Please Love Me - Chapter One

Please Love Me
-Chapter One-


Thin walls are an annoyance. When you’re trying to sleep and you can hear your neighbor bitching left and right about every little thing. Or even worse; when you’re desperately, horribly, lonely and you can hear your neighbor and their lover going at it hot and heavy for unmentionably long amounts of time. Thin walls are resulted from poor management and building skills, on top of poor income and being forced to rent out an apartment building because your stupid ‘friends’ decided that they didn’t actually want to form a band if it required actual work. Yeah, as if fame just drops out of the sky and you’ve got babes drooling all over you within days of signing your soul over to the devil. -er…. Management Company.

Yami could remember the first time he’d finally confronted that cerulean haired demon. How his voice had suddenly stuck in his throat and he could only blink and stand in silence. How he’d merely shook his head and gave a pitiful, “Never Mind.” Before stalking back into his apartment, body shaken by pure shock at just how gorgeous the other man was. He had slept in his living room for three straight weeks, just so that he wouldn’t be harassed by the sounds of moans and groans that would be echoing off of his bedroom walls. So that he couldn’t be so entirely swept up in jealousy by the one(s) pounding and being pounded by that man.

Two months passed of finally being able to sleep in his own room. But he paid more attention to the blue haired man who he found smoking outside of the complex on occasion. Ensuring he said good morning/afternoon/evening every time they passed. Finding it awkward how his heart would leap into his chest and he’d feel the insatiable pull of this obviously eclectic man.

Even now, as he sat on the front stoop of their apartment complex, he was anxious for the man to return home from his errand running that he did every day. Yami had made it his proffered hobby to track the man’s schedule down. Making sure he could ‘bump’ into him as often as possible throughout the day. He didn’t consider it stalking… it’s not like he was going to harm Dmitri or anything… He just wanted to be his friend. Yami was just far too chicken shit to actually approach the other man.

Not to mention it seemed as though Dmitri led a very odd life. He was either cheating on his boyfriend, or he had two in his life that were perfectly fine with each other. Obviously zero space for Yami to interject.

A pair of thin sunglasses perched on a slim nose, protecting muddy brown eyes from the determined rays of the sun. Sweat making his thin white tank top cling to his toned back as a tired hand raked over a tan forehead. It was always so damn hot. Yami idly wondered why he didn’t move back to New York after his band failed to make the deal in Florida, but pushed the thought aside easily. If it hadn’t been for him coming in the first place, he’d never had the opportunity to spy upon Dmitri, would he?

So fingers wrapped around the neck of his abused acoustic guitar with a gentle sigh. The other hand digging into the pocket of light blue swim trunks to pull out a black pick. Strumming along the strings, he groaned and wrinkled his nose. The instrument needing some serious tuning before it’d ever sound proper. So fingers deftly went to turning knobs while conscious ears listened for the appropriate hum to exude from the hunk of wood.

Yami watched out of the corner of his eyes as two men approached the building. The metal on his nose connecting the lenses of his glassing falling down to the tip of his nose from built up sweat before he pushed them back up to the bridge with his middle finger. He could barely hear what they were talking about, too focused on watching a hand snake around Dmi’s waist and trying to pretend to tune his guitar in the process. When they were nearer, he tilted his head down before blowing a bit of honey colored hair out of his face; noting on the side that he needed to get the sides of his Mohawk clipped because it was starting to edge out over the shells of his ears.

Apparently, something had Dmitri in a mood. That worried Yami slightly, but he showed nothing but indifference as he tilted onto his hip to let the man’s boyfriend, Justin, pass easily. Pursing his lips, he shook his head. Not even so much as a simple, “Excuse me”… how rude. Obviously there wasn’t much room in Dmi’s life for a third lover… Hell, Yami couldn’t even imagine trying to make due with one. Not much patience, really. Then again, when you’re the guitarist for an alternative grunge band… not much patience is really needed, is it?

So, chewing on his lip ring, fingers continued the motions of tuning the instrument before he noticed Dmitri offering him a slight smile. The corners of his lips rose up wryly before giving the guitar a strum. Finally, it sounded right. He sat in contemplative silence, watching his neighbor through the dark tinted lenses out of conscious decision to keep his place and not bother the man. It was odd to think that someone who could sing, scream, and wail on a guitar in front of a crowd of people could be so damn shy as to not even communicate with someone he saw on a daily basis.

Turning his eyes down to the guitar once more, fingers pressed down on the struts and he began strumming. Playing a couple of notes before he quickly jumped into a frantic mesh of taps, plucks, strums, snaps, and pulls on the abused instrument. It lasted for a good minute before he paused and actually began playing real ‘music’ by what today’s standards considered it. It was actually a song he had written for his neighbor, unknown to the blue haired beauty. Not that it really mattered.

Yami seriously doubted the other was listening anyways.

But the fact that the assistant probably didn’t care about his music didn’t stop Yami from playing away on his guitar and singing out the lyrics softly. He had two days before another open mike night at the local bars to practice his solo stuff. He’d give it two months of circulating the bars and playing music before he’d return to his home town and attempt to listen to his parents’ advice and finally get a stable job.

Yami let his fingers tap against the hollow body of his guitar in contemplative silence before he was shocked nearly out of his skin. “That first part you played, that was something else.” Dmitri smiled as the song came to an end, flicking ashes onto the ground as he stepped closer to the stoop.

Peering up over the top of his glasses, he realized that not only had Dmi turned around, but he was talking to him. He tilted his eyes back down to the guitar at the complement with an utterance of, “Thanks,” Before smiling softly.

“What was the song about?” His smile still held as he brought his nicotine fix back up to his lips, inhaling a little slower that time.

Sometimes he forgot what language he was singing in. Having grown up in southern Japan for more than half of his life, he naturally reverted to his native tongue when not focusing on what he was doing. Like when he answered his phone, or spoke to his parents. Not that his English wasn’t crystal clear, no, five years in American schools being teased for a strange accent had gotten him out of the habit of switching his R’s and L’s around.

Turning his vision back up to the cerulean man, Yami’s lips rose in a wry smirk of sorts before clearing his throat. “A one night stand…” He informed with a soft chuckle, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose before running the same hand through his hair to push it away from his eyes. “…About not giving a damn about anything but your own pleasure. Fuck the world.” Another gentle chuckle before he slid the guitar off of his legs to balance it against the steps he sat on.

Listening to the meaning of the song that his fellow tenant was singing out on their stoop Dmitri nodded his head slowly before turning his head to the side and blowing out some more smoke. “That’s a great way of doing things.”

Glancing over his shoulder he jutted a thumb towards the doorway. “What crawled up his ass and died?” Of course, he was talking about Justin’s utter rudeness when it came to everything that had to do with everything. He’d never actually seen the brunette happy in all the time they had been neighbors. The man sending off a seriously pessimistic vibe in all of his actions.

He took another drag and looked back at the male in time to see him point at the door. Blue eyes rolled as his head shook. “The world died in there.” His response was given in a painfully dreary and rough tone, meant to show how Justin would reply to such a question. A laugh left him and he licked his lips. “I’ve seen him smile once since I met him and he was on laughing gas.”

Then again… if that was the boyfriend being cheated on, then he’d probably have good reason to be pissy all the time. But, Yami wasn’t even sure if he was being cheated on. For all he knew, they were all lovers and switched off accordingly. It was a strange world and weird shit happened without natural consequence.

“Sorry about him, he’s just an asshole.” Dmitri explained.

Yami nodded at the comment of Justin being an asshole. He couldn’t help but agree, from what he’d heard through the walls the man had a penchant for saying mean things and throwing fits over ideologies that don’t deserve such grand attention. Quite the queen it seemed. He was tempted to ask why Dmi didn’t just ditch the brunette if he’s suck an asshole, but it wasn’t his place to advise someone on their personal life. Not to mention, he’s not supposed to actually know anything about Dmitri to begin with.

He looked at the sitting one in thought for a second before bending so they were nearly on the same level. He reached a hand into the back of his black pants and pulled out a small blue card. It was a simple thing, it just had his name and his dream career—choreographer—neatly scripted out in blue cursive letters.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself before, Dmitri Lennon.” He put the card in the palm of his hand and held it out so he could get across the point that he wanted the male to take the card as well as shake his hand if he wanted.

The musician plucked the card up between two fingers before shaking his hand in return. “Yami Tishigaro…” He introduced with a wide smile, letting his glasses fall to the tip of his nose again so that he could fully absorb the impact of the bright blue eyes opposing him. Falling into an even deeper intrigue with the neighbor. Taking his hand back, he finally looked at the card with a skeptical raise of his brow.

So Dmitri wanted to be a dancer… or rather, he is a dancer and wants to make other people dance. Interesting. That would explain how he stays so trim without actually working out that Yami had managed to notice.

“I want to hear that song again; are you going to be doing an encore of it sometime soon?”

Lips parted in slight awe at the compliment to his music before the left corner rose in a half smile. “I’ve managed to get half an hour worth of stage time at the Burning Bar down on the corner of Rose and Hawley on Friday.” He informed with a suggestive raise of his brow. Surprised that the man would be interested at all to hear more of his music. “Perhaps you might be able to hear it in English as well.” He joked with a soft laugh.

“It’d make it a lot easier to sing in the shower if I did.” He finished the last of his cigarette and dropped it onto the ground, crushing it underfoot and leaving his toe on top of it so he would remember to pick it up before he disappeared into his apartment.

Yami leaned over to slip the card through the hole in the body of his guitar, writing himself a mental note to fish it out later. The man knew that if he were to put it in the pocket of his pants they’d end up getting washed before he remembered to take it out and set it somewhere so it wouldn’t get ruined. Shifting to his feet, Yami stretched his arms out in front of him and cracked his knuckles before sighing. “Well… I’ve got some laundry to do and I’m pretty sure ‘Asshole’ would like your attention.” He muttered as he scratched at the nape of his neck.

Bending at the waist, he plucked up his abused instrument before saluting Dmitri with two fingers. “I guess I’ll see you around.” He muttered before retreating within the apartment complex as well. He couldn’t help but be anxious for Friday to come. Not only was it another shot to possibly wow a record producer who might be in the area, but Dmitri could possibly be there to witness his skills… and fall in love with him.

Okay, so that last part is a long shot, Yami knew that. But one can hope, right?