Dragonfriend (dragonminstrel) wrote in vanilla_harmony,

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Fly to Me (4/??)

Title: Rehearsal (part one)
Anime/Manga/Series: Original
Who: Harada Asaki (Japanese name order), Tristan Norcross
What: In which Asaki gets annoyed by the early rehearsal time in the morning, Tristan gets next to no sleep, and they fight some more.
Rating: PG-13 (language and the yaoi. ^^)

And thus more annoyances occur. The rehearsal scene is broken up into parts since LJ won't take all of it. @_@ Lemme just say that archiving this thing is a very daunting task. ^^ But I'm doing it~ Go me~


"...6:30..." Asaki groaned aloud, even though Tristan was already out the door and well beyond hearing range. Did Magira-san always have to insist on such early... no, ungodly... hours? One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to take that call at 5:30. He'd much rather wake up to an alarm than to that woman's voice, scolding and hurrying him along. To make certain that didn't happen, the somewhat defiant artist made sure all his phones were left off the hook or turned off.

"Bright and early... Right."

It was most likely the amount of frustration and annoyance he'd had to endure this day, the cause of which was quite obvious, but he was absolutely exhausted. Performing his shows on a normal basis never left him feeling this drained. And so, he wasted no time in getting ready for bed, only making it about halfway through the process before simply collapsing onto the mattress, still almost fully clothed and wearing his boots. Nevertheless, he fell instantly to sleep.

Perhaps it was being uncomfortable, sleeping the way that he was, that provoked such strange dreams. He could only recall the one that had flitted through his subconscious moments before awaking, however, he was sure that the others had involved the same person, faceless, unidentifiable, but most certainly male. Asaki was in between feeling glad and disappointed that he couldn't remember any earlier elements of his dreams... considering from which point he could remember. He was so sure that the man was still lying beside him that he absently reached out, only to find the cool sheets in place of warm skin. Within a few seconds, the alarm began it's irritating chime and he was reluctantly pulled back into reality. An unhappy moan mixed in with the noise, as he rolled onto his back and practically knocked the device off the night stand in an effort to turn it off. Somehow, it was still better than getting the call from Magira-san... a half hour later as well.

Knowing that to fall asleep again would surely mean being out until noon or so, he forced himself up. He had no intention of analyzing what he dreamt, still seeing moments of it so vividly. In the back of his mind, he already knew who it was about, as disturbed as that made him, and he refused to admit it to himself. If he was beginning to dream about just anyone in that manner, he concluded that maybe he'd better find himself a casual lover... fast.

He didn't take too long getting ready, after all this was only a rehearsal. Of course, that didn't mean he looked thrown together and sloppy either. Asaki had a way of naturally making just about anything look good, even if it would be a complete fashion disaster on anyone else. In today's case, he hardly cared that his loose shirt slightly clashed with the color of his fitted trousers. It didn't look bad and he was already on the verge of being late. Throwing on a jacket (it always felt much too cool at this time of morning), as well as strapping a guitar to his back (sometimes it became boring at these meetings, and you can never tell when inspiration might strike), he left his apartment building on foot. The distance between here and the hall wasn't much more than a few minutes walk and the early morning commute in Tokyo was far more difficult to maneuver through than the late night drivers.

Besides, the fresh air might do him some good... help to clear his mind.

Tristan was over at the rehearsal hall at six o'clock exactly. Having not been able to sleep at all the night before, the Englishman had opted for coffee and getting to work with designs and plans to "perfect" Asaki. The cost of any and all materials he might require, he would be reimbursed for, Magira-san had said. Thus, the moment stores opened early in Japan, he had been in there buying any possible shade of fabric he thought might suit Asaki. Then he went to work. Part of what he wanted to make (a long jacket that clasped together at the waist) would definitely not be completed for the next concert. Something like that would take longer than two days.

He was contracted to stay there for as long as it was felt he was necessary, after all. Underlings had been given instructions during the night to pack up things in the offices and ship them over. There was an empty studio in the company building that Tristan had been given permission to use for as long as he was there and he was going to take them up on it.

Magira-san was waiting for him at the rehearsal hall, eyes widening upon seeing the fabric Tristan had with him.


"Ohayou gozaimasu, Magira-san," Tristan replied. He had brought some of the designs with him to work on them in between attempting to perfect a few things during the concert rehearsal, plus some pieces of fabric to match it to the pattern. He wanted a color that would emphasize Asaki and his...interesting choice of hair color and style.

"Are you...really going to need all of that?" she asked as she held the door open for him.

"You never know," Tristan replied, shrugging. "I like being prepared."

"...oh..." The tone of Magira's voice indicated that she didn't really understand, but, as far as Tristan knew, she would just pass it off as an English eccentricity.

Despite throwing himself together and walking, to avoid the far more chaotic traffic in the streets than on the sidewalks, it turned out that Asaki was late after all. Not by much really. But then, fifteen minutes to him was no where near as significant to him as it was to Magira-san, not to mention the other people waiting for him.

Sauntering into the rehearsal hall rather casually, carelessly, he stepped into the room in which everyone would be expecting him, tossed the guitar case from his shoulder to lean against the closest wall, and tore the earphones from his head.


He had expected the woman's scolding, so it didn't phase him in the least when it came. He offered no excuse for neither his tardiness, regardless of how, in his opinion, minute, nor the missed wake up call. Merely standing a few inches from the door way with his shoulders squared,
arms crossed, and eyes averted, he said nothing at all and finally Magira-san simply gave up with a heavy sigh. She knew just as well as the others that, changing his wardrobe was one thing, but changing his habits was futile.

There was only one aspect of this meeting that bothered Asaki to some degree, and that was whatever Tristan may have in store. While avoiding Magira-san's glare, he had noticed the other man, the amount of fabric he had brought, and also his somewhat apparent lack of sleep. Now that she had given up, the singer was free to wander and chose to speak to the Englishman first.

"What the hell is all that?" He asked as he gestured toward the mixed materials. His tone lacked any particular harshness. It wouldn't be long before Magira-san began giving him orders and the day would officially begin, nevertheless, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to criticize
his inescapable foreigner.

"Fabric," Tristan replied. If he noticed the lack of harshness in Asaki's tone, he didn't say anything. As he reached for his cup of coffee, he added, "If I'm going to have you remotely ready for your concert, Harada-san, I'm going to need to do some work here until I get some people from my office up here to alleviate some of the work load." He sipped his coffee silently and glanced at the Japanese singer.

Taking a step back and examining him for a moment, Tristan selected a square of dark red and a square of black vinyl material and held them up next to each other while Asaki was standing there. The colors matched well, despite the blue streak in Asaki's hair.

"Yes, I think that might work..." Tristan said to himself in English, setting the fabric down so he could scribble down a few notes on a piece of paper.

Magira breezed past, deftly securing a hand around Asaki's arm. "You. We need you on the rehearsal stage now. I want you to run through a few of the songs. They were a bit choppy last night, Asaki-kun." She glanced over at Tristan. "Will you be joining us, Norcross-san?"

"Not right away, Magira-san," Tristan replied, smiling. "I have to finish up a few of these notes, but I'll be down as soon as I can."

As soon as the word left the Englishman's lips, a dark glare fixed itself upon Asaki's face, a natural reaction as that annoying spark passed between them. Oh, how just that one word made him long to snatch the coffee cup from his hand and throw it's contents on both Tristan and his damn fabric samples. The way in which his steady, light brown eyes were still visible over the rim of the cup while he sipped certainly did not help subdue that urge. His own false blue gaze never left the man, even while the other stepped back and began studying, comparing random colored materials to him by simply holding them up. One brow lifted slightly beneath dyed blue strands, but Asaki neither said a thing nor moved an inch. The cold intensity of his eyes expressed plenty.

Feeling the unexpected touch of Magira's hand on his arm was what tore his glare away, causing it to focus, albeit less harshly, on her instead. Choppy…? He wanted to growl but refrained. The performance last night had seemed good enough to him. Slipping out of the woman's hold, the Asian intentionally chose to push past Tristan, rather than take the few steps required to move around him.

"You know... I am going to want to see all these notes you've been making about me." The singer stated quietly, lingering just long enough at his side then continuing his path toward the stage.

It didn't take long before he was hopping onto the platform, smaller than the stage he had been on last night but a good size, his boots clicking on the hard surface. Luckily, the technicians had been at work longer than he had and already set up. The microphone was ready, as was the prerecorded music he would be singing to. The only real difference was the lack of flashing light and cheering crowd. With merely a gesture of his head, Asaki implied that he was prepared and the voiceless song began, a fast paced introduction of unseen electric guitars and drums escaped the surrounding speakers.

There was just enough time for him to grab the mic from the stand and get into the mood before starting with a sexy exhalation of breath. This particular song didn't require much dancing, but it was also impossible not to move to the beat with simple, fluid movements of his free arm and hips. More strands of blue fell over one eye as his head occasionally turned from side to side.

It should not be this easy to get distracted by people, Tristan decided with a bit of a sigh. It was bad enough that Asaki still seemed to annoy him purposely ("You know... I am going to want to see all these notes you've been making about me."). It wasn't as though Asaki would be able to read his notes anyway as he made all his notes in English. Unless Asaki knew English very well, he wouldn't be able to read them anyway.

He had set the fabric squares down, planning on finishing up a few more notes as to fabric colors that would work well on Asaki (he hoped). The minute Asaki opened his mouth and started singing, however, Tristan stopped writing and glanced over at the platform where Asaki was singing. The passion was there, there was no denying that. Asaki obviously loved what he did even if the endless rehearsals annoyed him.

Tristan was sure he had never met anyone quite like this before in his line of work. He just stopped and listened, watching Asaki from where he stood, making mental notes of the other man's motions. There was just something there that could be fixed, Tristan could tell. He wasn't sure what, though. He would have to be near Asaki a bit more to figure it out.

Magira clapped her hands, silencing the recording (and brought an annoyed look to Asaki's face, Tristan was pleased to note). "All right, that song's fine. One of the other songs now. One that requires a bit more dancing than that. I want to make sure the choreography is solid. Norcross-san, would you mind coming over here?"

Tristan quickly put his things into a neat pile and made his way over to the platform area. "Hai, Magira-san?"

She pulled Tristan off to the side, whispering, "Watch Asaki-kun. If anything looks sloppy, don't hesitate to stop and tell him, no matter how much it will annoy him, all right?"

Tristan smiled, ducking his head in a quick understanding bow. "Of course, Magira-san. It will be my pleasure."
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