[116] "4/4 Time"
Aug. 16th, 2007 12:19 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kh_drabbleChallenge: [116] Rock Star
Title: 4/4 Time
Word Count: 595
Notes: Um. Yes. Roxas on a mission. Some Axel/Roxas.
The room is thick with smoke and bodies and noise. It's not unfamiliar so the boy doesn't know why he feels uncomfortable, but he does. It's a discomfort that worms underneath his long coat and itches.
He's used to smoke as a follow-through from a pair of spinning chakrams. And he's used to bodies, tight and thickly pressed together. And though he's more familiar with them sprawled and piled and heartless, this moving crowd is the same in principle. His ears are immune to screaming by now, but perhaps that's where the discomfort truly lies. He's never heard yelling so... rhythmic.
Roxas narrows his shoulders and pushes his way through the small club, inching through a dancing crowd to the front of the room where a man shouts one last lyric and angrily plays a final note on his guitar.
Roxas waits, impatiently, for him to step down and let the next singer take his place on stage. He does saunter off eventually (after much hand waving and nodding) and sits on the few steps leading down, cigarette already in mouth.
"Allow me," a girl says, running over with a lighter. (And Roxas is not thinking about how he knows someone who could create a spark with the snap of his fingers...) She's joined by a gaggle of friends that push and shove Roxas to get closer.
"I loooove your voice! It slides across my skin in perfect 4/4 time," one girl says with such a smirk and sly look that Roxas can almost picture her practicing her expression and words in front of a mirror.
"That's new," the man smirks at her, eyes roaming, and Roxas almost rolls his own. He must have at least made a noise because the singer turns to Roxas, eyebrow raised and asks "You want an autograph?" The question is accompanied by an exhale of smoke that Roxas has to wave from his face before speaking.
"It seems you're quite popular," Roxas begins instead of properly answering. "Everyone here is trying to give you their heart..." Roxas glances at the surrounding girls, and the man grins.
"Ya gotta figure being famous has some perks."
"Yes, well, we mostly figure it means your heart is especially strong to be attracting all these other ones." Roxas flicks his wrists, almost smiling as the girls squeak and jump away from the two blades that appear in his hands.
"Whoa, kid-" the musician stammers before Roxas lunges, arms spread and keyblades hitting deep. The man blinks heavily before falling face forward. The girls are screaming now, and Roxas squints through the flash of light, stepping around the small heartless that scurries from the body. There is no nobody.
"Huh. Guess we figured wrong," Roxas says with a shrug. The crowd parts for him much more easily on the way out than they did in, and Roxas is glad for the open air and the room to make a doorway home.
Stepping back into his own world, Roxas is only half-surprised to find Axel leaning against a wall, waiting.
"How'd music-boy go?"
Roxas scowls as answer.
"Ah," Axel comments, then frowns suddenly. "You smell like smoke. Someone else's smoke. That's, like, coming home with lipstick on your collar or something."
"What?" Roxas asks, glancing down at his jacket, and Axel shakes his head, laughing with a short bark. Roxas looks up, realises what Axel said, and gestures very rudely with his fingers.
Axel laughs again, and, frowning, Roxas desperately tries not to think how that laugh slides across his skin in perfect 4/4 time.
Title: 4/4 Time
Word Count: 595
Notes: Um. Yes. Roxas on a mission. Some Axel/Roxas.
The room is thick with smoke and bodies and noise. It's not unfamiliar so the boy doesn't know why he feels uncomfortable, but he does. It's a discomfort that worms underneath his long coat and itches.
He's used to smoke as a follow-through from a pair of spinning chakrams. And he's used to bodies, tight and thickly pressed together. And though he's more familiar with them sprawled and piled and heartless, this moving crowd is the same in principle. His ears are immune to screaming by now, but perhaps that's where the discomfort truly lies. He's never heard yelling so... rhythmic.
Roxas narrows his shoulders and pushes his way through the small club, inching through a dancing crowd to the front of the room where a man shouts one last lyric and angrily plays a final note on his guitar.
Roxas waits, impatiently, for him to step down and let the next singer take his place on stage. He does saunter off eventually (after much hand waving and nodding) and sits on the few steps leading down, cigarette already in mouth.
"Allow me," a girl says, running over with a lighter. (And Roxas is not thinking about how he knows someone who could create a spark with the snap of his fingers...) She's joined by a gaggle of friends that push and shove Roxas to get closer.
"I loooove your voice! It slides across my skin in perfect 4/4 time," one girl says with such a smirk and sly look that Roxas can almost picture her practicing her expression and words in front of a mirror.
"That's new," the man smirks at her, eyes roaming, and Roxas almost rolls his own. He must have at least made a noise because the singer turns to Roxas, eyebrow raised and asks "You want an autograph?" The question is accompanied by an exhale of smoke that Roxas has to wave from his face before speaking.
"It seems you're quite popular," Roxas begins instead of properly answering. "Everyone here is trying to give you their heart..." Roxas glances at the surrounding girls, and the man grins.
"Ya gotta figure being famous has some perks."
"Yes, well, we mostly figure it means your heart is especially strong to be attracting all these other ones." Roxas flicks his wrists, almost smiling as the girls squeak and jump away from the two blades that appear in his hands.
"Whoa, kid-" the musician stammers before Roxas lunges, arms spread and keyblades hitting deep. The man blinks heavily before falling face forward. The girls are screaming now, and Roxas squints through the flash of light, stepping around the small heartless that scurries from the body. There is no nobody.
"Huh. Guess we figured wrong," Roxas says with a shrug. The crowd parts for him much more easily on the way out than they did in, and Roxas is glad for the open air and the room to make a doorway home.
Stepping back into his own world, Roxas is only half-surprised to find Axel leaning against a wall, waiting.
"How'd music-boy go?"
Roxas scowls as answer.
"Ah," Axel comments, then frowns suddenly. "You smell like smoke. Someone else's smoke. That's, like, coming home with lipstick on your collar or something."
"What?" Roxas asks, glancing down at his jacket, and Axel shakes his head, laughing with a short bark. Roxas looks up, realises what Axel said, and gestures very rudely with his fingers.
Axel laughs again, and, frowning, Roxas desperately tries not to think how that laugh slides across his skin in perfect 4/4 time.
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