@kisumshi // Ryker for Akihiko.
Ryker doesn’t believe in fate. He barely believes in coincidences. To him, it’s all a matter of the right people being there at the right time. Or the wrong people being there at the wrong time. He’s had plenty of the wrong variety of encounters and some right ones. So when Akihiko ambles into the gas station late one night, face decorated by small injuries and a stern expression draped across his features, Ryker can’t help but wonder if this a wrong or right kind of encounter.
The first time he noticed the man, he was at a performance he had gotten tickets for from one of his co-workers for his birthday. It was a warm spring evening, the music was loud, the drinks too strong for Ry’s liking. It was the first time he noticed the drums in a song. Wasn’t the drummer supposed to go unnoticed in most performances? Always in the background, a stable presence, keeping everyone in the in the desired rhythm, instrumental to the harmony of a song, but rarely flashy enough to distract from the guitar or vocals. Yet, the drums was all that Ryker could hear. Their gazes met - briefly. The contact left a chuckle fluttering in the actor’s chest. And that is all the drummer left behind.
Until one late night as tired eyes went over lines of a script from behind glasses - a reimagining of Romeo and Juliet, aptly but uninspiredly called Romeo and Julian. He heard the automatic doors of the gas station go off and he plastered a polite smile on his lips, eyes widening at the sight. The drummer - accompanied by someone who seemed to be his lover. As he scanned their items and stole a glance in their direction, he thought that is how Romeo might have looked at Julian - just as the drummer gazed at the brunet clinging to his arm. Adoration, love, so abundant it made Ry feel as if he was prying into something he was not privy to. They exchanged a few words, he was wished an easy shift and that was it. The meeting left Ry with a heavy feeling in his stomach.
The third time they met Ryker had taken refuge on the back porch of the home in which a party his artsy friends invited him to roared on. He tried to mingle and even got the offer to spend the night with a random guy. He was tired after his first beer, though, and took his second one outside, enjoying it alongside a cigarette. He barely heard the man, until he fell next to him on the stairs, his face decorated by the marks left behind by a powerful slap. Ryker didn’t ask - he rarely does. But he did feel something inside him shift - this was dangerous. It was the same feeling he got any time he was followed along the streets of New York at night when he wasn’t careful enough about where he was strolling. They shared music tastes, with a promise for Ry to give more harsh genres like metal a try. They talked about their piercings and laughed quietly at the multitude of coincidences bringing them together. The drummer left him with his number and a feeling of excitement building beneath his ribs.
And that was it - until now. Eyes peer over the pages of the thick manuscript in his hands, a tired gaze capturing them.
“You again, huh? I’ll start thinking you’re following me,” he makes with a grin that is dropped quickly in favour of an indolent expression.
