Smash Hit

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Shinji/Kamio UST, more in future

Summary: Success hasn't come to Shinji and Kamio until they get a chance to play at the prestigious Atobe Keigo's concert. However, with many obstacles blocking thier way, can they make it to the top? AU, shounen-ai, bandfic

AN:...Chapter two, a week later! I was surprised I was actually interested in writitng it, I usually let stories rot... XD BUT NOT THIS ONE! Oho. I love to see these boys all... bannd-like. What to expect this chapter? Er, more ghei, Oshitari with make-up, super flashbacks, Fuji appears, Jiroh spazzes, and Kamio and Shinji are on stage. In that order.

Chapter Two

Oshitari's fingers were warm and smelled of cologne as they pushed Shinji's eyelid down softly. Slow swipes of an eyeliner stick lined the edges of Shinji's eye, and soft thumbs followed, smudging the makeup gently. Oshitari's breath smelled like peppermints, and Shinji could hear the candy slicking around in the man's mouth. Shinji tried his hardest to concentrate on something else, like Kamio and Gakuto's bickering, ignoring the close presence of Oshitari.

"Don't you think this is a bit excessive?" Kamio growled, twisting some gel through his bangs and glaring in annoyance at the intrusive redhead perched on his kitchen table. One hand obsessively fingered the rips in his jeans, toying with the striped stockings underneath. "We're there to perform, not to put on a fashion show. We've never had to wear makeup before."

Oshitari snorted softly, a soft release of breath right down Shinji's neck. Shinji felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Gakuto hopped off the kitchen table and strolled to lean over Oshitari's shoulder, observing his work for a moment. "I think it adds to the effect." He said perkily. "After all, Yuushi even took time off from the studio to come over here. You could at least act thankful, jerk."

Kamio made a grunting noise and returned to his hair. "Whatever." He paused, peering at Shinji. "God, we look like women." He mumbled.

"Na, Yuushi, are you almost done?" Gakuto drawled, pawing through his friend's makeup bag disinterestedly. He held up a vial of dark stuff to the light, squinting at it. He shook it. "Hey, what's this?"

Oshitari looked up from Shinji, keeping his hands on the boy's face. "Ah, Gakuto, could you pass me that?" He smushed a palm over Shinji's cheeks, spreading a light pink powder under his cheekbones. "It's lipstick. Like that kind I used to put on you." He smiled at Gakuto, gazing at him fondly from over his half-circle glasses.

Gakuto blushed and handed him the jar. He averted his eyes to Shinji, who was sitting as stiff as a board, hands folded in his lap. "That was before you graduated art school. But I think..." He stared at Shinji's clothes, which was a mainly black ensemble. "It will look good."

Kamio glanced at the clock on the wall, fingering his glossed lips distractedly. They would have to leave soon to get to the audition. It was three already and the audition was at five, in a studio across the town. He quelled the butterflies in his stomach.

They had to get this job.

(two years earlier)

Kamio stared at Shinji, watching his friend strum his fingers, pickless, across his guitar.

"Did you ever think," He began, breaking the comfortable silence they had been sitting in for nearly an hour. "That we could make a living out of this? Just you and me?"

Shinji looked up, strands of black hair that had escaped his messy bun getting into his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "I've thought about that for a long time." He continued. "We've been a duo for years now. We're good. We have talent. I don't see why we couldn't do this for good. It makes me sick to think that one day we have to stop. What a waste. I would rather do something I'd like then become a businessman or something. I don't think I could watch Kamio do something he hated, either. We should go for it. Unless you don't want to. In that case we could just play on the side like we do now. We've almost graduated. I'm sure we'll have to split apart anyway."

Kamio laughed, tossing a pillow at Shinji from his perch at the head of the mattress. "You know, someday I may get tired of hearing you talk."

Shinji regarded him seriously from behind the neck of his guitar, "Then I'd learn to be quiet. I can't afford to have you getting tired of me, after all. You might leave."

Kamio grew silent, gaze shifting to the carpet on the floor, brows furrowed and grin gone. He knew how Shinji got when he wasn't around- the incident when he admitted his crush on Tachibana An, Shinji's feeling of abandonment. He could never put his friend through that again.

Instead of replying- 'I won't leave, ever' or something equally meaningful, Kamio stretched out his legs over Shinji's calves, rested them there in a strange form of comforting contact. He took a breath and began to sing, a song they had just written, one they hadn't had a chance to play in front of an audience.

Shinji lay down, breathing and thinking. Kamio- Kamio would never leave him. He couldn't breathe without Kamio, he couldn't function. But he knew he didn't mean that to Kamio- to him he was just a best friend. To Shinji Kamio was the only one who could ever understand him.

Shinji closed his eyes and began to pick out the tune of Kamio's singing on his guitar. He never knew it was possible to be so close to someone and yet be so lonely.

(present)

"Shinji! Hey, man, wake up. We're here." Kamio shook Shinji's shoulder roughly, pushing out the door of the cab. "Come on."

Shinji blinked slowly, then realized his cheek was smashed into the soft leather of Kamio's jacket and that he was staring sleepily into the face of an irate looking cab driver. Outside the window snow was falling and he saw that they had stopped in front of a nondescript looking warehouse-type building, a huge box like shape with a few windows and large doors. Kamio was handing the driver a small fistful of bills, probably the last of their money.

They both got out of the cab and onto the snow-carpeted sidewalk, Shinji shouldering his guitar. Kamio turned nervous, kohl-rimmed eyes toward the building, then to Shinji. "Are you ready?" His throat still hurt, kind of, but not so much that he couldn't stand to talk. He hoped he could still sing. "This is it, Shinji."

Shinji kicked the snow from his tattered (yet stylish, of course) gym shoes and walked towards the door. "Of course I'm ready. I've been ready. I hope this works out. We better get this job. You better be able to sing, because I've noticed you've not been your best lately. Did I tune my guitar? It should be okay. Let's go inside, I'm cold." He had been standing with the door open for at least fifteen seconds while he rambled. Kamio smiled and walked inside. Shinji patted his guitar case and followed.

They were greeted with the sight of a very large, very open room, walled in shiny metal and lighted with very modern, tinted wall lamps. At the end of the room, across from the door, a small stage was constructed, hardly a foot off the ground. On it a figure was writhing, singing and playing a guitar furiously. A man sat in a chair before the stage and singer, but besides that, it was empty.

"They're good," Kamio whispered into Shinji's ear, lips brushing the shell lightly. Shinji nodded, watching and listening to the performance. The person- Shinji couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl- was very good, and looked very good too. Tight black pants shone in the stage light, glittered brown hair and glossy lips shone wetly even from their distance. The way the fabric moved across the chest- oh, it was a boy after all. A soft, rich voice spread across the room, amplified into the microphone. The song was good- the singer was entrancing.

The music stopped, leaving Shinji and Kamio open-mouthed. The man was very good- they were starting to have doubts if this was what they were up against.

"Su-go-i!" A small man, previously unnoticed, sprung from a chair seated before the stage. Shinji twitched in surprise as his loud voice carried over to him and shot a look at Kamio. Kamio looked as if he were about to panic. Shinji reached over and gripped his hand tightly.

"That was great! Wow!" Attention was brought back to the excited man, who was bouncing up towards the stage. Soft brown curls shone glossily as he bobbed around in amazement, eyes wide. "I've heard of you! Fuji Syuusuke, right? Hey! I'm Akutagawa Jirou, a scout for Atobe Keigo! Wow, you are good! I saw you play at a club once! AweSOME! Atobe would love to have you as an opener!" He waved his arms about a bit, laughing. The singer, now identified as said Fuji, watched in amusement, nodding towards Shinji and Kamio.

Jirou coughed and looked around. He saw Shinji and Kamio standing, huddled together, at the door, and cleared his throat. "Hi, over there! Are you next?"

Shinji nodded. Kamio began to breathe quickly, his breath rasping from between his teeth. Shinji rubbed his partner's fingers between his own. "Nothing to be nervous about, we've done this millions of times. We're just as good as that Fuji guy. It's okay. Remember that one time, when that one scout propositioned us? And we had to play in front of him? This is just like that," Shinji paused. "Except we'll hopefully get the gig this time."

Jirou turned to Fuji, who was snapping his guitar into its case. "Hey! We'll get back to you, okay? You definitely snagged one of the opening spots! One left, now! Hey, you two may get it!" He glanced at a clipboard, fingers absently pulling at his fuzzy yellow sweater. "Shinji and Kamio is it? Scheduled for five?"

Kamio stepped forward, hand out. "N-Nice to meet you."

Jirou took his hand. "You guys are up! I hope you're good." He yawned extensively, covering his mouth with a hand. "Sorry about that."

Kamio nodded, slowly. "We'll start to set up then." He beckoned to Shinji, who picked up his guitar case, and walked on stage, feet heavy. This was it. Kamio picked up the microphone and breathed deeply.

Fuji leaned against the door and folded his arms. He always liked to know what he was up against, after all. He smiled softly as he watched the excitable Jirou, Atobe's 'scout', fuss over the pair on stage, helping them set up. Not like they looked like they would pose any competition, two young, scrawny boys who hardly looked as if they could afford to feed themselves, much less perform.

Finally, they were ready. Shinji plucked a few strings on his guitar, then nodded, deeming it ready. Kamio winked at him nervously, blinking back a wince in the face of the heady stage lights. He let out a few soft warm up notes, then let his voice rise as he prepared his voice for a few songs, stretching his vocal cords. Shinji strummed along. Jirou watched them, expectantly.

"Are you ready?" He called, crossing his legs and tapping his clipboard across his knee.

Kamio turned to Shinji. Shinji tossed back his hair and flashed him a grin, rare and wide. Ready.

Kamio lifted his head and his hopes, and sang.

Pleaaaaase review or critique, it keeps me alive! Too gay? Not enough gay? Comments? Boring? Stupid? Any of the above accepted!