Author's Note: Get comfy, my darlings, and pull up your beverage and mood music of choice, because we are about to get some romance up in here! No M content this chapter, but get all prepared for some of that goodness next time. I'll be easing you into it today ;) I am so excited! You're going to love it!
Halloween: Music of the Night
Mimi dragged Joe out of the living room and down a hallway, completely heedless of the heads turning as she passed. Joe grew twitchier and twitchier with each step, like a dog being led into a vet's office, but she ignored his signs of distress. She opened a few doors, not caring about party etiquette, which signaled that those rooms were meant to be off-limits to guests. Joe protested as she pulled him into a bedroom, but she brushed his complaints off and closed the door behind them. The sound of the lock sliding into place seemed almost musical.
"Joe." Mimi backed him into the door, placing her hands on the wooden surface, cutting off all possible escape routes. She wiped a palm down the side of the wall until she flipped a light switch, but didn't bother taking note of the room's features. Joe was the focus, here. His glasses slid down his nose as he tried to press himself back and away from her.
"M-Mimi," he stammered. His eyes flickered this way and that, as though in search of an exit, before finally settling on her face. "It… It's rude to enter someone's personal space without their permission. We should go back out there before the host complains. We don't want to get Tai in trouble with one of his friends."
She sighed and rolled her eyes impatiently. Joe was always so high strung about everything… Couldn't he just sit back and relax sometimes? "We're not going to do anything. We're not even going to touch anything. I just need to tell you something." With my mouth. My lips. My tongue… She couldn't hold back the sly grin that followed.
Joe nodded slightly, but he looked a bit suspicious. "Fine. What is this about, then?" He cleared his throat, and, when next he spoke, his voice was high and tight. "I, uh, seem to recall you saying something about, ah… making out."
"Mm-hmm." Mimi ran the back of her hand down his cheek, and she pulled back slightly when she felt his body temperature. His skin burning, as though with fever. She sighed, drew back, and lightly passed her palm over her forehead. Although Mimi found Joe's shyness and humility charming, she had no idea what to do with a boy who fell into a panic when she touched him. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to kiss him until sparks danced through her veins, heating and igniting every part of her, giving way to even more enticing activities. But he didn't seem ready for that sort of thing, placing her right smack in the middle of entirely uncharted territory.
His fingers closed over her wrist, pulling back her hand, exposing her face. Concern and panic were pulling his skin taut over his muscles. "What's wrong?" he demanded, and his free hand made its way around her waist, drawing her back into him. Without thinking, she nuzzled her face into his chest and glued her body to his, responding to his touch with more eagerness than she cared to admit.
And, suddenly, she was afraid and uncertain, and she hated those foreign emotions. Telling Joe what had been on her mind for a while now would put her in an unprecedented state of vulnerability, but keeping quiet just wasn't her style, and she had to get the words out before she popped. In truth, she had no idea how to start, had no plan for this conversation, so she just started talking.
"This isn't normally how I do things," she began. Joe blinked down at her, then ran his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture. He didn't say anything, but his slight nod was an indication that he wanted her to continue. "If I want to kiss a boy, I kiss him. If I want to-" Her mouth snapped shut. No, referring to her desires to rip off clothes and smush together certain body parts was a little much for this conversation. No need to explode the poor boy's head, at least not when she wanted to have an important talk. Plenty of time for that later, unless… No, she told herself violently, shaking her head. There absolutely will be time for that later. I won't let myself think otherwise.
She sighed and moved her hands back to his face, allowing her fingertips to wander over his heated flesh, letting the tactile input distract her from the troubling sense of doubt stirring up inside of her. "If I want something, I take it. It never really mattered to me what other people thought. I'm confident in who I am. I like who I am. If someone doesn't like me, then fine. I don't need them. I'm not interested in them."
"So if you want a kiss… You take a kiss," Joe translated. His chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, and his breathing became jerky and shallow. The fabric draped across her back wrinkled as his fingers tensed. "But… You haven't done that with me."
"No," Mimi said softly. She shut her eyes, unable to watch as his expression crumpled in on itself like an umbrella breaking in a storm. "In the past, people have been offended by how I act. People have called me selfish and pushy. Like I said, I never let it bother me. I'd rather be me than be liked by everyone. But…" Her hand moved to the back of her neck, and she cursed mentally, unable to cope with her nerves and anxiousness. Gawd, this sucks. I can't understand how neurotic people deal with this.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, and she found that Joe was staring down at her with an expression that a man might make as he approached the guillotine. Suddenly, Mimi realized how her speech might sound to someone who didn't know what she was trying to get at, and her arms wound around his body, pulling him in. "Joe! I'm not- Don't be upset! What I'm trying to say is, I don't want to be forceful with you. I'm worried that, if I try to kiss you the way I want to, you'll freak out, and you'll like me less. You're not someone I can risk offending. It's a totally new thing for me, trying to tone it down and keep the other person's feelings in mind. I've never been too worried about boys coming and going before, but, with you-" Her mouth snapped shut as she realized just how much she was saying here, and she broke off with an aggravated little growl. She backed away slightly, crossed her arms, and huffed, trying to backtrack, to make her speech seem less personal and pressing. "Look. I just… I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
Joe stared at her for a long moment, his expression clearing up by degrees. "You're saying that you've been uncharacteristically holding yourself back out of respect for my disposition." His eyes scanned her face, as if to search for physical evidence that he was understanding things properly. A tiny grin spread across Mimi's face. What, does he think my face is like a textbook, with words and instructions popping up when he needs them?
"I mean, basically, yeah," Mimi agreed, holding her hands out. "But, at the same time…" She took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself to say the most dangerous thing yet, the thing that might be a deal-breaker for a boy she was far too fond of for her comfort. "I can't keep doing this, Joe. This isn't who I am. I am selfish and pushy. I mean, I'm not trying to knock myself, there are lots of great things about me, too, but I do know about the bad stuff. And, you need to know about it, too. And… You need to decide if you can deal with it."
Joe's enormous hands landed on her shoulders, warming them, surrounding them. "And if there's anyone that you should be entirely comfortable being yourself around, it's me." His tone was strangely bland, as if he were stating a scientific fact. But, even so, she relaxed into his touch, grateful for his understanding.
"Yeah. So… What do you think?" She couldn't look him in the eye, and she was berating herself shrilly in her mind for her weakness.
He sighed mournfully, and, for a second, Mimi's heart seemed to plummet from her chest to her stomach, or perhaps to fall right through her entirely, she wasn't really sure which. "I think I'm going to need an inhaler. Maybe something for high blood pressure."
Mimi pulled back and tilted her head, her brow crinkling with confusion. "What? I don't get it, Joe, what are you trying to-"
He chuckled, but the sound announced tension and discomfort more than amusement. Then, his palms enclosed her shoulder blades, and he leaned down towards her, pausing just before their lips touched. He tilted his face a little, then tilted it back, and Mimi realized that he was either struggling for that last bit of courage or for a suitable angle.
"Joe…" She wasn't really aware of saying his name, or of her hands cupping his face, drawing him in the rest of the way. All she knew was that her lips were on his, lightly at first, the way they always kissed. Then she eased his mouth open with her tongue, fighting down a chuckle as he froze. She eased him into it, patiently showing him how this was done, and soon, he was following her example with surprising accuracy and heat.
Before long, she hardly knew who was following whom. And, a little later, for all intents and purposes, she knew nothing at all.
A Little Later
The bus had arrived outside of the bar, and Sora filed off of it with her friends, her eyes following the flowing motion of Matt's cape. She had spoken very little tonight. Normally, she spoke slightly less than the average person, but this level of quiet was abnormal for her. She only hoped her friends weren't assuming that she was unhappy.
That would be a far cry from the truth.
Every sip of alcohol was smoothing away the casings around her sense of decorum, like a hand pulling back a curtain. Or, more pertinently, like a lover slowly stripping away layers of clothing... Sora colored, shook her head, and bit her lip. Thoughts like those were exactly the reason why she was having trouble focusing on what was going on around her.
Matt stepped down from the bus in front of her, then turned and offered up his hand. She paused for a moment, causing Amy to step into her backside, muttering an anxious apology. The jarring motion of body against body hardly registered in her mind. Sora was far too busy admiring the visual of Matt, surrounded by darkness, reaching for her. What little light was available clung to the white parts of his costume, the half mask and the draping shirt. The mask, with its heavy brow, added a certain grimness to his expression that was not normally present.
His smile transformed into a smirk, and Sora knew he was aware of what he was doing to her. Normally that arrogance grounded her, helped her control the urges currently surfacing, but tonight... Tonight it was another temptation, another step down a road shrouded with darkness and mystery. Her hand trembled when it fell into his.
"Steady, there," he murmured as he pulled her into him. A low chuckle, breathed directly into her ear, followed. Sora was torn between wanting to scream with frustration at being teased and wanting to let this surge of raw emotion propel her further towards the point of no return. Either way, she had a choice to make: let him sweep her away, or stand firmly on her own two feet, despite the force of foreign emotions and sensations pushing in from all directions.
Sora took hold of his hand, but slipped out of his embrace. Dimly, an old adage slipped through her mind: That which does not bend must surely break.
She ignored that bit of wisdom and kept walking. Slowly, her attention turned towards the environment, to the kids pouring out of the bus and into the bar. Once again, the combination of music and shouting was overwhelming, and Sora turned automatically towards Amy, wondering if she could have those ear plugs back. Sora laughed when she saw that Amy was already trying and failing to put in a pair. Izzy sighed and made a 'come here' motion, and she bent towards him, laughing as her head bumped into his. He brushed her hair back and deftly inserted the foamy material into her outer ear canals. His fingertips brushed her cheeks as he pulled away and removed a new pair for himself from the bag.
The redhead looked up, no doubt planning to offer the bag around, and stepped towards her when their eyes met. Sora tugged on Matt's hand, bringing him to a stop, and waited for Izzy to approach. They each took their own pair, then put them in as they made their way to the open doors of the bar.
Amy brushed past her and poked her head into the bar, bending over and grabbing the door frame. "Staaaaaaaaars!" she cried, straightening and facing the group. "It's a veritable bacchanalia in there!"
Matt furrowed his brow and caught Sora's eye. Do you have any idea what she's talking about? his expression asked. Sora shook her head slightly, as she had no clue. That was often the case with Amy and her exclamations, however, so she failed to react.
Amy began to laugh, pressing her back against the outer wall of the club, squishing the wings that she had tried so hard to take care of all night. "And I'm a maenad! Pray, where is my thyrsus?"
"Is that even English?" Tai asked, cocking an eyebrow at his cousin. Again, Sora shook her head. Those were definitely words that she had never heard before.
Izzy had a hand pressed to his mouth, and Sora smiled when she realized that he was grinning. It was nice to know that he was amused. He had been tense, terse, and strained lately, and, although Sora didn't know the details, she could guess that it had to do with Amy. "It's a sampling of Greek words, I believe, Tai."
Tai rolled his eyes. "Of course it's fucking Greek." He approached his cousin, took hold of her shoulders, and spun her so that her body was against his and tucked securely under his arm. "Amy. No school shit allowed. Let's get in there and have some fun."
"Mythology is fun," she pouted, but she allowed herself to be led inside, and Sora and Matt followed.
There was a bouncer a few feet beyond the threshold, but he let them pass with hardly a glance. "Aren't they going to card us?" Sora asked as the group moved further into the bar.
"Nah." Matt shrugged and readjusted his hold on her hand. "I think they give it up as a lost cause on Halloween."
"Bowing to the inevitable, it would seem," Izzy agreed, glancing back at them over his shoulder. Sora nodded, quietly noting that the redhead was being a bit chattier than usual, then took in the interior of the club. It was dim, save for the flickering images from the TVs spread around the bar, bathing the room with ghostly, indistinct lighting. There was yet another crowd of drunken kids, but this one seemed more energetic than the one in the frat house, and more…romantically demonstrative. I guess they've had more time to get drunk. I hope they all have safe ways to get home tonight...
It was one massive, open space, and Sora wondered if tables had been removed for the night. Although the darkness made it difficult to tell, it seemed to be kind of a dive, with plain concrete floors and patchy, worn walls. Her eyes jumped to an elevated platform at the far end of the room, and she leaned into Matt automatically. "Is that a stage?" she asked, pointing over Izzy's head.
"Looks like it." Matt frowned thoughtfully and ran his fingers through his hair, which was beginning to lose some of its styling after the events of the night. "Uh, actually, I do think Tai mentioned something about karaoke? I could ask him, but- Goddamn, he's already at the bar."
"He's going to drink more?" Sora could feel her eyebrows pulling her skin upwards. She was surprised and oddly impressed by the fact that Tai was still standing, after all of the alcohol he had already swallowed.
Matt snorted, and the exiting puff of air pushed up the hair that had fallen into his face. "You would not believe how much he can down. It's ridiculous. Actually, he complains about it, since getting properly drunk can get expensive for him."
"Properly drunk?" Sora echoed, grinning up at him. "As opposed to improperly drunk?" All she could think of was Tai wearing the costume Ryo had worn at the last party, downing Scotch from a teacup and slurring as he read poetry out loud. She described the image to Matt, relishing the way his eyes warmed with amusement, moving from ice blue to ocean blue.
"What's he doing now?" The further they moved into the crowd, the less she was able to see. "And where did Mimi and Joe go?" Her head tipped this way and that, but she couldn't spot anyone but Izzy, who had somehow ended up right in front of her, cut off from Tai and Amy.
Matt moved his arm to her shoulders, steadying himself, then stood on his toes for a better look. He sighed heavily, and Sora's forehead wrinkled up with concern. "He's ordering multiple drinks, and not noticing that Amy is stealing the first one. And having a damn good time of it, too." His face lightened with a grin. "He's going to be pissed. As for Mimi and Joe..." he paused and glanced around. "Okay. Wow. They're, uh, making out over there."
Sora laughed so suddenly that spittle flew out of her mouth, and she grimaced when Izzy turned and raised an eyebrow at her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Izzy. That was fast..."
Matt shrugged and grinned. "Yeah, well, Mimi... You know how it goes with Mimi."
"True, but... I'm a little surprised that Joe is going along with it."
"Why?" Matt asked, eyes widening with genuine confusion. "Who wouldn't want-" He cut himself off abruptly, his face going slightly white. "I mean, uh- Damn it- Yeah, Joe is kind of uptight, but Mimi probably would only put up with that for so long, right?" His voice lost its normal easy, low, velvety tone.
There it is, Sora thought, nodding to herself. Matt actually didn't behave too differently than normal when he was drunk, it seemed, except that he laughed and smiled more easily and lost some of his normal smoothness and tact. She had seen it at the last party, where he showed obvious interest in watching Mimi torment Amy, and was seeing it again now.
She patted his arm reassuringly. "Matt. It's okay." As far as she was concerned, it was ridiculous to expect someone to never be attracted to another person the moment they entered a romantic relationship. What mattered was limiting that attraction to admiration and imagination… And, ideally, turning that into fuel for spicy interactions with a significant other. Stop that! Stop that! You're still in public!
Matt stared at her for a moment, his lower lip slipping down more and more each second. He moved his mouth, as if to speak, but stopped, and Sora followed his glance to Izzy, who was engaged in coaxing his earplugs further into his ear canals and staring pointedly anywhere but at them. Later, Matt mouthed, and Sora nodded. Yes, she could see this conversation becoming private (and possibly mushy). Best to save it for some other time.
Suddenly, the people nearest them started shifting, and Amy slipped her way through the gap, clutching a clear cup to her chest. She immediately latched on to Izzy, and she was breathing heavily, as though she had just finished a tennis match (despite the practice Sora had given her, Amy was showing no immediate signs of improvement in her stamina or skill at the sport).
"Something wrong, Gorgeous?" Matt asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. Amy shook her head, then wobbled slightly. Izzy took hold of her wrist and frowned up at her, eying the drink.
"Naw, n-nothing," Amy sputtered. "Just, it's too crowded! But, any dang way, lookit what I got!" She held up her prize, then tipped her head back, tilting the liquid into her mouth.
"Tai will be most pleased when he notices that you made off with one of his drinks," Izzy said, his tone entirely blank. Sora couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up her throat. She only wished she could see the moment when Tai realized that his sweet, gentle cousin had swiped alcohol from him.
"Feh!" Amy retorted, rolling her massive eyes. "I'll pay'm back tomorrow. But I don't havvuh fake ID, and he said I couldn't have more, which is so unfair!"
Izzy was watching her carefully, and, for the first time, Sora noticed the extreme intensity of his glance. "I'm quite thirsty," he said, and Amy smiled and handed the cup over wordlessly.
So trusting, Sora thought, sharing a quick grin with Matt. Amy started to speak some more, but broke off entirely and turned towards the far side of the room, and Sora followed her gaze automatically. Someone was stepping onto the stage, approaching the group of microphones standing towards its center. He bent towards one and announced that karaoke would be open for the next hour.
Amy swayed on her feet and made a mad grab for Matt, dislodging herself from Izzy in the process. "Maaaaaatt, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, let's do karaoke!" she cried. Matt grimaced and shook his head, and Sora felt herself deflate slightly. She hadn't seen Matt onstage since attending the final Teenage Wolves concert. True, karaoke was far less impressive overall than a live performance, and she had watched him play and sing both by himself and with Amy over the last few weeks, but still. Any missed chance to see him perform was a disappointment.
"Awww! But Sora would like it," Amy muttered. Her hand slid forlornly off of Matt's wrist. He stared at Amy for a moment, then turned to her.
"Would you like me to sing?" he asked hesitantly. "I feel a little awkward doing it without my bass, but... If you would like me to..." He shifted his weight from foot to foot and slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, and Sora made another note of alcohol's effects on her boyfriend. Where was the normal smirk, the careless flicking of his hair into a more advantageous position?
But, no matter. Although the words weren't delivered with the usual polish, they still had a strong impact on her. Warm pleasure slid over Sora's skin, and it felt like sinking into a bath. She didn't want to force Matt, but the thought that he would step onto a stage, even a small, unadorned one in a dive bar, just for her... Her hands rose to her face of their own accord, cupping her cheeks. The burn of flushed skin met her palms.
Matt cleared his throat a little roughly, and Amy leaned closer to her, her lower lip dropping as she went. "Stars!" she sighed, rocking her body slightly. "You are so pretty, Sora." Her tone was a mixture of pleasure and longing, and Sora watched as those enormous brown eyes flit from her own face to Izzy's. Some of the glow of pleasure and excitement slid off of Amy's face. Sora was torn between the touched gratitude of receiving a sweet compliment and anxiety. Izzy was watching the group quietly, entirely missing his cue to step in and speak.
Matt took Sora's hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a faint kiss to her knuckles. "She's right, of course," he said as he released her, and Sora stared up at him, dumbfounded by his praise, his elegance, his good looks, the restrained passion in his voice. It's too much. It's too much to be allowed. How unfair for all the other boys that this one received so much more of everything than the rest...!
Thankfully, she was spared from responding by Matt lightly taking hold of Amy's wrist and leading her towards the stage. For a moment, Izzy and Sora watched them move deeper into the crowd, and she desperately tried to recover from Matt's far too emotive words of parting.
"You do know," she said at last, edging closer to Izzy, "that you were supposed to jump in and say something nice about how Amy looks, right?" Sora was certain that Amy's words slipped out of her on their own, and, once spoken, that they made Amy compare her appearance to Sora's. Apparently Amy rated herself as being relatively deficient, and that was oddly heart breaking.
Izzy turned to her, blinked, and dropped his face into his palm. Then he pulled his hand down slowly, breathing deeply all the while. "I must have misplaced my script," he drawled. For a moment, they were both silent, and Izzy filled the gap by taking a deep draught from Amy's drink. "Her lack of confidence is both perplexing and horribly vexing."
Although Sora did agree to a certain extent- it was hard not to get a little annoyed and uncomfortable when someone put herself down like that- she also took issue with the little redhead's complaint. "Well," she said gently, dearly hoping that she wasn't about to offend him, "that's true, but... When's the last time you said something complimentary to her?"
Izzy's black eyes snapped to hers, then quickly averted. He pressed his fist to his chin and produced a far-off humming sound. "I can think of at least two separate occasions when I've directly complimented her." Sora stared at him, unsure of how to respond. He seemed to think that this was a fine number. Now that she thought of it, Amy had said more sweet things to her tonight than that. Could she really blame a girl for feeling a little deflated when the boy she liked was so sparse with his compliments?
"Out of curiosity, how many of those compliments were given in situations where not giving them would have been an obvious social faux pas?"
Izzy said nothing, but every single muscle in his face seemed to simultaneously bunch up. Obviously, Sora had made her point, and she knew better than to push anymore than she already had. Any more would be insulting.
"Let's try to get closer to the stage," Sora said. Izzy stared at her for a moment, then shook his head, mutely accepting her change of subject. As they advanced, Sora turned her attention to the stairs connecting the stage to the floor, where Matt and Amy were waiting their turn. Amy was gesticulating at Matt, and he nodded every now and then, looking more than a little put-upon by what was clearly a long string of orders. Amy leaned in near his ear, removed an earplug, and began to sing, and Matt listened intently, his expression clearing of annoyance by degrees. He interrupted her from time to time to ask questions, and Amy obliged with enthusiasm.
She may get on his nerves from time to time, Sora thought, folding her hands into the long sleeves of her kimono, but Matt certainly respects Amy as an artist. This process went on until the current karaoke performance ended. As soon as the singer left the stage, Amy bounced onto it and moved towards the microphone. Even from this distance, Sora could see Matt's eyes widening. He made a grab for Amy's arm, but missed. Sora had no idea what he was so worried about, and she glanced down at Izzy. He was frowning thoughtfully, so apparently he noticed Matt's panic, as well.
"Helloooo!" Amy chirped into the microphone. She took hold of it and placed some of her weight on the stand, twirling a hip outward. "In honor of Halloween, we're going to sing some Phantom for all you loooovely people!"
Sora started laughing before she could even pinpoint what was so funny here. Amy's delivery was painfully cheesy and overly enthusiastic. She glanced down and saw that Izzy's face was attached to his palm with a closeness that suggested magnetic attraction.
Amy began to turn away from the microphone, but twirled back towards it, as if with a sudden thought. "Oh, right! I forgot. Just so everyone knows..." At this point, Matt had made his way over to her, and was reaching for her microphone, his hand inching towards the top of it, where the on/off switch probably rested. "This is Matt, formerly lead singer and bassist for The Teenage Wolves!" She gestured blindly towards the side of the stage where she had entered, smacking Matt in the face in the process. He grimaced and slumped over for a moment, then straightened in time to receive the crowd's excited roar of approval. It was a deafening shriek of ecstatic female voices, and, more for old time's sake than anything else, Sora added her cry to the din, then laughed at Izzy's mixed look of surprise and disapproval. Poor Matt. So much for keeping a low profile, I suppose, Sora thought with a grin.
Then, heavy, bone-shaking peals of organ music flooded the club, and Sora grinned when she realized that Amy had completely neglected to introduce herself. Matt slipped a microphone out of one of the stands, then handed it off to Amy, who was tugging ineffectively at the one in front of her. He took another one for himself, then offered Amy his arm. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then took hold of his elbow, allowing him to lead her back a few steps. By the time she opened her eyes again, they were half-lidded, as if she were in something of a daze. Her golden eyelids rose and lowered a few times in a sleepy, disoriented sort of way.
By degrees, her posture changed, until she was standing straight, tall, and centered, with her shoulders low and back. Her gaze finally focused on Matt's face, and she stepped closer to him, until they were toe-to-toe.
"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came
That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name.
And do I dream again? For now I find
The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind."
Sora stepped back, knocking into the person behind her. She turned automatically towards Izzy, her eyes wide. "Did you have any idea she was this good?!" Sora squeaked. Yes, technically Sora had seen Amy perform in the past, but her vocal part hadn't been very challenging in the song. And she was careful not to call too much attention to herself, since, as Amy had explained to her a while back, she was in no way the main focus of the band.
But now...! The music of Phantom was demanding, emotional, and some of the songs featured an unusual, enticing combination of dark elements, romance, and the otherworldly. And Amy was portraying that perfectly, now leaning into Matt with heat and intense focus in her eyes, now stepping back and looking a little lost, as if she were unsure that this encounter was real, now reaching hesitantly back towards him, her face torn between fear and longing, like Eve reaching for a fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. And her voice was so sweet and lilting, but tinged with something low and caliginous, a heady, frightened undertone that stirred a primal sort of fear and attraction in the listener.
"I had an inkling," Izzy muttered, not looking away from the stage, "but to see it in person like this..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
Shaking her head unsteadily, Sora turned her attention to her boyfriend. He had spent most of Amy's verse studying her, his blue eyes unmoving and focused. But, as the last notes of accompaniment before his answering verse ended, he took in a deep breath and drew his body up, playing off of Amy's example. He glanced at one of the nearby screens- apparently he wasn't as familiar with the song as Amy- then leaned in, using his few extra inches of height to create a sense of surrounding and looming over her.
"Sing once again with me our strange duet.
My power over you grows stronger yet!
And though you turn from me to glance behind,
The Phantom of the Opera is there...inside your mind."
Matt was a very, very good singer, if Sora's taste in music was anything to go by, but he wasn't extraordinary. And this genre was much more challenging than the vocal parts for the music he wrote. But what he lacked in vocal oomph, he more than compensated for with pure, concentrated sexiness. His tone was low, rich, seductive, the perfect counterpoint to Amy's ethereal sweetness and purity. And, even from her spot a few people in from the stage, Sora's legs were growing weak from the look in his eyes. I've captured you, and I know it, they seemed to say. You're mine, and, believe me, you'll enjoy every moment of being in my power. Sora was suddenly grateful for the general din in the bar, because it obscured the tiny mewl that slipped out from between her lips.
The song continued in that fashion, with an intense connection building, both vocally and physically, between Matt and Amy. But, somehow, jealousy didn't occur to Sora; when Matt touched her, what would begin as slight, innocuous contact would soon morph into a restrained sort of need. As Sora reciprocated, that restraint would slowly fade, although they hadn't progressed past deep, protracted kisses that left her light-headed and longing for more. Sora wanted to go further- much further, to be completely honest- but her ingrained sense of propriety, her awareness of the delicateness of her particular situation, and her lack of romantic experience all held her back from mentioning it.
At any rate, when Matt interacted with Amy, it was obvious that he was completely comfortable with her, and that they shared rapport and trust, but the cues signaling desire and passion that Sora received from him were entirely absent. And so, she enjoyed the performance with no bad feelings, unless you counted the fact that she was beginning to feel a strange sort of heated itch in a place where heated itches were distinctly bothersome.
The song ended with a spine-chilling shriek from Amy that echoed around the open room a few seconds after the accompaniment track ended. Instinctively, Sora looked over at Izzy, and they shared a look of mixed shock, awe, and glumness. What are we supposed to do with partners who are so amazing onstage? For the first time, Sora was aware of the inherent oddness of watching someone she loved perform. She knew it was Matt, knew what he was like, but his stage presence was a slightly different personality, and it was a little like observing a stranger. It was compelling, but also just a touch alarming.
Her train of thought derailed itself as Izzy gently prodded her arm. "Hm?" she asked, glancing over at him. He nodded towards the stage, where Amy was enthusiastically gesturing towards her, ignoring the cheering and roars of approval from the crowd. Sora had no idea what her roommate wanted, but she made her way forward anyway, especially as Matt began to approach the edge of the stage. When she was standing at the platform, both Amy and Matt reached for her, taking hold of her hands. Together, they began to haul her up, and Sora hastened to help, lifting herself by raising a foot onto the stage.
Once she was standing beside them, Amy grabbed her hand, then gave her a high five. "Tag!" she cried. Then she plopped herself down on the edge of the platform and eased herself onto the floor, disappearing into the crowd.
Sora turned to her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled apologetically and took hold of her hand, leaning close to her ear. "Sorry," he said, sounding slightly put-upon. "Amy insisted that I serenade you. I can ask them to skip the next song, if you'd like."
But the background music was already starting, and Sora immediately identified it as the quiet, dark opening to The Music of the Night. Instantly, Sora knew that she had been betrayed. Somehow, Amy must have noticed her playing this song on repeat with her mp3 player while she made Matt's costume. Her throat went entirely dry as she shook her head, and she was intensely grateful that nothing would be required of her. She wasn't sure she could speak, let alone sing.
Matt began to sing, and it was awkward at first, just standing there as he performed. But then he touched her, gently cradling her face with his hands, and she felt them trembling. Somewhat alarmed, Sora looked him in the eye, which she had been too embarrassed to do before. He was smiling a little ruefully, and somehow, Sora felt the vulnerability and need that were causing the slight tremors in his voice at the end of each phrase. And, suddenly, it was all too much- the alcohol, the crowd, the music, the suggestive, seductive tone of Matt's voice, the overwhelming force of his good looks, his costume, this song that she loved, that commanded her attention even in the most innocuous settings… Her body went limp, and Matt's hands closed around her elbows, taking on her weight, holding her steady against his front.
He smirked, no doubt understanding just why she was suddenly losing command of her muscles, damn him. His eyes brightened with a playful sparkle, and his performance grew more animated, more confident. And, all the while, his touch became increasingly possessive and electrifying. By the end of the song, it was all Sora could do to stay standing, even with Matt's help. Then, finally, he squished her against him and whispered the final phrase of the song: "Help me make the music of the night."
The crowd began to shriek and cheer, but Sora was only distantly aware of the noise, even as she wryly told herself that every young woman here would be seeking out her lover tonight, if they had one, or perhaps claiming one just for the occasion. Her attention was mostly on Matt, and she batted away his microphone and pulled gently on his neck, then rested her forehead against his.
"Take me home," she whispered. There was a slight pause, and Sora felt more than heard Matt's sharp intake of breath.
His hands closed tightly around hers. "Alright."
Elsewhere
Izzy stared at the stage for a moment, even after the last notes of the song faded away. Then he pried his eyes off of Sora and Matt, who were finally ending their protracted embrace, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Even I feel a little stimulated, after witnessing that.
But the swooning, shrieking women around him were wearing on his nerves, so he took hold of Amy's arm and led her away from the platform. She followed obediently, never questioning him, smiling whenever he happened to catch her eye. Izzy downed the rest of the drink she had stolen from Tai, mostly so that she couldn't ask for it, then dropped the empty container.
The crowd was absolutely unbelievable. It made the frat house look like a ghost town in comparison. There was an endless tide of people mashed together, pushing into each other, trying to create room to dance in. Their collective sweat and body heat seemed to cling to the atmosphere, creating a disgusting, hot cloud that sparkled when the strobe lights touched it. Izzy stared up at it, his face set in an awkward mixture of awe and horror. How had he failed to notice that earlier?
He turned to Amy, intending to comment on the crowd, and pulled back when he saw her face. Her complexion had gone from its normal, moonlight luster to a sickly, milky white, and her eyes were watering. She was pulling her body in towards her core, giving her a faint resemblance to an uncomfortable turtle. At first, Izzy didn't understand the sudden resurfacing of her crowd anxiety, but then he noticed what was happening behind her. A shirtless, toned young man had backed into her, and was grinding his rear into her hip, so focused on the panting girl on his other side that he didn't seem to notice Amy. She made a high-pitched whimpering sound, but Izzy could hardly hear it over Thriller's pounding bass line.
Izzy grabbed her arm and lead her to the wall, doing his best to get in between her and all of the flailing limbs that seemed to reach for them as they moved. By the time they found the edge of the room, he was fairly sure that he had amassed an impressive collection of bruises inflicted by jutting elbows. But he made no comment on the pain of his battered body as he eased Amy to the wall. He rested his forearms against the wall on either side of her upper half and spread his legs around her lower half, effectively caging her off from the other people in the room.
He was too tired to raise his voice above the deafening, echoing racket of music and chatter, so he moved his lips close to her ear and whispered, "Is this helpful, or am I making you more uncomfortable?"
She produced a strained sigh and rested the side of her head against his. Her hands moved to his narrow hips and pulled him even closer to her, so that their bodies were flush. Izzy swallowed hard, trying his best to ignore his face's sudden proximity to her chest, which was tantalizingly showcased by the low cut of her dress and the shining specks of glitter spread over her skin. Something was strange here, and he was aware of that, but his inebriated mind couldn't pinpoint the problem. Especially not when there were sparkly breasts to admire. After all, he liked those as much as the next man, or, at least, he liked these.
"It helps," she said softly. Her lips brushed his ear as she spoke, and his body shivered automatically. "It really helps. Thank you much."
"I'm glad to be of service," he said faintly, now staring openly at her chest. Her eyes were shut, and her hands were inching under his shirt, tugging him even closer to her, so he was reasonably assured that she didn't notice his fixation. They stood like that for a little while, and, if he weren't so drunk, he would have scolded himself for the way his mouth watered as he continued to admire the pale, tantalizing swells of her breasts. But, he was drunk. God, was he drunk.
"You know," she said at length, drawing her fingers dreamily up and down his sides, tracing the outline of his ribs, "if I weren't so craaaaaazy drunk… I think I would totally kiss you."
Shock broke through the alcohol-induced haze of contentment around his mind, and the problem with this situation was suddenly painfully obvious. Amy was afraid of men, or afraid of intimacy, or afraid of people who were physically more powerful than her, or…something. He hadn't pinpointed the exact source of her discomfort when it came to the opposite sex. What mattered here was that this was the complete opposite of her typical behavior. But she was absolutely blitzed, and there was a definite air of sensuous abandonment in the club. Alcohol and arousal could be a potent combination.
And that was true for the both of them. He was also drunk, and, although the show of bare flesh, kissing, and dancing so explicit that only scant clothing prevented it from being intercourse appalled him, it did kick up his pulse and heat his blood.
Those voices that normally reminded him that he was stoic, that he was disinterested in anything sexual, that he wasn't capable of romantic feelings were screaming within him. He couldn't hear them in the slightest. The siren calls of inhibition and desire were much more potent. He wanted that kiss, craved it, could practically feel its phantom touch on his flesh, sending tremors of anticipation over his small frame. He licked his lips. It felt disturbingly good.
Izzy pulled back from her enough to have a look at her face, but her eyes were still closed. She was smiling dreamily, looking much more at peace than she should have, and he was suddenly deeply aware of her trust in him. He shut his eyes and fought to limit his cursing to his mind. He couldn't take the kiss from her, not when he could tell that she was counting on him for protection, not when her body was relaxing by degrees against his.
But he wasn't above trying to convince her to agree to it. He began to speak, but his voice was mysteriously beyond his reach, so he cleared his throat noisily and tried again. "I was under the impression that those kinds of uncharacteristic acts were more likely under the influence of alcohol, rather than less likely."
A slight frown marred her serene expression. "Eh? Could you speak less brainy? I'm kinda loopy."
"That's more or less my point." So yield to your inebriation. Do something stupid for once, lower your guard, trust me completely. Kiss me. If he said those words, would she listen, or would she fear him?
"Ooooooh," she sang, opening her eyes at last. "I get it. But, you know, if I kissed you, tomorrow I would be all like, was that coz I was drunk? And then it would be all weeeeeird between us, and I don't want that, coz, you know… I like you."
"You like me," he repeated tonelessly, too overwhelmed to process the emotional content. Then, something fierce and hot and needing swept over him, and, just like that, his body went from flushed to burning. He wanted to touch her face, but he was reluctant to move his arms, to give anyone a window through which to accidentally strike her. He licked his lips again, and a slight panting sound slipped out from between them, but he was too overwhelmed to notice it. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
She blinked and patted his sides absently. "What does anyone mean by it?" she said airily, rolling her eyes. The ocular movement seemed to make her dizzy, and, despite being pressed up against a surface, her body buckled. Izzy steadied her body with his, sighing all the while at her ability to dance around a question, even when smashed. "I like you. I want you around. I would be sad-face if things went weird between us, like that one time." Her eyelids moved up and down slowly, and Izzy watched them, entirely captivated by the reflection of strobe lights off of her shimmering, golden eyeshadow.
"Oh, hey!" she said suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Do you like me back?" Her voice was colored with earnest curiosity.
His brain immediately offered up his typical answer: say she's charming. But, somewhere between coming up with the response and speaking, another voice within him offered a different suggestion. It was more honest, and therefore much, much more dangerous, but the words slipped out before he could alter them into something safer. "Yes. I do. Furthermore, if you kissed me, I promise I wouldn't find it strange or unpalatable, neither now nor in the future. Should you reconsider."
Amy gave him a strange look, pressing her brow down and lowering her bottom lip. "Waaaaait," she said suspiciously, slurring slightly over the word. "You don't want kisses. Not from me. Maybe not from anyone. I mean, Mimi keeps saying that you're wired all normal and stuff, and that you stare at me a lot, and I guess you do seem to like this dress, but at the same time you also seem all 'I'mma man of science, and I don't need ladies!,' like Tesla. Who was aweeeesome, bee-tee-dubs."
He closed his eyes and groaned. "I don't want a kiss from anyone, but I do want one from you." His instincts were going ballistic, complaining so loudly about his abandonment of his typical detachment that he could actually hear them over his buzz. It's not true! they shouted. Yes, it could be said that you harbor a germ of mild affection for her, but it's nothing you can't ignore.
Izzy was sure he could see a rush of color beneath the permanent blush Mimi had spread across her cheeks with makeup, but, then, the lighting was awfully poor. But it was clear that her eyes were widening dramatically. "Me?" she managed, and her hands tightened around his ribcage. "But… That's… No. You're just reeeeeeeally smashed, Iz, you dunno what you're saying anymore'n I do."
Izzy sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. "That… That rather hurts, but I can see where you'd say it. I've taken pains to assure myself that I am incapable of romantic attachment. But I'm done, Amy. I can't handle this any longer. I'm beginning to suspect that I will never have a clear mind again until I address how I feel about you. And, in light of recent events, I'm no longer so afraid of being romantically connected, at least, not to you. And, so…"
"You're drunk," Amy repeated loudly, cutting him off. "And, any dang way, even if you did want to kiss me, I wouldn't want our first kiss to be dead drunk in a smelly grossface bar. Our friends would be like, what was your first kiss like? And I'd have to say, well, we macked on each other against the wall of a nasty bar on Halloween. I was dressed like a trashy ladybug. His lips were blood red from my trashy lipstick for the rest of the night."
Izzy sighed, stung by her rejection of his confession. But, he could sense that now really wasn't the time, so he tried to let it go, tried to find an innocuous thought to distract himself from the sinking disappointment in his gut. "You don't look trashy, Amy. Not at all. Especially by comparison. The girl to my left is half naked."
She arched an eyebrow at him and grinned. "Then maaaaaaaaybe you should stare at her, instead of my boobs."
He glanced over at the object of their gossip. She was dressed, it seemed, as 'girl-in-underwear-wearing-cat-eared-headband.' She was engaged in rubbing her painted whiskers on the face of the cowboy she was making out with. He shrugged dismissively. "I prefer looking at you. Strongly." It didn't occur to him to deny that he had, in fact, been enjoying the sight of her cleavage, and that was a true testament to the incredible, deadly power of alcohol.
Amy looked over at her, too, then tipped her head. "For reals? Hmm! She's cute, too! Buuuut, I guess my boobs are pretty epic. Legendary, even. Two separate legends." Izzy snorted, then threw his head back, unable to suppress his loud laughter. When he recovered, Amy was smiling hugely, clearly pleased by his amusement.
"You laugh so cute," she sighed. "I love it. And, y'know, there's something sooooo sexy about a boy holding you against a wall. I always wanted to be kissed like that when I was younger." She glanced off into the air, and Izzy realized suddenly that, despite all of the people around them, despite the fact that he was still being jostled almost nonstop, it very much felt like they were in their own little universe, or perhaps some isolated pocket of this one. One of her delicate, arched brows rose saucily. "Pressed between two hard surfaces, with the heat of his body flowing into mine…"
Izzy grinned when he realized that she was apparently trying to write her own romance novel on the fly. "Two hard surfaces? I only see one." He tapped the wall with one of his fists, doing it loudly enough for her to hear.
She pressed her palms against her lips and giggled, long and loud. Izzy watched her with growing confusion, half holding her up with his shoulders as she doubled over, trembling dangerously. "Then you're noooot very observant, mister. Look down," she managed at last. Frowning, he obeyed, then colored severely when the movement called his attention to his hips.
"A-A-Amy," he stammered. His mind cast about for some excuse for his arousal, which was pressed humiliatingly against her inner thighs.
She waved a hand dismissively. "Bioooooologist," she said, pointing to her chest. "S'okay. It's natural. We're inna room fulla girls in slutty costumes. I totally have a boner too. You just can't see it."
He snorted, then buried his face in her shoulder. Frankly, he needed the support. He was laughing too hard to stand on his own. Amy began to laugh, too, and soon they were clinging to each other, unable to do anything else and remain upright. And, just like that, his embarrassment was gone. It seemed entirely reasonable to be turned on, and to let her know about it.
When he recovered, he wiped the moisture from his eyes, settled her back against the wall, and smiled. "I would have thought that you'd be adverse to that."
"To whaaaaaat?" Amy's words came out in a playful, sing-song tone.
He caught her eyes with his and pinned her again, boxing her in with his body. "To being kissed like this. You always seem to fear physical closeness." He watched her carefully for any signs of nerves, of fear, or, ideally, of desire. What he saw was wistfulness, shown in the dreamy aversion of her eyes and the slow, winding sigh that slipped out of her lips.
She crossed her arms around his shoulders. "It wasn't always scary. But I thiiiiiiiink… I think this is the first time I've wanted it for reals. You know, like, not just fantasizing, or whatever."
"I see…" he said slowly, and he couldn't stop himself from pressing himself against her more firmly. Her body seemed to give against his, indenting slightly. It made sense; she was soft and slightly squishy, and he had no fat on his body to provide give. "Is it me, specifically, that you want to kiss, or are you responding to the many arousing stimuli we've encountered tonight?"
She snorted and pressed her open palm against his forehead, pushing his face back a few inches. Then, contrarily, she twined her fingers through his hair and pulled him back in, so that his face rested against her neck. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, and he inhaled greedily, glad to have something pleasant to smell after being forced to endure eau de sweat and booze for the last few hours.
"Stupidface," she muttered. "Your face, it is stupid. Whattaya think?! Stars!" She nuzzled the side of his head with her cheek, and he could feel how overheated she was. "I like you. Everyone else can, can…" A frustrated humming sound filled his ear, and he could tell that she was too far gone to think of an appropriate idiom. "Screw those guys," she finished, and the prim, proper tone she used had him laughing again.
"Well," he said fondly, planting a quick kiss on her neck, "if you want to be kissed like this, or any other way, I'd be happy to oblige. Now or later."
Suddenly, her body stiffened, and Izzy cringed, wondering if he had gone too far, if he had crossed the line from speaking in hypotheticals to making allusions to their normal, non-Halloween existence. "Be careful what you say," she whispered, sounding far less drunk than she had a moment ago. "I'm not drunk enough to go forgettin' stuff."
Izzy sighed and eased his body away from hers, so that they were no longer touching. "More's the pity, then, as I'm too drunk to mind my tongue."
"Oooooh," she sighed wistfully. "If I weren't slagged, I could do so much with that."
"I don't doubt it. You have a way with words, and I find it most attractive." She smiled, then leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.
"We… We're gonna hafta talk about this tomorrow, huh."
"I should think so."
"Suddenly, I… I don't much feel like being here. And I really hafta pee."
Izzy nodded absently and took a look around the room. Now that it was clear that nothing would be happening between them tonight, the excitement and arousal fled from his body. All that he saw around him now was drunk people dry humping like imbeciles, and it was disgusting. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and brought up the shuttle schedule. "Then you're in luck. The next shuttle should be here in ten minutes. Let's tell the others that we're leaving. I'll go back with you."
Her arms slid around his waist, and she looked down at him shyly. "Thanks. Uh, can I… Can I hold your arm?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course. But when, specifically?"
"On the bus. Walking to our dorm. Walking to my room." Her voice lowered in volume. "The whole time. Please?"
His eyes shut of their own accord, and he breathed in deeply, needing a moment for the strange, swelling feeling in his chest to die down. "Your wish is my command. Just allow me to escort you safely out of the club first."
She nodded, then frowned. "Y'know, Tai is gonna go all snarly when you tell him you're taking me back."
"Fuck him," Izzy said mildly, shrugging, and Amy squealed with shocked laughter. Now that she was swaying with amusement, he could easily grab her and pull her through the crowd without resistance, and that was what he did.
Author's Note: Was it too much? It might have been too much XD
You can probably tell that I'm kind of more into Sorato than Jyoumi, but I was actually really happy with the content of their discussion. I really like the thought that Mimi is actually thinking about her actions and trying to be less… willful out of respect for Joe. Not that I think she should alter her personality, and I hope I made it clear that she doesn't think she should either, in the long run. What I glossed over in intrinsic heat, I feel I compensated for in characterization. Or maybe I'm talking out of my ass, lol!
Oh, also, I think I might be over-impressed with Matt in general... I like him much better when I write him than I ever did when watching the show, it's kind of strange.
So next chapter is the last bit of the Halloween arc, Halloween: Aftermath. It contains mature Sorato content, a very frustrated Tai, lots of hangovers, and the continuation of the discussion Amy and Izzy started today. Please look forward to it, and thanks for reading :)
