Lost Rhythm Rhapsody

Losing the Beat

Dark dank disturbing, maybe a flair that he enjoyed more than others knew. The others? Stars, glowsticks, strings, necklaces, bracelets among the dark. Maybe he saw a face here and there. Maybe it was his imagination. But his eyes were on a bright spot of white, the Sun among those madly dancing stars, his dance was liquid gold, the sunshine that came off of him didn't light up anything around him. Though... it seemed people near him picked up the exotic movements. And the DJ watched as he spun, tried to match that man's moves to his music, or was the foreign man controlling his scratch, his spin, with every swing and twist of his shoulders and hips...?

He waved to the person in the shadows behind him, an exact replica of himself it seemed. "Jax, care to take over?"

"PSH, Jack Spicer, as flighty as ever. Sure thing, but you know I can do better than you anyday." Jack shoved his robot's shoulder, with a playful warning laugh.

"Just do the job, I'll be back." He finished spinning and handed the huge headphones over to Jax, who put them on and pushed him out of the booth.

"Have fun, you damn flirt."

"When have I done otherwise, Tinman?" With a sassy swing, he jumped out of the towerlike booth at the push, leaving the robot to work.

Through the crowd of Raving people, Jack danced his way towards what he wanted, towards the Brazillian dancing in the center of the mass of twisting, flinging movement. Why did he have to be so HARD to get to? It was a challenge, he knew it, but he should have known better than to taunt Jack at his own game. Trip and clutz about as he might, on the dancefloor or skating rink, Spicer was a different man.

His red hair shone under the blacklight, thanks to his new hair dye, and he had various glow bracelets and a spike collar that showed up as well, his fingernails painted with glowing swirls, his shirt glowing with stains of blacklight paints, and most eerily of all, his contacts took up the light as well, red eyes of a demon.

The Raving Demon.

Some people moved aside, in this city, DJ was an honorable title... underworld politics aside, he just looked that goddamn cool. At least, he thought so. And he was so close. But that spot of white disappeared, damn that Pedrosa! Jack wondered briefly what was happening, he had this inkling of an idea that something was wrong.

So? head for the bar, he was sure to be seen there, as much as the Brazillian hated drinking, one of his family, a sister of his ran the bar for Jack when Kimiko was out. And, today being the Japanese girl's day off, Raimundo could in theory be at the bar. HA. Outthought again.

A mental war was all it was. They'd grown up playing these games, and now it was no different. Police versus DJ was just an acronym for Monk versus Goth Boy.

But this time it was better. Because Jack was winning.

Perhaps scaling down his dream was the best thing Jack had ever done. The world? Overrated. All he needed was this city.

A place where everyone was always dancing. Wallflowers? He threw them out of his club. People were on a constant search for themselves, for fun, for a new powerful rythm, for drugs, for someone to share a bed with, occasionally a heart as well... it was all a quest to be the best, or the worst. And Jack had it in his head he'd get his club going... he had it in his head, behind his blazing red eyes, that this city filled with clubs, the True Sleepless City, it was as good as all his.

But, one thing evaded him.

As much fun as he'd had with Raimundo, there was no connection, a connection he hungered for. Lust was lust, and he was thinking that's all it was, and he knew Raimundo knew too. As much of a "Loner" as Jack was, he was sick of it. Sick of waking up alone, sick of waiting, sick of one-night stands with guys and girls who onl wanted a piece of the Swift DJ, the Savant Raver. What were they calling him these days?

The Raver Demon.

The bar swam into sight, out of the shallows of his reverie and into conscious waking reality. It seemed to be the only real place in the club, where warm light shone, if a bit dim, so unlike the techno-ethereal glow of smoke, of laser, of blacklight. A bit homey, Jack liked it.

Of course he liked it. He built it.

And, to be sure, there was Raimundo Pedrosa. City Police, occasional lover... Avoiding his gaze. Great.

But Jack was certain that he had taken notice of him. So he leaned on the bar beside him, neither one looking at the other.

"This is probably it Jack. My patrol is being transferred. To another City, I mean, way far."

There was a pang. Damn it, it hurt. Worse than he'd ever imagined it could. He leaned a bit more heavilly on the bar. "You're a liar, you'd come back here to visit your sister, right?" He found himself grasping... Hoping.

"I see her at home... I won't be able to make it back. This is the last time I'm going to be here." A note... a crack in the thick, warm accent. Great.

So Jack had been wrong.

He'd taken it for granted? Fuck. Great.

there was a connection the whole time, and he'd been too stupid to see it, too thik, to damnass cocky--

Too late.

"So, when are you out of here?" He asked, fiddling idlely with a shotglass, immersed in the way it bent the light, the image behind it, the way it bent reality, and another part of him focusing on finding Raimundo's voice when he replied.There was a longer pause than he would have liked, and it hurt just as bad as when he had heard the news.

"Probably... around ten this morning. So... I was goin' to just get outta' here now, looks like I can't escape from you though." His voice was a bit heavier, once again.

"Again, I say: Liar. You lead me here." Jack was only loud enough for the Policeman to hear. "I know you better than that. maybe you were going to run off..." His tone became more teasing, no matter what happened, Jack seemed to bounce back at an unnatural pace. "But you were guilty, and lead me up here, am I right? Couldn't bear to leave without saying 'Adios' to your old pal."

"... Fucking Blanco. Get out of my head, they always said you had the Evil Eye." For the first time that night, Jack felt the gaze of the Brazillian on him and, a hand on his shoulder, warm through his mesh shirt. His face pinked a bit more than he would have liked. Damn that Pedrosa. "You up for one more go?"

Jack could have melted, pushing away the sorrow that followed those words and reveling in the feel of the moment.

"One more night." He'd make it good, he swore. Last chances made everything better. And worse. But he could deal with that.

Up to Jack's apartment-like room on the fourth floor, they raced up the stairs as if they were kids again, just themselves witness to the backward step in mindset. No one but the dedicated staff ever went up there anyway, so they were alone, shouts, laughs, echoes... for a moment, Jack could have sworn they were in fact back to the "old days", but the beat below reminded him otherwise. For how much he had changed, Raimundo had done nothing but get older, and wiser, his wit sharper but his face and trained body were still the same... Jack douldn't say that for himself. He may not have gotten much taller (attributed to an inhumane consumption of caffeine that continued to the present), but his shape had changed, he was thinner, a bit more muscular from night after night of spinning tracks and dancing, his face, though still round and pale, had also become more streamlined and a bit angular, his eyes had lost their innocence, but not their mirth, and they had gained measure of their own fire and cunning. Demon cunning. Whe they reached Jack's door, he fumbled for the keys, getting father from his gols as raimundo nipped and kissed at his neck, around the spiked collar.

And in they went. The door closed behind them, and a dance so different from the Rave below began.

They were so opposite, Jack could see that as they undressed eachother, slipping from their shells to stand for a moment before eachother, hand reaching out to pull eachother closer, to intwine again, for one last time. It was like a moving painting, white skin airbrushed with red and pink flush of exhertion sliding against rich tanned skin, sliding against the grey sheets of the bed. Jack's reality was bending like light and image through the shotglass, pleasure, moisture, friction, whispers, breaathing, heartbeats were all in the same. Bittersweet kisses and bucking bodies, lips on his chest, moving ever downward, the feel and scent of Raimundo's hair. Even later the eperience stood out to him so vividly, so strangely surreal, as if it were all a dream as well as something he'd never forget. Even the sting of tears in his eyes when he realized that it could have been like that the whole time was a welcome sensation, just as it was welcome to Raimundo to feel those tears...

When at last he cried out and gave in to the passion, and Raimundo's hoarse Portugese murmur of pleasure and satisfaction mixed with his own voice, they lay still, holding eachother. Hands on eachother's faces, and Raimundo's wandered to Jack's hips. They didn't need to say anything. Their actions and heartbeats had told all, as if they had at last admitted through the sweat and languid movements and taken it into their very souls.

Still, Jack cried. He had always been emotional, never afraid to show his tears, even if it meant ridicule. This was it. The sound of shuffling sheets, and Raimundo pulled closer, ruffling his hair. "'M sorry Jack... so sorry..."

"Don't be. Best... best time of my life, really." Accepted. He was accepted. No one had ever appologized to him for anything... But it was over. He began fading to sleep, knowing he would wake up alone, and start again.

Loner? Not after this. Even if it hadn't lasted like they wanted, parting helped them both understand. They would get up, wipe away the tears, and start again. The lessons they had taught eachother since chilhood were now understood. The Raving Demon and the Fierce Typhoon parted ways.

But they had given eachother strength. wherever they were, they would remember this night, and how long they had been together, friends, rivals, enemies, and abrief flash of being lovers. Each one for the other's sake would now move on.

Wipe away the tears, get up, and try again.

So... I used to be known as Sonoran Silver... as Destiny Waterborn. Now I'm Loki DeZia, a much more fitting pen-name. My style has changed a lot, in art and in writing. A few notes on the fic:

It takes place in the role-play world on Gaia Online, my own tsuDAKI City. It is AU, but picks up where Xiaolin Showdown leaves off. Jack is about nineteen in the fic, possibly older. I'll do more chapters, each with a different pairing. Tell me what you think, constructive critisism is most welcome. First fic I've written in a long time... So naturally I'm rusty.