Music to My Ears

[Lustre]

MUSIC TO MY EARSxxx

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queza

x



https://www.rpnation.com/profile/10968-hisokun/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/10968-hisokun/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/10968-hisokun/@hisokun

https://www.rpnation.com/profile/10968-hisokun/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/10968-hisokun/https://www.rpnation.com/profile/10968-hisokun/


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xxxOne activity that all musicians have in common or at least should have is continuous practice. Emi, as a professional singer, is in no way an exception. Exercising her vocal muscles every day helps her make fewer errors while performing but the time she spends practicing often varies in accordance with her daily schedule and most importantly her mood. However, being in the midst of preparations for the up-coming charity concert, she has turned a blind eye to her priorities and begun meddling in things that could be taken care of by her manager.


Comfortably seated on a sofa in one of the recording studios of her label house, Emi was thoroughly inspecting the pictures of the venue for the concert on her laptop. She had no other complaints but one: the stage was taking up more than enough space, thus giving her the feeling of being completely cut off from the audience. She bit down hard on her lower lip and noted to herself that she would need to apply some necessary changes.


“As soon as he gets here…” she mumbled as a loud yawn escaped her throat, thrusting her body to simultaneously stretch outwards. She had only now noticed how stiff an hour of barely moving can make a person. A nap at this afternoon hour would definitely do some good for her psyche. Alas, she did not have that privilege at the moment for she was eagerly waiting for her manager to arrive… of course, to discuss the up-coming interviews and promotional events. Any other motive would strictly undermine her professionalism. “Too much of a problem… isn’t it?” Emi pondered, twiddling her thumbs as she lulled against the sofa support, unsure of what kind of emotional commotion was taking place in her stomach area. “Don’t be so dense, keep your cool, be an ice-berg…” she kept talking to herself, subconsciously pulling out her phone to check for any facial irregularities in her reflection. She quickly put in place the many hair threads that had strayed and with a deep breath began humming the melody of one of her breakout hits. No, it was not one of those sappy romantic songs… it was that multiplied by two. Perhaps turning towards a hardcore metal sound would stream her thoughts elsewhere, as far away from romance as possible. Everything would be much easier if only she was not 26 years old and a drowned fish in the ocean of love.


It was not only the size of the stage that mattered now, as she came to think about it. What else she needed to discuss with her manager was on an entirely different level. Soon enough, her label house would be celebrating its Xth birthday and as any before, this one too would be a grand celebration, comprising many famous artists and businesspeople. Now, the problem was not the birthday itself. Rather, her issue involved the usual extra invitation she never wounds up putting to good use. “Who am I gonna go with…” out loud thought Emi, looking up at the ceiling as if the answer to her question was written there.

 

[hisokun]

"Me." Glen bursts inside the room, a smile creeping up his face. He's carrying his papers and documents in his hand, a briefcase slung on his fingers. He arranges them on the table to make sure that he doesn't miss anything. That's the problem with being the manager: he always does the dirty work. Every time a rumour flies out the window and staples itself to a new report, he has to erase it off the internet. And then, he finds another issue - this time, confirmed and obviously true - to make the people forget of the previous one. The concerts, the possible movie debuts, the albums, and the fans - he has to take care of all that.


He decides the tickets, checks Emi's opinion on the matter, and makes the negotiations. He calls every single ticket arena and confirms the price. When the tickets go overboard and practically destroys the mainframe of the system, he has to check in on that, too. If it isn't a concert, it's an album. He calls the best artist or photographer in the country, and asks him or her to make the cover for the album. He's Emi's voice; he will choose the most comfortable thing for her, make sure that she's okay with arrangements. If she is, then the album is good to go.


But the worst of them all are the fans. They're crazy and absolutely on the verge of breaking through that crack. He doesn't know how Emi can handle them. The boys are rowdy, always asking for photographs even though it's clear that she can't, tattooing Emi's name on their chests like they own it, like they have tasted it with their own tongues. Glen tries to convince himself that he's not jealous, because he's not. Emi is her own person, and he's just there to make sure that it stays that way. Whatever rubble or cement she grazes along, he will slide that away to make sure that her skin stays clean and bruise free.


Really, that's the only thing he can do. At the moment, it's the only thing he wants to do.


"Just kidding!" Glen chirps, finally finally the paper he's been looking for. "So. Party. You'll either be going with Rin Akiyama or Arata Ito. You know them." He scrunches his face up. "Hotshots in the business. Probably your future partners." He huffs, before a joking smile appears on his face again. "Or! You can just go with me. Really, it's your pick." He shrugs.


He puts the paper away and heads to the couch, his briefcase in his hands. He opens it and finds even more papers. It's such a wonder how he can keep up with all of them. But he has the mind for that. He leans against the couch, his composure slowly breaking. He's spent all day straight on his back, finalising the interviews set next week, and the month after. It's just Emi, so he trusts her not to tell his little secret: he just can't keep his back straight for more than twelve hours.


"All right! You have an interview with the Old Man on Monday. And when I say Old Man, I really do mean Old Man." He looks at her in the eye, his expression serious. "Do good in this interview, and you'll have the press running after you. Do bad, and they'd still be running after you. Only it's for the wrong reasons." He settles his arm on the headrest with a small smile. "So, who are you going with to the party?"

 

[Lustre]

To her astonishment, an unexpected answer uprose as if godsend. Bug eyed and slack-jawed by default, Emi briskly perked up, wondering whether she had heard him right. Her mind wouldn't play tricks on her on such a matter, would it? Oh, it definitely would. It wasn't that she was particularly excited about it being true, even though some would say otherwise from a different perspective. Rather, she felt as though Glen had just dropped a heck of a big stone on top of her, expecting she carried it over and threw it in a pit full of previous hope arising situations. By now, she should have learned not to pull the rod on the very first bite when it came to Glen, for most of the time, she ended up with an empty hook.


What does fishing have to do with this? She wondered where her thoughts were leading her when she realised she was just spacing out in front of him who was already cluttering the room with papers that seemed to endlessly come out of the man's suitcase. Clearing her voice, she sat back on the sofa again, fixing her downcast glance on the floor. He managed to set her thoughts straight in a mere second, assuring her in her initial belief - he was just joking after all. Still, determined not to let it get to her, she was quick to replace her discouraged expression with a well faked radiant smile, replying,


"I'd rather bury myself in a pile of last year's shoes than go party with that Akiyama guy!" she burst in a high-pitched voice, shaking her head at the same time. "They say his mere presence sends out negative vibes to other people's brains, brooding them all over..." Emi assured this fact by nodding a few times while gesturing towards her left temple. The last thing she wanted was to associate with ill-natured people. They would always make her lose her usual cool and say things she had never dreamt of saying. A scandal that arose several months ago could surely account for this. Arata Ito sounded like a much better choice, albeit not the one she'd prefer the most.


"As for Ito-san...," she let out a sigh as her eyes drifted sideways. She was unsure of what to do next. Perhaps if she were to make the situation where Glen was her partner for the party seem as a positive thing that could contribute to further her popularity, perhaps if so, maybe he wouldn't suspect her of anything. Wait a second. There wasn't anything he could be suspicious of in the first place. They were involved professionally on every possible level and as such, it would be perfectly normal if, for example, she were to ask him for a dance. Then again, dancing was never her strong point. She hadn't got enough fingers on both hands to count the many times her choreographer was on the verge of tears during practice. Anyway, to avoid the silence becoming awkward, her dulcet voice broke it,


"I guess I can go...," has she enough courage? "... with Ito-san." It didn't seem like it. Even though it was for certain now that Glen wouldn't be there to pick her up, walk the red carpet with her and honour her with a dance, at least, she was sure he would be at the party too. After all, he was invited, right? She'd better make sure. She'd hate to see her manager miss on enjoying the abundant amount of food they set up every year. "But you're coming too, right?" she tried her best not to sound overly interested in his matter, even going to great lengths such as involving another woman. "I'm sure you've already got yourself hooked up with a dance partner," she said, chuckling at the thought. Stupid. Why'd she have to mention it? Inwardly, the image of Emi slapping herself multiple times left some of us smiling devilishly.

 

[hisokun]

Now, if Glen were to be honest (which is something that will never happen), he'd rather go with Emi.


There are lots of reasons. One being this: She would be beautiful that night. Emi has already picked out a gown, with the help of Glen. He'd given her his opinion about this, judging from his own taste. Honestly, his eyes bulged when she finally put it on - and he couldn't stop thinking about it on the ride home. But her beauty is a given. Everyone would look at her, beg to take a picture, ask her for a dance, anything to keep a portion of her attention trained on them. He can already picture it in his head. Emi's hair would be draped on her shoulders, curling around the shape of her backbones. Her makeup would compliment her face structure. And her skin would look like it's been kissed by angels.


The second reason would be because he . . . Just because. He just wants to go with her. He's comfortable with her, mostly because they've been partners for nearly a year. With her success rate, it would hopefully be longer. Emi is the best client he's had since the previous one. Her concerts are always splendid to watch, and he can see the improvement blooming inside her. If anyone were to ask him who to work with next, after their contract is finished, his answer would still be Emi.


Honestly, he just refuses to admit it. There's nothing worse than being honest to someone else.


Which is why he has no right to be jealous when she agrees to go with someone else. "Ito-san," he repeats, his voice low. "Right. That guy." Arata Ito isn't that bad of a guy. In fact, he's won a lot of movie awards, as well as record an album that evolved into a well-known tour. He's nice and competent in interviews, but he lacks the enigma that Glen obviously has. He nearly slaps himself on the face when he realises his mistake. If Emi wants to go with Arata Ito, then he can't really do anything about it.


"Of course I am." Glen shifts, so that he's directly facing her on the couch. His leg is propped on the sofa, and his arm is resting on the headrest. He connects his temple to his knuckles as he looks at her. He smirks. "I have to make sure that my little pop star is doing well." Though, that's not the only reason. He wants to see Emi, even just for one moment. He can leave when he's bored. He doesn't want to dance with someone, either. "If you're asking if I already have a date, then no, I don't." He suddenly scrunches his face up. "Speaking of dancing, please tell you've practiced."

 

[Lustre]

Emi’s face was wreathed in smiles upon her hearing that he would be attending the party as well. To make the sun shine even brighter, no other woman would be there to distract and drift him away from, as he said, his little pop star. Naturally, this precise thought consumed all of her attention accounting for her failure to register how directly he was facing her now. As such, he had a much better perspective and the ability to see right through her if he so desired. Nevertheless, to her that mattered not in the moment. She felt as pumped as if she had just done one of those excruciating yet energizing morning jogs she would always complain about right before being forced into doing it.


A few moments later, though, her conscious self jolted her back to reality. It was clear to her that she had to focus; otherwise, she could dangerously slip away into her fantasy land and perhaps get discovered. That was when she almost started panicking, nibbling on her lower lip as her eyes drifted sideways in a rapid motion. Thankfully, her dancing was brought into question. Albeit it didn’t bring her much joy, either, at least she had something else to engross in.


A small pout grew steadily on her face as it furrowed. The topic of dancing always let a bitter taste in her mouth. However, she had thoroughly practiced this time round and only for one particular reason which would include Glen being able to see her at the very least. Having taken a deep breath, Emi shaped her pout into a smirk, cracking her neck and tucking her hair behind her small ears. Her arms thrust up in the air as she huffed,


“Let me show you just how good I am.” As confident and excited as she sounded, her mind was nowhere near considering her skills trustworthy. For no matter how hard she would practice, something always seemed to go wrong.


She stood up and walked over to the middle of the room which was for the most part breakable object free. Once secure on her toes and straight in her posture, she started waltzing around, her chest popped and stiff and her curvy waist perfectly outlined by a black, knee-length dress. Albeit it appeared steady and a tad bit graceful at the beginning, the real show started when she mixed up her back and forth, left and right, almost tripping over her own feet but carefully managing to balance herself up while strange hissing noises were pouring out of her puckered lips. She was dead focused on trying to waltz properly that she had forgotten to just go with the flow and ended up bumping into and knocking over a set of cymbals with her hip and creating such a clamoring racket that it sounded as though she had angered the god of thunder himself.


“Yikes!” she fidgeted repeatedly, horror written all over her face as if she had just made last on the Top 100 Hits of the Year list! To make matters worse, Glen had to be there to witness her utter failure. If only the ground would open and swallow her whole to the darkest and deepest pit in the underworld where she would never be heard of again, only then would she feel relieved. Nevertheless, the chance of that happening was as slim as her dancing impeccably. Not in a million years would that happen.


Her body slumped in a crouch as she buried her head between her knees. Time, please go back. Time, please go back. She begged inwardly but it was fruitless. At the same time, she prompted a finger in the air so as to make a point.


“Dancing to pop and rock is better, I swear!” she gasped, embarrassment written all over her hidden face. How was it that she had so much talent for making herself look like a fool in front of this very person? She was an adult for heaven’s sake, yet she couldn’t even find a way to tie all the loose ends up in such situations.


“It would have been much better with a partner, I promise…” she spoke in a low voice, still clinging onto some slowly diminishing hope that he wouldn't laugh too hard.

 

[hisokun]

He has been hoping that she'll finally get it right - and for a brief moment, she is. Her body is fluid, moving carefully on the floor. The dress clings to her smooth curves, forcing him to keep his eyes trained on the way her body is moving. She may not have a lot of sex appeal - if anything, the word he can use to describe her is gorgeous - but her body is like an ocean, deep, full of fault-lines, and not even time to breathe. She's captivating in a way that she doesn't have to do anything. That's one of the things he loves about Emi: she's never the person anyone expects her to be. And for a guy like Glen, that's exactly the kind of girl who keeps him rolling cautiously on his toes.


But all his hope diminishes when he senses the wrong moves, looking at the trembling of her feet. She's going to fail on the dance floor, if ever her partner asks her to do it with him. He bets Ito will have blisters by the end of the night. And he bets Emi will be more embarrassed than anyone else. Give her a microphone, and she'll blow everyone's minds away with her voice. But once she's required to do something else - she will fail over and over again. It's kind of endearing, actually, but most of the time, it's just hilarious.


Which is why he's trying very hard not to laugh. But he's failing miserably.


His shoulders are shaking as he bites down on his lower lip. He's clutching his stomach, closing one of his eyes when his collar starts to tickle his neck. Seriously, Emi is so ridiculously awful at dancing that he has the strong urge to teach her himself. Just then, the idea forms in his head until he can taste it on his tongue. He gets up from the couch and walks toward her, helping her to her feet. She's light, so her body shouldn't be that heavy when she's trying to move. His hands are firm on her waist. His breath is warm and thick against her neck. He slowly lets Emi sway to an invisible beat, resting his chin on the top of her head.


"Relax," he murmurs. "You're trying too hard. Just go with the flow."


Her body is hot against his skin. He looks down at her, trying not to blush. But it's hard when their faces are close, and Emi's face is still flushed with embarrassment. His hand slides to her lower back, instead, keeping her steady. The other is comfortable on her hip, his thumb tracing small circles on the mountain curve of her waist. "Act like I'm your date," he says softly. "We're dancing, but we're alone. No crowd, just us." Imagine that the electricity between us is burning so hard you'll actually know how to dance.

 

[Lustre]

Her ears perked up to the sound of his unsuccessfully muffled laughter. She knew it. She absolutely knew it! She would have to start mentally slapping herself each time she would think of trying to impress him by doing something she barely had the talent to. Nibbling hard on her lower lip, she kept her eyes so tightly shut that she could already anticipate the incoming haziness. To her surprise though, a set of smooth and subtle hands helped her stand up as they attached themselves firmly on her waist. Her eyes shot open, revealing a hazy image of Glen who seemed to be taking the initiative to teach her how to dance! Was that it? Once her sight cleared, she realised that her body was swaying sideways in sync with his. Her heart skipped a beat, clutching time within its grasp, the time she took to play dumbfounded.


It's one of my delusions again, isn't it? A skeptic chuckle echoed in her mind as she placed her hands on his shoulders to make sure that he was tangible enough not to be part of her deceitful fantasies. Upon touching him, she sighed in relief as a warm smile spread on her face. Only then did she find that the usual gap between them had fled. Now, they were only inches apart, able to respond to each other's heat waves and breaths against skin that ensued ticklish goosebumps. It slowly became apparent how relaxed and light Emi felt. However, this state only lasted until he laid his furtive eyes on her. Her face immediately flushed with embarrassment as her body tensed up, threatening to disrupt the slick movement of their bodies. Her sight fell on the floor the moment his hand had reached her lower back. Fortunately, his soothing voice eased her tension and prevented her from making another hazard.


I'd love to if only acting as your date was so easy! A pout emerged on her face as one of her hands clutched his suit tightly between its fingers. Emi felt urged to nest her head on his chest but she dared not to. After all, that could severely impact the professional level she tried to desperately cling onto as she felt his body heat pull her in by each step they had taken.


"Damn, you're so good." She etched a white-toothed smile on her face, genuinely admiring his skills and demeaning her own. Thankfully, she didn't partake in being the lead so for now both had their feet uninjured, perhaps because she was more focused on trying to resist the strong magnetic field between them that, if it hadn't grown hands by now, seemed mercilessly inclined to make her assault him. On top of that, she could barely afford to breathe normally, the racing within her heart growing stronger.


The moment she noticed she had been wrinkling his suit was when everything started going in the wrong direction. She let go of him immediately, apologising in a huffy voice, "Sorry, sorry, I wrinkled it." To make matters worse, she stomped on him... once, twice, thrice! Oh, God already, stop! She grasped his hands firmly, stopping their movement and looking right into his eyes. "Darn it, I ruined it." Her face furrowed as she bit down hard on her lower lip, obviously angry at her lack of skill but inwardly beaming for being given the chance to dance with him.

 

[hisokun]

Everything has been going well. Emi has made his heart beat faster, making it hammer wildly in his chest, like it's threatening to tug itself out. The fact that their bodies are mingling together, their skin heating up whenever they make contact - doesn't really help his case. He knows what his feelings for Emi are. He can't deny the visible attraction between them, the thread that's pulling loose out of its seams. And Emi can't deny it, either, because she's not doing any better at hiding what she wants.


What does he want?


He wants her closer, until their cheekbones are melting against each other, until the hardened brick between them has disappeared, until their lips are the only things that are moving in the world. But that's hard to catch, isn't it? Their professionalism can only reach so much. Anything more than that will leave the both of them rocking. For Glen, it will mean the end of his sanity. His good looks will take places, so his career won't have any of the damage. Emi, on the other hand, . . . He knows what an idol like her can run into. The paparazzi will go mad with the photos. Newspapers and magazines will explode on the stands.


Even worse, people will think that Emi has done something else to get a hotshot manager to work for her. Although, it's obvious that Glen's first interest in her is for her talent alone.


He squeezes her hands gently, reassuring her that he's not angry. Honestly, he's expected it the first time they've started dancing. "You ruined our moment," he points out. "Not my shirt." He can care less about the shirt. He pulls her back into his arms again, encircling them around her. Her skin is soft, like velvet. He traces his fingers on the length of her upper arms, smirking. "I know I'm good. That's why you have to do better." He spins her around slowly. "See?"


Suddenly, he realises what he's doing. He retrieves his hand from her grasp and pushes it inside his pocket. "You're going to do fine." His heart starts to hammer again. "But I'll be going. I need to work on your schedule." Her schedule is already done, pinned on his office. What he really needs to work on is how to make sure Emi doesn't get too close. He gathers his things, stuffing them inside his briefcase. He nods at Emi one last time before he exits the studio, leaving his heart - and his sanity - behind.

 

[Lustre]

Every word he had said that could inspire rushed into her mind. He was a perfectly ordained confidence booster. By the time he had left the room, the fact that she had ruined their moment could do little to bring her down. She had already bounced back to her usual unfazed self, a fire burning bright in her eyes. Her knees ceased quivering as her arms folded on her chest. She plucked up a dainty smile, breathing stealthily for a few quiet moments before she said in a firm voice, "One day, I'll surely steal a kiss or two." She mentally noted to herself, tapping her index finger against her chin. However, no matter how confident she sounded, testing her limits currently was too far-fetched. Perhaps if it was someone else, anyone else, she would do it easily. The situation with Glen had just one tiny problem... he was Glen.


"Darn it, I forgot!" Emi gasped as her eyes widened upon her realising that she hadn't told him about the problem with the size of the stage. It was exactly this kind of thing that suffered the consequences of their private and public lives mixing. Her career could wind up getting destroyed, not to mention his reputation as one of the best managers out there. She wouldn't want that for sure. It's a pity that kiss could never come true. Instead of moping about it, though, she began her vocal exercises, warming up first and then working on her breathing. Still, being all alone in the studio, having the feeling that the walls would soon shrink on her after the passing hour, Emi slunk out of it, humming on the way to her dressing room. She was quick to slump into one of her favourite lazy bags and groan in delight. As bad luck would have it, though, her phone's ringtone echoed through the cluttered room. She should have definitely checked who it was before answering for she was about to regret it.


"Chouka, darling, I've finally found the perfect dress for the party! You have to see it. It'll make a dazzling entrance!" Precisely, that utterly annoying, overly high-pitched, fake voice belonged to her mother dearest. Emi's eyes squinted as she grumbled in the back of her throat. It was almost amazing how that woman could miff her so easily. "Are you there, honey? Don't tell me I'm interrupting you in something. You can't possibly be with a man, so that's not it. Speaking of men, have you finally started a proper diet? Your sex appeal is worse than an alpaca's, mildly speaking." Emi grit her teeth tightly. Had she any sharp claws as those of a lion, they would be pulsing intensely, inspired by the need to plunge that woman's neck. With years worth of experience, though, Emi successfully calmed down and replied,


"Yes, yes, I'll beat the alpaca, for sure," sarcasm rolled off her lips which she had the bad habit of always nibbling. "And I don't need a man. I told you last time, I'm turning lesbian, okay?"


"Don't talk nonsense. You even lack sense of humour, not only a boyfriend," the woman knew not when to stop, keen on hammering down Emi's self-esteem. "Make sure to look at least decent for the party. I'd hate to outshine my own daughter." And with that she was out.


"Too late, you're already doing it." Emi sighed, nipping the bridge of her nose. Her mother was an unbearable woman, but a very attractive woman nonetheless. Compared to her, Emi was on the level of an alpaca but she was a special alpaca, a different alpaca, one that came in a rainbow of hues and had cute, little, pointy ears. "Maybe I'll get an alpaca for my birthday," she sighed, rocking her body sideways.

 

[hisokun]

A car is already waiting for him in front of the building. The guard opens his door for him, bowing as Glen passes. Glen nods his head in gratitude. Once he's all settled in, the guard closes the car shut, and the driver speeds toward his apartment. While he waits, Glen looks at the billboards plastered at almost every corner of the city. Unsurprisingly, Emi's face is in most of them. Her dark hair is splayed over her shoulders like a wave. Her eyes are sultry and demanding and sweet. Her lips are pursed, tempting him to look even closer. A few minutes before, Glen could have had those lips against his own mouth. But he pushed the idea away, as well as Emi herself. It's hard to keep himself in check when the girl he likes knows exactly what to do to lure him in, even though she doesn't know that herself.


Glen pulls his phone from his pocket and dials Arata Ito's manager, Ren. He tucks the phone in the shell of his ear and waits for the other line to be received. Arata Ito isn't a bad guy. In fact, he'll give Emi even more press, only the spotlight will be more trained on her. Unfortunately, Glen doesn't like any of the guys Emi has ever worked with. He'll be lying if he says that he's not jealous, but he's not proud of it, either. Why will he be jealous when Emi doesn't even belong to anyone? She can do whatever she wants, as long as the paparazzi aren't around. Glen doesn't really care as long as she's safe. The only time she isn't is when she's with him.


"Ren speaking."


"Ren." Glen clears his throat. "This is Glen. Emi has confirmed the arrangement. She'll go with Arata-kun to the Gala."


"Oh, that's great. Does she already have a dress?"


"She's working on it. They'll be arriving together for the carpet showing."


Glen can imagine Ren nodding at the phone. "All right. We'll plan it out. Nice talking to you, Glen." With that, Glen turns off the call and inserts it back in his pocket. He sighs heavily, knocking his head against the seat. He wants to go with Emi, which is why he insinuated it earlier tonight. But he can also list the consequences that will follow. He doesn't want Emi involved if it means that she'll get hurt. Glen covers his hand over his eyes and waits for the car to arrive at the apartment. He imagines Emi waiting for him at home, and he wonders whether that will ever come true.