[div. J-Rock/J-Pop] Drabbles

[KitKaos]

Koe ~Voice~
(200 words = double drabble)

Gestatten, Masaki Aiba. Wie per ungeschriebenem Gesetz für Boybands Tenor in einem Fünfer-Ensemble namens Arashi. Von diesen fünfen bestimmt nicht die beste, aber die vielleicht angenehm markanteste Stimme. Ein wenig rauh, kratzig, gerade samtig genug – und dank AutoTune wurden alle Noten schlussendlich auch getroffen.

Doch noch markanter als das Singen war das Lachen. Als ausgesprochene Frohnatur zuallermeist ausgelassen, laut. Ansteckend. Wiehernd! Die Stimme überschlug sich dabei, schlug ungelenk-schlacksige kleine Purzelbäume.

Schließlich, das Reden: Durfte Aiba-chan etwas erklären, nahm seine Stimme einen beinahe übereifrigen Ton an. Wurde er aus der Bahn geworfen, brach die Stimme trotz seiner fast 30 Jahre wie bei einem pubertierenden Teenager.

Sprach er mit Tieren, erlebte seine Stimme eine Berg- und Talfahrt, während er versuchte fremde Laute zu bilden. Die Tonlage seiner Stimme erhöhte sich, während sich das Tempo seiner Worte beschleunigte. Very danger!

Sprach er mit Kindern, spiegelte seine Stimme seinen sanften Blick und sein freudiges Lächeln. Kinder reagierten wie magisch darauf, erkannten er war einer von ihnen, würde zu ihnen halten, mit ihnen Spaß haben und ihnen Abends eine spannende Gute-Nacht-Geschichte vorlesen.

Kaum zu glauben, dass ihm beinahe einmal die Stimme weggeblieben war – punktierter Lungenflügel, kein Laut mehr...

Doch das ist lange her.

[KitKaos]

noch ein paar Arashi-Drabbles, die allerdings schon ein bisschen älter...

Lost
(100 words - English)

Jun so knew it had been a shitty idea to have Arashi perform on a cruise liner. Like they were some kind of third-rate thing to entertain old - scrap that, ancient! - ladies!

And then they had made the acquaintance of an iceberg. How ironic! How fittingly ironic!

He knew he was being bitchy, but stranded and lost on an island somewhere - anywhere, wherever - in the Pacific, it was just a question of time just when Aiba-chan - and Jun was sure irony would choose adorkable Aiba - would turn up with that pig's head while OMSK were still building that stupid sandcastle!

~=^*^=~

Long time no see
(200 words - English)

She used to come to his place often. Or he'd come to hers. They'd just lie there, looking at each other, only just barely touching. Or they'd be touching each other all over, limbs intertwined, hearts racing, making love. Or what he in his foolish youthful ways had thought of as love. Actually they had simply had wild, sweaty sex. Good, lustful wild and sweaty sex, but still... It's been a long time, but that's how it used to be.

When Gokusen ended, so had their relationship. And to Jun's surprise back then it had been Yukie who had stopped coming over all of a sudden. She'd never said anything, never reproached him for anything. But they'd both seen it coming.

And now that he suddenly found himself alone with her again, for the first time in four years, he didn't know what to say, what to talk about. For all their talkative natures they'd never talked, never wanted to talk for fear of... maybe of finding out that they'd never had anything to talk about to begin with.

He wanted to believe they'd both moved on... "Hisashiburi da..."

~=^*^=~

Glow
(200 words - English)

A glowing spark, weightless, drifting. And he himself dancing on it.

He was flying. Nothing could take that away, he thought. The heaviness being blown out with every smoke-filled breath, even if it only lasted an instant. Defying gravitation, carried by air only. A comfortable chill down the spine that told him he was still alive, still breathing, still there.

Eventually one becomes numb. A flight of fancy, downward. He watched the smoldering remains of what had once been his conscience, watched it spiral downward, out the window, through the chill night air, to the street so far underneath. A moment of silence that was just his.

If anyone had asked him, he would have admitted he had missed it. Had missed that calm that spread inside him, all the stress, all the pent-up worries and frustration leaving him when exhaling. He had tried to quit, had gone without for quite a while, impressions and emotions washing over him again – washing him overboard.

It had been a test to the strength of his will. He had borne it with pride. In the end, the real world had caught up.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, trying not to think.