They were burning. The glow of the candle-light made everything look so perfect and flawless. But then again, we all know that nothing is perfect on this world.
He lay in bed, the black satin sheets tangled around his pale limbs, binding him in soft chains of cold and gentleness. His slender build could have been mistaken for female. His eyes were half lidded, the violet pupils hidden behind thick black lashes. This man was a star.
Not just any star, mind you. A rock star.
He was clad in nothing but a pair of black leather pants that clung tightly to his figure. He looked a little over twenty, his face possessed a childish quality that made his fans go crazy when they saw him in print or in person. He wasn't very fond of the attention. It was this attention that got him in this difficult position to begin with. Beside him on the bed lay his wife, his beautiful, sweet, charming, cute wife that all his friends envied him for. Yes, she was the thing that made his life perfect. Only problem being that he didn't love her. Sure, he loved her, but it wasn't the love that a husband would give his wife.
He had never denied himself the fact that he was bisexual, it's just that he thought he was straight as any other man in the twentieth century. In fact, when he was still in school, he had had crushes on countless numbers of people, boys and girls, even teachers. He was the perfect person. No one could refuse him. Because he was 'the most beautiful thing the world has ever laid eyes on.'
He ran a hand through his tousled black hair, his pale skin flawless in the orange glow. This man was Kamui Shirou. His wife was the one and only Kotori Monou.
Now, he was a rich, rich man, Kamui. His band had sold near three million copies in seven hours. Yes, Kamui Shirou was a very successful man. He lay back once again on the soft water bed, his eyes staring out into the dark oblivion that was the night sky. He pondered on the fact that he felt so empty and lonely when he was fawned over by beautiful people everyday and when he has a beautiful wife that would give the world for him.
But the problem lies in the part that he wasn't happy. He wanted more.
Fuuma Monou sat in front of the grand piano in the large music shop. He hardly had enough money to buy a key board, let alone a GRAND PIANO. He sighed as he touched the marble white keys dreamily. At least they let him test the pianos out even if you don't want to buy it.
He pressed down on the keys, the familiar tune of a song he had written and been practising on his sister's piano ringing throughout the place. The children that watched stared in awe as the notes came swiftly and smoothly, like an endless river of a musician's bliss. The parents that watched had whispered into their children or spouse's ear, '...will be a great musician, just like the man playing.'
It was a strange life that Fuuma led, his sister married to one of the biggest rocks stars ever and he couldn't even afford a piano. Ahahahaha. This was absolutely hilarious. Then again, he never really met this brother in law of his, let alone shares his wealth. But Fuuma had talent, talent in music. He could play almost every instrument there was out there, even the most native of instruments. He didn't learn all of it for a great career; he did it because he loved it.
He had accepted various offers from music companies all over, but in the end found that the jobs were too stressful, having to reach deadlines and given no time for relaxation and inspiration. He disliked that sort of life. No, he hated it.
And that was the sole reason that he was a poor man with a great talent instead of a rich one. Another thing was that people were interested in him for his looks, the perfectly proportioned face, the honey golden eyes and the slick ebony locks made him a very popular man indeed. Tourists had even come up to him while he was walking down the street sure he was a celebrity.
Alright, back to reality.
He was poor to a state that was pathetic.
Kamui slipped out of bed, his arm reaching for the black poet's shirt that lay on the chair beside the dresser. He slipped it over his shoulders, getting off the bed, careful not to wake his sleeping beauty. He didn't bother to button up the shirt, his hand once again reached for an item of clothing, this time a black trench coat. He made for the door, slipping on the black boots and swinging open the wooden door, he started toward his favourite music store.
Fuuma had finished his little composition, and the people had clapped and called 'bravo'. He had smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his skull as his pale cheeks flashed rosy. "Thank you," He muttered softly, before he noticed the young man staring at him from the crowd.
The man was wearing sun glasses (which were not very smart at night) and was clad entirely in black. The man's skin was so pale it scared him. He looked darn familiar.
Kamui stared at the man that stared back at him. He had entered the shop seconds before it ended and he liked it. No, he LOVED it. And that man looked so darn good....
Kamui made his way toward the man. He looked so familiar. He reached up and slipped his glasses off, amethyst eyes staring into golden ones.