His singing made her imagine, just for a moment
Title: Musically Momentary
Theme: Senshi/Shitennou: Day 2, Winter Sports, sm_monthly , January 2009
Also prompted by Adins' scribbling at the Shitennou forums
Genre: Romance-ish
Rating: PG13
Makoto entered the lodge, stamping her feet hard like swarm around her. Propping her snowboard up in a stand, she brushed a hand down the length, sweeping the snow away to land in little white heaps at her booted feet.
Moving in the crowd towards the bar, she stripped off her heavy gloves and whipped them against her thigh to dislodge any stubborn snow. Sticking them into her pocket, she unzipped her jacket, ordered a beer, and squeezed into a recently emptied stool. She took a drink and sighed.
That last run had been murder in the most awesome of ways. She was going to be sore tomorrow.
Flexing her arms to give them a bit of a stretch, Makoto glanced around when she heard somebody pluck away some notes.
In front of the fireplace, elevated slightly, a brunette stood tuning his guitar. Long brown hair fell across his shoulders. Simple in his white button-down and jeans, Makoto suddenly felt self-conscious in her hoodie and puffy snowboarding pants. Vaguely, she touched her hair; it was still in a high ponytail, but strands were escaping all over the place and the static made her feel rough and uncouth.
Shrugging, she gave an inward self-deprecating laugh. It was a snow lodge. People looked no better and no worse than she did.
A girl walked by, pulling off her beanie, and Makoto stifled a laugh. The girl's short hair looked slicked back like a helmet, laying flat to the contours of her head.
Makoto shook her ponytail a bit, feeling it wobble side to side. Apparently she was better off than some.
"Hi," interrupted her train of thoughts.
Whooping and cheering ensued.
Grinning easily, the guitar player said, "I'm going to start things off easy-"
A short-haired blonde sitting in the front booed good-humoredly.
"-just to warm up. Then," he winked, "we'll see where we end up."
The blonde who had booed tossed something at the guitarist, who ignored it easily enough, not even bothering to dodge whatever it was.
The people directly in front of the guitarist quieted, but the rest of the lodge was still bustling with people trying to get in to be done with the day or out for one last run. Makoto strained to hear the beginning notes, and when she didn't, she stood to weave closer.
The strands in your eyes
That color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath
Makoto paused mid-stride, letting the voice wash over her. He wasn't amazing, but he had a soothing quality that went perfectly with the song. She wondered how he could do anything more upbeat; it didn't seem to fit with his soft voice.
You're my love survival
You're my living proof
My love is alive
Not dead
She wondered whom he was singing to. Who was keeping his love alive?
She imagined it was one of the girls who had gathered around him, looking at him adoringly.
Ah, the life of a musician. Makoto could only imagine it.
I've been dropped out
Burned up
Fought my way back from the dead
Tilting her glass back to finish her beer, Makoto lowered it and saw him looking intently at her.
Looking down, she shuffled her feet, placing her glass on a nearby table and fiddling with the zipper on her jacket before looking back up.
He had kicked up a booted foot to rest on the stool. But he was still watching her, as if he had a message for her.
Tell me
That we belong together
Dress it up
With the trappings of love
Makoto smiled and leaned her head back against the pillar she had managed to find an empty spot on.
She closed her eyes.
I'll be captivated
I'll hang from your lips
She didn't know if she actually did, but she wanted to feel his gaze on her. She wanted him to look at her. But knowing that might not actually be the case, she lost herself in the music, allowing herself to be, just for a moment, one of those girls.
I'll be your crying shoulder
I'll be love's suicide
One of those girls who pretended to believe the song, to get the musician.
I'll be beter when I'm older
Makoto was many things, feminine and masculine, homely and sporty, gentle and tough, but she was not – usually – one of those girls.
It was too much pretending, for her and for him, for something so transparent that would only last so long.
Tuned in
Turned on
So, she was usually ardently very much so not one of those girls. But in that moment, as the last notes faded away into applause, she thought for a moment that she might be.
Emeralds from mountains
Thrust toward the sky
Never revealing their depth
Makoto opened her eyes and walked away, without bothering to notice where his gaze was now.
He had a nice voice, and she supposed he played well. She didn't really know – she just knew it didn't sound bad.
But she knew that what made him good was that he had made her something she was not, however momentarily. Makoto could not deny him that.
The song, sung by him, played over and over in her head. Despite the revelry and the chaotic mood that surrounded her as the lodge emptied of the families and filled with the mingling of the sexes, mingled mostly by alcohol, the song persisted.
She was drumming her fingers on the bar to the tune, waiting for a round of beers, when a slightly familiar voice sounded.
Just as it had a couple hours earlier.
"Hi."
I'll be better when I'm older
There was no support this time. No cheering. No hollering. No guitar.
Just him. And her.
Makoto swallowed, neither allowing nor disallowing her heart to beat faster. She simply felt it working furiously of its own accord, as it was wont to do in these situations.
Smiling at the bartender who had suddenly appeared with her order and her total, she paid quickly, gathering up the drinks and turning to the tall brunette.
His lips were spread in that easy grin, his stance friendly, and his head tilted to the side as he waited.
I'll be the greatest fan of your life
"Hi."
end
Offset italics are lyrics from Edwin McCain's "I'll Be"
