure about whether or not I should include the hardcore stuff...
The ebony-haired male exhaled as he got off the bus, finally reaching his destination. He blinked his red eyes, stretching a bit. The wind blew a bit, causing him to grip his black, jacket. He wished that he wore heavier clothing, or more layers, that just a simple jacket, gray jeans, and a simple dark, gray shirt that had a small, faint golden zigzag around the collar. The cold was beginning to take over his body, and he cursed himself because of that. He soon shrugged off such thoughts as he approached a two-story building.
A neon sign above it said, The Guild Cafe. The bricks that made the building had dark, pink dots with faded feather patterns. Blue curtains covered the windows, yet the color of the lights inside were seen. The door had some faded out music notes. Sighing, he finally entered the building. The inside was more reminiscent of a bar, rather than a cafe. Only a few people were present. But what really caught the male's attention was the small stage. Different colored lights hanging with light blue curtains. There was a small drum set, keyboard, and guitar case on the stage. Obviously, someone must be performing something, even though not many people care about tricks, singing, and dancing nowadays.
Exhaling, the male decided to get a drink. He sat down, next to someone who was smoking and apparently not bothered by his presence The bartender then showed up. He looked as bit odd. His hair was shoulder-length, curled at the bottom, peach colored with tan streaks. He wore a tee that had orange paint splashes, and a white jacket. According to his name tag, he was apparently called Spinda.
"So, what's your poison?" He asked, wiping a glass. "We got specials, simple drinks, soda with some rum..."
"The cheapest yet sufficient special you got." The ebony-haired male replied.
"Gotcha." Spinda said, snapping his fingers, getting right to work.
The male sighed as he looked at the stage, waiting for his drink. His red eyes were clouded with gloom.
"Heh. Never thought I'd see some cub get a drink." A somewhat raspy voice snickered. "You're Dusknoir, right? The new cub of the paper known as the Temporal Report?"
"...What?" The red-eyed male looked to his right, getting a better look at the one who was smoking a cigarette.
"You are that cub, right?"
"Er, yes. Yes I am."
Apparently, it was a boy, perhaps a teenager, but he seemed mature. His hair appeared to be a dark purple, most likely dyed because tan hair was slightly visible. When comparing his clothes to Dusknoir's, he could be a stereo-typical gang-leader. He wore a slightly, tattered leather jacket that was an incredibly dark, indigo color, along with a gray shirt that had a purple smoke pattern. His black jeans hugged his legs. And he was still snickering.
"So, who are you?" Dusknoir asked, frowning at the teen's chuckles.
"Me? The name's Skuntank." He replied, taking out his cigarette, and flinging it into the garbage on the other side of the counter. "I used to be the chief of a tiny band that performed during parties and stuff. But, my buddies both moved away. We still K-I-T though, albeit not a lot."
"...Oh. I-I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. Friends come and go, right?"
"I suppose so." Dusknoir said. His drink soon arrived, and he thanked Spinda.
Skuntank chuckled. He turned around, looking at the stage. Dusknoir's eyes soon followed his. There were two people on the stage. Both were male. One had incredibly, brown hair and hazel eyes. He wore a tan polo shirt along with blue jeans that were obviously too big. His shoes were just sneakers, but they appeared to be worn out. He was holding a guitar. The other male seemed to be a few inches taller. His hair was a faint, red. He wore a white shirt with red wave patterns and white colored jeans. His sneakers were a similar case with the brunette's. Both were sitting down, speaking in whispers. They nodded, smiling. And that's when the brunette started to strum the guitar. The red-head began to use his legs as drums, even though there was a set on the stage already. They soon started to sing in a wonderful harmony.
"...Hey. Do you know what song they're singing?" Dusknoir asked.
Skuntank tilted his head. "Hm? Well... I'm not sure, but I think it's called Cooler Than Me. These two usually do covers of songs like that."
"So, just who are they?"
"The one with the guitar is Bidoof. Young dude, only about sixteen. Yet he's one heck of a player. The one drumming without a drum is Corpish. He's a year older than Bidoof. Like him, dude's talented. And boy, can they sing!"
"Hm. They sure can." Dusknoir said. "Quite odd. Not a lot care about these types of talent. And if they did, the ones they chose are nothing but low-life scum looking for money and fame, nothing more." (1)
Skuntank chuckled, but soon frowned. "Agreed. But that's why the The Guild's Cafe exists. Some actual talented people, who are respectful, gather here to perform. This is how they, and the cafe, or rather bar, makes some good dough. Ey, you see that door?"
The purple-head pointed to a faded, blue colored door, it was right next to the stage. On the door, it said, Authorized Only.
"Apparently, Bidoof and Corpish are one of the few people that actually sleep here. Ya see, the boss of this place, Wigglytuff, specifically made this place for performers of musical talents. And in return for a place to stay, they help boost the business. And they get paid a bit in return for performing." Skuntank explained. "Pretty cool, huh? And in case you're wondering, the rooms aren't too big or too small. There are twelve rooms. They're also the rooms where the performers change. There is a backstage, though."
"Very interesting." Dusknoir replied.
"It sure is. But those two aren't the only good singers here." Skuntank stated. "There's one that actually stays here ninety-nine percent of the time. His job is to pratically sing here. Bless his little soul."
Soon, Bidoof and Corpish's performance was over. The small audience clapped, letting out small cheers. The two high-fived each other before jumping off the stage, and entering the door that led to the rooms that Skuntank talked about. The sound of the entrance door opening caught the attention of the two sitting at the bar counter. And what they saw was a male. He seemed to be the same age as Skuntank. He had golden eyes. His long hair was an incredible, forest green color, and was pulled into a ponytail. Some of the bangs slightly covered the top of his left eye. He wore a dark, emerald jacket. The pockets had faded, red fern patterns. Beneath that, was a simple dark, red collared shirt. Similar to Skuntank, his jeans, which was a dull green color, hugged his legs. His shoes weren't very fancy, just a plain, pale red color. He also had finger-less gloves that were a pallid red with a jade fern pattern bordering the hem. The most notable thing he had was a necklace, a blue cogwheel as the pendant.
"Well, look who took his sweet ass time!" Skuntank was smirking, leaning against the counter.
The green-head frowned. "Tch. Shut up. I had business to attend to."
"Whatever." Skuntank waved him off. "Bidoof and Corpish already did their song. And you don't have to worry about bringing the keyboard out, but you need to bring the seat out."
"...I don't really care." The golden-eyed boy stated. He soon noticed Dusknoir. "Aren't you that newbie cub of the Temporal Report?"
Dusknoir cleared his throat, ignoring the newbie cub remark. "Yes. I am, and may you please not refer to me as cub?"
"I wish I could, but I think I need your name." The younger male said, lightly smirking.
"Well, G, this dude here is Dusknoir." Stuntank exclaimed, grinning.
G...? The ebony-haired male thought.
"Dusknoir, huh?" The green-head mused. He snickered. "Well then, I suppose that it is nice to meet one of the many cubs of the famous Temporal Report."
He then walked on stage, disappearing behind its gray curtains.
"Skuntank, do you know who that was?" Dusknoir asked. "And why do you call him... G?"
"Ah. That was Grovyle. The people who go here like to give nicknames to those who perform, much to the dismay of the nicknamed." Skuntank explained. The purple-head chuckled. "And you get to see how well the dude plays and sings. Man, he can play any type of piano like a pro! He can sing like one, too!... Well, to me and his buddies."
The sounds of piano keys being struck softly resonated softly throughout the building. Everyone turned their attention to the stage. And as Skuntank said, Grovyle was playing the keyboard, fingers dancing over the keys, creating a soft tune. After a few notes, he started to sing.
"As usual, he decided to choose a song to change the place's smooth, calm mood." Skuntank explained, crossing his arms, chuckling. "Luckily, the song he chose is like the others, excellent."
Dusknoir titled his head. This is quite the somber song, but it is utterly beautiful. Where have I heard it before? It's so familiar.
The performance was soon over. Grovyle stood, stretching a bit. The small audience released an applause Smirking, the green-head did a small bow before hopping off the stage and entering the blue door.
That song... Where have I heard it before? Those lyrics, and the tone of it... It's so familiar. Dusknoir thought.
"Uh, excuse me? M-May I please receive the payment for your drink?" Spinda asked, snapping the ebony-haired male out of his thoughts.
"Oh. Y-Yes. Sorry." He muttered, pulling out ten dollars from his pocket, handing it to Spinda. "You can keep the change."
"If you say so." Spinda replied, grinning.
"I guess you're leaving soon, eh?" Skuntank asked, taking out his phone, looking at the time.
"I suppose so." Dusknoir said, looking at the blue door.
"Well, I gotta go, too." Skuntank announced. "Nice meeting ya, Dusknoir. Hope to see you around some time. Well... I'm bouncing!" (2)
With that, the purple-head hopped out of seat, and exited the building, whistling. Dusknoir sighed.
I should leave now. I may have a day off tomorrow, but I would like some sleep. He thought to himself as he got up, sighing. He looked around the small so-called-cafe, then left.
As Dusknoir entered his apartment, the song soon began to invade his thoughts once more. Why does that song sound so familiar to me? In fact, that guy... Grovyle was it...?... I swear I... I heard his voice before, yet it sounded so new... This is becoming to hard for me to process.
He exhaled. Maybe... I should visit there tomorrow. And see other talented people.
"Yes. That sounds like a good idea." And with that settled in, he finally slept.
A/N: I got it done... I got the first chapter done. Victory! Yes! And so... It is time for me to keep my busy schedule of updating TWO fanfics.
(1)- This is NOT how I think the music industry works. It may be true to others, and I agree, but I don't really think that the industry works like that all of the time and stuff...
(2)- Reference to My Bride Is A Mermaid/Seto no Hanayome.
...And I made Skuntank a gangster. Whoop-dee-fudgy-doo. (lol, wut?)