composition

From far away faint strings of bass drum thumping were audible. The huge earphones over his ears trapped most of the beats, but some of it could still be heard. His eyes squeezed closed, a lit cigarette, almost smoked down to the end, hanging from his pinched lips, he concentrated hard on the music, the vibe, he felt, was still hidden somewhere. A hand tripped and moved the black disc beneath it a bit too far and a bit too fast; his eyes opened, small black eyes full of vitality, and he let the finished cigarette drop to the pile of ash and butts near his feet. Now completely focused, he experimented more with the black disc, twisting it until he finally found the right beat and tone, and his ponytail on top of his head bopped to the new sound he had just created. And then finally he flipped the switch above which a small label said RECORD, and a rare smile spread on his thin face, his fingers making the same magic they had before.

Imagine a perfect sunset. A rooftop of an unknown building, rustic and plain. The cool evening breeze blowing, making ripples in an extremely Hawaiian floral button-down shirt. You zoom out, and a classical guitar being exquisitely played comes to the scene. A fast shot of the top of the head, the wind making waves through the man's semi-brown messily styled below-the-ear haircut. A close cropped shot of his fingers, still half-holding onto a freshly lit cigarette, studded with rings, strumming a few notes on the well-worn strings. The face of the man, complete with goatee and artistically messy moustache, in deep thought, and then a shot of his other hand, still replete with rings, writing down a string of notes on a nearby pad, already filled with several pages of notes and notation. Then finally, a final rounding-up shot, and you realise there are a handful of bikini babes fanning him with comically huge palm fronds.

In the darkened room there is a hush, a sort of silence you don't want to enter or spoil. At the large business-like desk only the table lamp is switched on; it creates a small intensely-lit circle of workable-space, and that was where he concentrated, the sheets of neatly scribbled papers piled into two piles. His pens and pencils and other stationery were neatly placed above the stacks of paper, and he paused, pushing his serious-looking glasses up the nose of his youthful face. Next to the lit area a wastebasket sat, in which lay the remains of eaten bananas, watermelon and cucumbers. Another long pause, his furrowed brow indicating his level of determination, before a pencil was lifted and neatly scribbled notations and lots of detailed notes appeared on the sheet of lined paper in front of him. He paused before setting the pencil down, contemplating what he had just wrote, humming a short section of it, before smiling slightly and setting the pencil down.

A ruffled bed, stacked high with crumpled soft white cotton quilts and fluffy duck down pillows and cushions. The time is early morning, and the sun shines through the french windows by the side and artistically light the room. Suddenly, there is a slowly drawn-out, inevitably sexy, but still inherently frustrated set of a groan and a moan from under the sheets, and a small refined hand flings the huge white covers aside. A deliciously crumpled adonis of a man fumbles, his eyes still half-lidded, for the nearest pen and paper, and when found, he scribbles something groggily but quickly onto the paper (which happens to be the back of a tissue box), before throwing them aside and flopping back down to his mountain of pillows, and tugging the huge covers over his small body. Outside, a bird song emerges, as the huge white covers slowly and gracefully deflate from all the trapped air and gently cover the man's naked body.

chiiyo's comments :
The concept for this little drabble was actually a running joke my ex-boyfriend and I had, about how the four members of Laruku are so different, and how they would probably have different methods of composing their songs. I actually took notes for all our little fic and drabble ideas, and I found that notebook only recently. Although the idea for a laruku opinion site/shrine is shelved indefinitely, the drabble concepts are still viable, and I think I'll have a lot of fun writing them out. If you still haven't figured out by now, the members mentioned are Yukihiro, Ken, Tetsu and Hyde respectively...

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