http://omoikkiri.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] omoikkiri.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] writetomyheart2012-09-09 04:02 pm

[Team 1] Deep Red

Err, sorry this didn't end up being miyatama or takitsuba or Yasui or Juri or any of the billion other suggestions people threw at me ahaha :x;;

~

"That needs to be in my collection," Hiromitsu says, a hint of awe making his voice hitch. He's staring at an acoustic guitar on the wall of the dusty music shop they're in, its body chipped and stained a deep red with age but polished to a glossy sheen.

"Go ahead and try it out," the owner calls across the store.

Taisuke watches Hiromitsu lift it gently from its stand and cradle it in his arms, fascinated. It's not like Hiromitsu doesn't treat his electric guitars with the appropriate amount of love and reverence, but it's the first time Taisuke has seen the man hold a guitar with so much tenderness. It's almost, he realizes with an embarrassed start, almost intimate.

The melody Hiromitsu picks out is simple and folksy, and Taisuke is surprised enough that he doesn't even realize he's staring. Hiromitsu perches on a tall stool, head bent forward over the guitar cradled in his arms. His dark hair, a shade too long and un-styled tonight, hangs over his eyes, which are half-closed, and his eyelashes leave long shadows on his cheeks. He's not singing with any real words, just random "oohs" and "ahhs" and "boop-i-dee-bops", but the melody comes across crisp and clear.

"Did you write that?" Taisuke asks.

"Just making it up as I go," Hiromitsu shrugs. "Maybe we can do a country album, huh?" He offers Taisuke a tiny grin of shared amusement, eyes sparkling through unkempt bangs, and Taisuke struggles not to react.

Then Yuta appears out of nowhere, poking at the guitar strings with a random pick he'd found on the floor while Hiromitsu keeps his left hand on the fingerboard and tries to make a melody out of the random plucking. "You're not writing your lame country songs again, are you?" accuses Yuta, wrinkling his nose down at Hiromitsu.

"Shut up," Hiromitsu aims a light kick in the direction of Yuta's shins, "Country songs are simple and pure expressions of love, okay. They're real."

"Oh lord, he's not on about his country music again, is he?" Wataru calls across to them from behind the cover of a giant Yamaha.

"I hate you all," pouts Hiromitsu. He kicks out at Yuta again, pushing him away with his foot, and turns around to play his song at the wall.

Yuta laughs and tries to drag Taisuke away to pick out a set of bongos or something, but Taisuke prefers to pull a second guitar off the wall and stay with Hiromitsu. "Hey," he says, trying to spin Hiromitsu's stool around with his foot to face him, "Hey, teach me that chord progression you did just now."

There's something so completely appealing about Hiromitsu right now, just a man with a guitar, that Taisuke wonders why Hiromitsu does all the other stuff on stage – the leather and the eyeliner and the special effects. Really, he's much better like this, raw and natural in a plain white t-shirt and denims, and if Yuta and Wataru don't know how to appreciate him this way, well, Taisuke's happy to pick up their slack.

~

[livejournal.com profile] kira_shadow is busy and skipping this turn, so you're up [livejournal.com profile] mousapelli!

[identity profile] mousapelli.livejournal.com 2012-09-09 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Really, he's much better like this, raw and natural in a plain white t-shirt and denims
yessssssssssssss oh my god a thousand times yes palgkjrjgealgjalgaj.