Author's Note: So I don't have much to say, since this is following the prologue so quickly. Except for, I hope you enjoyed the prologue (despite it being so brief) and hope you enjoy this!

Matinee Idol

Chapter One: The Hush Sound


Leon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before opening the door to the bar he was to start working at that night. He wasn't particularly excited about the prospect; in general he was not a fan of bars. This bar, Destati, happened to be what the owner had proudly referred to as an "alternate lifestyle, semi-burlesque dance joint". The description made Leon cringe and regret having accepted the job all the more. However, the money he'd earned at his last gig had long since disappeared, and he had been forced to dip into his savings account. The account was well-padded, considering how much he'd actually made in the last year, but his frugal nature made the dipping hurt that much more.

Inside, Destati did not look very different from any other bar, aside from the small stage at the back. Leon immediately stalked over to the break room he'd been shown during training, clocked in, and headed to the bar. He had never bartended before, but the owner and manager promised him there would be little need for it. They'd put him through the necessary classes and training, had him come in to mix a few drinks several days earlier, before opening for the night. But the clientele didn't care too much for the cocktails, they'd told him. Usually, customers filed in just before a show started, ordered a beer or two at their tables (where a waiter would serve them), watched the dances, and left.

In short, it was exactly the type of place Leon avoided for many different reasons. As he cleaned and set up the bar – following the instructions given him during training to a tee – he reminded himself that he had a full-time job set up for the fall, and that once the summer was over he would be rid of this place. But the thought of that impending employment also made him groan, so instead he focused on the task at hand, determined to be as single-minded as possible. Focusing intently on one thing at a time helped him to tune out all else and pass time more quickly.

Despite the time, and the bustle of a busy city's summer night outside the bar, Leon was on duty alone. The manager, owner, and head bartender were all out of town for a few days, so desperation had led to this arrangement. Leon supposed he should have been flattered that his new employers trusted him enough to leave him on his own for his first shift, but he took this more as an indication of their idiocy than his competence.

The first two hours of his shift passed uneventfully. No one entered the bar except the dancers, who immediately headed backstage to prepare for their show. As they passed, Leon ventured a quick glance at them; a tall lanky redhead with thorn-shaped tattoos under his eyes, a rather feminine looking man who had dyed his hair bright pink, and a boy Leon swore could not possibly be more than barely legal. The latter gave Leon a moment of intense uneasiness, but he figured it would be impossible for such a high-profile club to employ anyone underage.

Just before opening, Leon made his way to the staff restroom. As he washed his hands before returning to the floor, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Frowning, he pushed away his chestnut bangs, and traced the line of the scar that slashed across his features.

When he'd returned to his post, the crowd that had been rushing past all night had started to trickle in, and within minutes the bar was packed. As promised however, only a handful of the customers made their way to the bar. Leon prepared himself for their advances – something Destati's owner had warned him of – but his gruff demeanor and steeled eyes seemed to deter any desire.

The dancing started, and immediately the bar area emptied as the patrons moved to the seating closer to the stage. Leon watched the first performance – the pink-haired man announced as Marluxia – with little interest, opting instead to clean the bar. Second was the redhead with the strange tattoos, whose routine involved spinning a pair of flaming spheres held at the end of chains, choreographed to a techno song whose beat resounded through Leon's mind rather unpleasantly. The brunette was surprised to note that the redhead kept all of his clothes – which included only a pair of tight black jeans and tall motorcycle boots – on throughout the performance.

After the second dance ended, a hush fell over the audience and Leon quirked his brow at this. It was evident from just this sudden silence that the next dancer, most likely the young man Leon had seen walk in with the others, was the fan favorite.

The boy sauntered on stage in the dark, but he was still more than noticeable, as his silver hair shone, catching every tiny glimmer of light in the establishment. A low hum of bass began and Leon groaned, preparing for another annoying electronica song. The dancer was clad in black leather shorts, which Leon was positive were made for women, and a ripped white tank. As he began to move, the bartender struggled to keep his attention on his menial tasks.

As slim hips swung in slow, wide arcs, through the slashes in his shirt the boy's abs could be seen shifting and flexing with the movement. Though he was obviously on the younger side, it also had to be admitted that the boy was surprisingly built for his age. Not muscular necessarily, but lean and well toned.

Shaking his head and scoffing, Leon turned away and tried to find something else to do. Even if the boy were eighteen, it still made him a good eight years younger than the brunette. Unfortunately there was little left to be done as far as cleanup went, and so Leon found himself picking at his fingernails and leaning against the bar with his back to the stage. Still, it was impossible to ignore the attention and fixation of the audience. It seemed a palpable force, weighted with a gravity that pulled all thought to the stage, willing or not.

When the number ended, Leon nearly thanked God - something he had not been known to do in at least ten years. By then it was close to closing time, and he watched the patrons pour back out into the streets, noting that very few people were leaving alone though most of them had come in that way. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable in a public room so full of sexual energy.

"Mix me a drink?" someone asked as they weaved their way through the throng of people. Once they reached the bar Leon clenched his jaw, seeing that the request had been made by the silver-haired dancer.

"Show me your ID?" he muttered gruffly.

The boy laughed, smiling guiltily. "Fair enough," he conceded. He was breathing heavily, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his brow and arms. "You're the new guy, yeah? I'm Riku."

Leon glanced at the hand Riku offered him, then looked quickly away and went to grab a rag to wipe down the counter, which he had cleaned twice already. "Leon," he said shortly.

"What do you think so far?" Riku asked, climbing onto a barstool and leaning forward. Leon paused in his cleaning long enough to give the boy a quick survey. He was of average height, but that was just about all of him that was average. His long hair was the color of moonlight, and his overgrown bangs fell softly over his eyes. Even through the hair, though, Leon could see that Riku's eyes were a brilliant sea green in color, and never once flitted away from the brunette's face. Namely, his scar. In a rare moment of self-consciousness, Leon lowered his gaze and let his own hair curtain his face. He considered himself a confident man, but where the scar was concerned it was not difficult for him to falter.

"Well?" the dancer pressed after several long moments of silence on Leon's part.

The bartender shook his head in defeat. "It's not the kind of place I'd go to."

"Yeah, you don't seem the type," Riku replied laughingly. "Transitional period?" he guessed.

"You could say that."

The silver-haired one ran his hands through his hair and muttered. "It's amazing, the shit we'll do when we feel like we don't have any other options."

Leon stopped wiping his counter and regarded Riku carefully. The boy seemed a little sad, and Leon suddenly regretted having judged him in the same way he'd judged everyone in the bar that night. The brunette had assumed every one of the men in the joint – especially the dancers – was a typical, barhopping, sex mongering fool.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I get that."

"Let me guess," Riku said brightly, tilting his head and pushing his bangs behind his ears. "Struggling author?"

Leon stiffened. They were back to the questions, and he didn't like answering questions.

"Actor, then." Something about the brunette's expression must have given away that Riku had struck the right vein, because the boy laughed, then said, "I knew it. Had to be one of the two. You've got that starving artist air about you."

"Excuse me?" the bartender asked gruffly, turning full on towards the boy and rising to his full height.

Riku only smirked, then leaned across the bar to grab a pen from the other side. "Well if I haven't offended you," he trailed off, reaching out to take hold of Leon's hand and turn it over, palm up. "Maybe you'd give me a call sometime?"

Leon stood dumbstruck as the boy wrote a phone number on his palm. He tried to will himself to pull his hand away, refuse the offer, but he found he was unable to do so. All he could concentrate on was the way Riku's hair fell around his shoulders as he hunched over Leon's hand.

"See you tomorrow night?" Riku asked once he had finished inscribing the brunette's hand. Leon could do nothing but nod curtly as Riku hopped down off the stool and returned backstage.

For the rest of the night – the remainder of his shift and the drive home – Leon found himself worrying about whether or not he would accidentally rub Riku's number off of his palm. When he noticed this, upon entering his apartment, it bothered him that he was already so interested in the silver-haired boy. Sitting on the couch, the brunette cradled his head in his hands and breathed out slowly. He reminded himself that Riku was much younger than him, and practically a stripper at that. But still, the slow sway of the boy's hips and the obvious enchantment he'd held over the crowd at Destati would not leave Leon's mind.

Finally, he stood and made his way to the bathroom where he turned on the shower and stepped into the hot water gratefully.

Frowning, he looked down at his hand, then grabbed a bar of soap and scrubbed until all trace of those seven digits was removed.