Atsuro likes to pretend. TowaAtsuro slash.
It's rock and roll, sex and drugs...and more /sex/.
Sometimes, they put on shows for the fans, deep throated kisses for screaming girls while they pluck desperately at their instruments, hands and fingers wild across the strings. Sometimes, even Yuki and Santa join in, Sakuya singing at the front, blue eyes fixed firmly on a spot in the audience. Ignoring, not seeing. Sasaki had been livid the first time they'd tried it, and still, he watches their concerts with a mix of disapproval and grudging acceptance.
It's the audience that rules a band. The lyrics appeal to the audience. The band members are there for the audience.
The next time Towa presses his lips against Atsuro's neck, he has to remind himself that Towa's eyes are not as warm as he thinks. There are no slow, soft kisses - only a clawing need to get it over and done with as fast as possible. And when Atsuro plays his guitar on stage, throwing his head and hair back with sweatdrops shining under the lights, he glances at Towa from his lowered lashes.
This isn't for the audience, it isn't for Towa. And just for a few fleeting seconds, he would like to believe it's for himself.