O P E N mic N I G H T (OPEN TO ANYONE)

by **Akihito** Sat 30 Aug 2008, 7:07 pm

The air was thick with the smell of clove; lines of smoke coming up from slender finger tips. Patrons wrapping their lips around the butt ends of their nicotine free sticks. It was all right to smoke in the place as long as you weren't bringing the real thing. Funny how that worked. It was all about the cool image and much less about blackening the lungs. Admission was for sixteen and up so they had to keep that rule in place. You were allowed to drink the good stuff as long as you showed the proper idea. If you were the wrong age you got a stamp on your hand of a little octopus that showed up under the black light kept at the bar.

Nights like this, where the rain was aiming to make a new river, the crowd would be mixed. Just someone trying to get out of the rain and running into a place that still had its doors open. There were the regulars who came just about every night to drown away their sorrows in music and cheap drinks. Then there were those who came to show what they had to offer to the world. The people who looked at that little stool in the middle of the small stage and saw it as heaven calling to them. They would take the seat and play as if their hearts were bleeding the notes one by one.

Sometimes you got someone who could move you sometimes you got someone who moved your bowels. It was all a toss up. Each night though there was one person who stood out amongst the rest. Someone that seemed familiar but of course no one really knew personally. Tonight that person was Akihito Long. He came often to sit and watch the others play. Enjoying the excitement that built up for the bands from the first note to the last. Loving how the soloists would get so into his tune that he wouldn't even notice if everyone walked out. It was such beautiful art and tonight he would be part of it.

As the announcer moved onto the stage in his little black shorts and far too frilly top he grinned. He reminded him a lot of an old friend. So petite and cute he could just take him home and hold him till his black make-up ran right off his face. He shook his head leaving his soft blond locks to dance in front of crystalline blue eyes. Slowly he stood from his post nearby the stage. His Doc Martens making the floor boards creak. The chains around his trim waist and long legs making their own orchestra as he walked like he had not a care in the world.

He gave the crowd a bow and bid them a sweet hello. Soon his rear parked itself in that stool of dreams. His own dreams flowing to the forefront of his mind. How beautiful it had been the first time he got on a stage. He played till his fingers ached and loved every minute of it. Reveled in the reaction he got from the faces that had been so blank before the music filled the air. Those were the old days; the days where he still had friends that he held close enough to tell his deepest secrets to. Now he was alone and it was just him and his beloved instruments.

He'd be playing an acoustic tonight; live and unplugged he enjoyed that best. The music would be raw this way; it might even open old wounds but he was ready for it. He wanted to bring the crowd to tears.The best way to do that was to bring out his own river of pain. He took a deep breath and moved his pick along the strings. The tune at first seemed a bit happy but slowly the tempo changed, fading into the queue for him to sing. He leaned forward, so close his lip rings almost hit the microphone, and belted out the words like they were his life line. His left foot moving along to the beat while the other was against one of the bars of the stool.

People turned to look, a little surprised that a voice like that could come from someone so young. It was raspy yet full as if he put effort into every little sound that passed his lips. His head bobbed along with the beat. His eyes sliding shut so that he wasn't even looking at the crowd. He didn't need to see them to know how they were reacting. He could feel their stares; the energy that came with bringing a group to life. He hadn't realized how much he missed this till now, but that was then and this was now. If only he had known back then what he knew now maybe he wouldn't have been dumb enough to sign a record deal when he was only seventeen.

He felt the tears slid down his eyes and was thankful for the lace band he wore around his nose that soaked them up. He didn't need people to know that this song he sang about a man wronged by a goddess was a true telling of his own failed relationship. He stood up kicking back the stool as the song got to a harder point. It had surprised many when he had been content to sit for so long. The loud bang of the stool against the hard wood. It was clear he was more accustomed to slapping his guitar and moving about as he played. He leaned down into the microphone.

"So you gonna steal my soul...." His eyes opened and he swore he saw her face in the crowd. The song had come to its end and so had the spell it put him under. He was looking around at shocked faces. A slow impish grin working itself onto his face. He rubbed the back of his head making his hair stand on end. The crowd started to applaud and he actually blushed looking a bit awkward.

"Ah... thank you." He bowed and moved off the stage to give the next act their turn. He got a few pats on the back as he headed towards the back stage area to put away his guitar. Sammy he called her, after the girl he loved. He leaned against the wall for a moment but hearing his name called he moved off of it. He was standing towards the area that lead to the restroom where people could clearly see him now. Girls were coming up asking him all kinds of questions. It seemed some recognized him but they were being respectful and not going fan girl mode on him. It was a nice place but he wanted to get away. Just crawl in a whole and die. He didn't know what would get him out of this depression but he knew for sure he didn't really want to be alone in Kyoto anymore.