By De Mouse

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STANDARD DISCLAIMER : All the characters used in the story belongs solely to Mouse-chan and only Mouse-chan. Mouse-chan does not make any profit from pasting this fic online. Please take note that this is purely fiction. Copiers and copy machines are not allowed to grace the surface of this story.

WARNING : POV and mild yaoi. (as if I write anything else =P)

Work.

The only thing on my mind most of the time. Thousand of pages filled to the brim with plans and calculations. Every single one of them must be carefully looked through for mistakes. Just imagine an insane amount fixtures, wires and lights rigged on metal bars, all running on high electric currents. That connected with a stage made of steel holding several people who would suffer from severe injuries if, god forbid, anything decided to come crashing down on them.

Just a loose screw and the whole thing might cave in.

A death in front of a million screaming fans might be something a suicidal maniac would dream of. I never fail to wince when I think about it.

Fortunately my job consists of only minding the complex electrical equipment. Sometimes it also revolves around getting things up and running, pulling heavy boxes up stairs, fixing wires and working through a whole mess of devices.

Clipboard in hand and a pen wedged somewhere above my ear, I stand nearby supervising the men as they set up the heavy glass on top of the crisscrossing steel. I spared a glance at wires that were being connected to their respective plugs. At night, that thick glass would light up in causing a spectacular beam of light to slice smoothly through the darkness to reveal a huge crowd of cheering fans. But right now, the light remained dull and shaded. The men carefully pulled the complex device to the high beams on the stage. They worked steadily but slowly. I didn't blame them. There would be literally hell to pay if a single crack appeared on the clear surface.

Taking my pen, I made another tick in one of those little square boxes on the paper. Give and take a few more hours, we should be able to test all the lights, making sure they all worked.

I looked up again and then frowned. There was something wrong with one of the wires. It was a little hard to see since it was so high up but years of experience did wonders to one's eyesight. I called out, my voice loud amidst the clutter of noise. One of the workers corrected the mistake that I was pointing to. I nodded to him and fell silent once more.

It was funny how much money was spent of a single night's worth of electricity for a live concert. Long ago when I was still a mere teen, I remember I fell from my seat when the lecturer informed me the costs for the basic lighting for a stage.

The sky was turning slightly orange informing us that we better hurry up with the lights or else we would be behind schedule. The sound systems were already up and running. That was at least one thing off my list. I mentally scurried through what had been done and what was still delayed then sighed pushing up my sleeves in preparation of another night devoid of sleep.

My stomach growled a reminder that I have yet taken a meal for the day. I tapped the pen on the clipboard thoughtfully. That was one of the downsides of my job. Almost everything turned up last minute even though most of it was planned months before. Meals and work times were never certain. One had to be prepared to go without sleep for a few days. Once I exchanged sleep for three days packed with running around while making sure that everything was in its place.

Right after 72 hours, I was dead on the sofa happily oblivious to the outside world.

It was a 24-hour job that required all of one's attention. It was everything that ran from tiring, insane and time consuming. But that was why I liked it so much. It kept me busy.

No time to think of other things besides work.

I smiled faintly and indicated to my assistant that I was going off to grab some food. Yusia nodded over her shoulder before talking to one of the workmen. Putting the clipboard on one of the wooden boxes that were used to transport the equipment, I made my way to the backstage in hopes of finding something to eat.

At the back, there was a surprisingly large amount of people lingering about. I blinked at the faces, finding a few familiar ones within the mass. I could hear snatches of conversation about tomorrow night's concert but decided that feeding myself was more important. Trading a few nods of greeting, I inched towards the end of the room where the changing rooms were located. I had chucked my bag into one of the empty rooms this morning before I started work. Normally workers were allowed to use the rooms until the night of the concert.

Wondering why the backstage was suddenly so crowded, I pushed open one of the changing room doors and stepped inside. The five pairs of eyes looking at my direction made me felt that I was in the wrong room. There was a pause for a moment before my confused mind recognized the faces.

L'che, the most popular band that ever swept Japan. Their themes were varied depending on what they felt like doing. That alone made their music fresh. Like any other bands that made it big, all the boys were pretty. Their unique voices gave them the edge while their outrageous style of clothes gained them the attentions of fans. Combination of looks and talent, who could resist?

There was the tall longhaired one who was born to play a mean electric guitar as well as making eyes with the ladies. The cute one that held the bass as though it was a part of him. The jovial one that could make the heavens sigh when he drew the bow over the violin strings. Then there is quiet one that never fails to capture the pulse of the music with his drums. Lastly the mysterious lead singer whose smile causes the fans to wild.

Now it is common belief that every one of us who works for the L'che get to see them everyday. However the truth it that most of us haven't even exchanged a single word with the L'che members let alone become best buddies. I have seen them perform on the stage a few times but never met them face to face before. And that is why I am somewhat at loss on what to do.

"Yes? You wanted something?" voice murmured from a corner of the room. It was the drummer.

"Oh, just needed to grab my bag" I heard myself saying. It was an automatic response while my mind was still fumbling around for the appropriate answer. I should remember to thank my social communication teacher one day. With a glance, I located my trusty but well battered bag, which sat near the door. Picking it up, I retreated while muttering an apology for interrupting.

As soon as I stepped out of the room, my mind was back on track tinkering out little details that had to be taken care off before the day was over. My stomach ignored the distracted and made a clear stand that it needed to be feed right away. Other thoughts were pushed out to give room for more important things, like how to get the stage up and ready before the manager comes around screaming.

Walking back to the open stage again, I sat on the wooden box where my clipboard was still waiting for me. The rough surface felt hard against my jean-clad butt. I rummaged inside the leather for the candy bars that hadn’t been touched for three days. Emergency supple as I like to call them. I always brought a packet of them with me whenever I went travelling. Finding one, I unwrap it and took a bite. It tasted sweet.

It's a wonder how I managed to stay thin after devouring so much sugar. Perhaps dragging heavy boxes around all day and missing countless of meals played a big part. I shrugged mentally. Thin or fat, it really didn’t matter. As long as you were able to run a mile across the stadium field while keeping enough breath to yell at some stupid idiots who had taken a million dollar worth of machinery by mistake, you could keep your job. That and of course the 6 years of university education you owned.

Yusia, my assistant came over and joined me. She had been a good friend since I started off my carrier. We worked pretty well together. I knew her close enough to know that she had a lover somewhere up north. That and the tiny fact she left her family because they tried forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want. Yes, we were close friends. Slightly older by a mere 5 years, she tended to be like a mother rather than my assistant but her working skills were nothing to complain about. Absently I offered a candy bar, which she gratefully took. Together we sat on the box looking for the world like a pair of kids watching as the night steal over the sky while eating candy bars.

"L'che is here. Mr. M said that they wanted to try out the stage before the opening," she informed me.

"Yeah, I know. Kinda stumbled on them when I went to collect my bag," I chewed on the sugary thing thoughtfully. " That means we have to get everything running by 8pm if we want to get a few hours of sleep"

Mr. M was our manager whose name was too long to pronounce and too easy to forget. So in order to make life easier we fell into the habit of calling him Mr. M. He however did loudly protest at the nickname each time we call him that but that little twitch on his lips gave us little doubt that he was always trying not to laugh. Mr. M he was and always will be.

"I don't know about you but shit, I need to sleep" Yusia shook out a cigarette and lit it. Smoke curled from its tip.

I glanced at her. She looked a little tired and there were shadows under her eyes. I wondered absently if I looked the same. It had been hours since I looked at my own reflection. We had been working hard ever since the tour started. This was the fourth stop. Two days later we would be across the ocean to God knows where. Lack of sleep was catching up fast. Added that up with jetlag, you might say that the crew and both of us were not very happy people.

"Try coffee, works wonders"

"Nah, smoking works hell a lot better for me"

"Cancer sticks," I smiled regretfully, shaking my head as she passed one to me. "Quit a long time ago. Don't plan on starting up again. Not so soon anyway"

"That's what you always say. What made you stop anyway? Besides the whole cancer thing?"

"Cancer is the only main reason," I said lightly, my shoulders a little tensed.

After all these years I never did managed to tell a perfect lie. There was always the body language that spelled out that I was not telling the whole truth. Perhaps maybe it was my strict mother's upbringing. Or the countless of dads that entered my life teaching me thousands of different traits. Some that I am thankful of while others entered my dreams like demons in the dark.

The faint tobacco scent crept into my senses. Facts that I read of concerning second hand smoking filtered into my mind trying to distract myself from thinking of the years not too long ago. Funny how much one can never forget.

But how can I? Was there any possibility of erasing his smile? His laugh? His touch? His kiss? His existence from my memories? Or the way he placed his arm around some unknown girl's waist, pulling her close for a kiss? A cruel imitation of what he used to do to a naïve boy who believed that true love existed.

First loves never did go well.

Words of comfort from a silent page of a forgotten book while my mother was screaming drunkenly, cursing a man did not pay for her 'entertainment' and her time with him.

I smiled to myself, wishing that I could laugh yet at the same time wishing that I could cry. Ironic how three years had gone and I never did put the past behind me. Taking a vicious bite out of the innocent candy bar, I forced my mind to become blank. Blank like an empty slate. Blank with nothing except the bleak darkness where everything is hidden carefully away. Pushed into the shadows where the blackness provided a chance for it to be temporarily forgotten. A chance to pretend that it didn't hurt, didn't happen.

"Oi, Erek!"

Jerking my head up, I searched for the source that called my name. A wave of a hand from a workman standing on one of the high metal beams attracted my attention. He gestured at the whole stage.

"What is it?" I called out, putting the rest of the candy bar into my mouth. I stuffed the wrapper into one of the pockets of my jeans and regretted it immediately. Making a face, I excavated the sticky bit of paper off the denim. It felt disgusting under my fingers as I folded it into a neat square. Seeing Yusia was laughing her head off, I shoved the sticky paper into her hands and grinned when an exclamation along with curses came out from her. It felt good to smile.

"We are done with the setting up. Wanna start the testing?" the workman hollered.

"Get your ass down here first." I yelled out over Yusia's words of, 'bastard' and the 'I will get you for that'. "Fried workers are not on my job assignment."

Yusia revengefully smacked my arm with my clipboard, her hands a little sticky from the wrapping paper. Then we broke out laughing, like children. I thanked whichever stars that our employers were not watching us at that moment. Professionals won't be the term they would use to call us if they ever saw us act like this.

Once all the men cleared the beams, the lights were switched on. Pure electricity flooded the stage making it almost hard to see. Stretches of the large field surrounding the stage easily came into view. The light traveled so far that it reached the walls of the stadium. The next few minutes, there was a display of colors blinking once before changing to another shade. The whole stage shone like a beacon in the dusky evening light.

"Right, that wraps it up. Basic lights please," I shouted, clapping my hands. "Tidy everything up then get the hell out of here. I don't want to see anyone hanging around before tomorrow!"

Instantly all the moving beams faded leaving only the bright white spotlights. Workmen cleared away the extra wires that littered the floor. The wooden crates were taken away and safely stacked. I stared at the sky that was rapidly turning dark. It was better to give some workers permission to go back and get some rest. They deserved it after a full day of hard work.

A sudden hustle appeared at one end of the stage. I turned to see what it was all about.

The four men that I saw in the changing room were slowly making their way to the middle of the stage. Each of them was followed by quite a large amount of people. In fact there were so many that the large stage was being filled up rather quickly. Frowning, I told some of the people working under me to get off. As much as I liked getting out myself, I couldn't since I was in charge.

"Hey, hey! Who is in charge here?!" a beady man asked after succeeding to reach out for a microphone. His thin voice sounded odd through the mike. For a moment I wondered which idiot would risk not knowing whom he placed his incredibly expensive equipment with. Mildly annoyed, I wiped my fingers on my jeans hoping that some of the stickiness would come off. A little bit of candy smeared on my jeans but that didn't bother me since the piece of denim that I was wearing was already looking like something had came around and chewed on it.

A light tap on the shoulder along with a polite inquiry snatched my attention. "Are you a Mr. Ale?"

I blinked at the man. Mind running again, I looked through for a name. It was the L'che drummer. I was painfully aware of the contrast between his dark velvet like trousers and my tattered jeans. Don't even try mentioning the old white shirt I had on. Standing next to him, I felt very, very short. Or dwarfed would be a more accurate term. He was a good head taller than I was. Blonde hair untouched by the unnatural hair dye the group frequently wore. The gold colored strands looked natural but I couldn't really tell. I was no expert in hair. Ask anything about electrical bolts and mathematical crap, I could most probably answer you but I never quite knew the difference from shampoo to conditioner. Soap, shampoo and all that bubbly stuff, it was all the same to me.

"I think I am the only Mr. Ale on the stage" I smiled.

"Good. You have no idea how hard is it to find someone in this pack," he gestured to the crowd.

I raised one eyebrow at the beady man who was still squeaking through the speakers. His glasses fell halfway down his nose as he began to demand something. Funny enough, no one was paying any attention to what he was saying. His suit that was supposed to give him some form of status only made him look tweedy. He glared angrily at the crowd as though his glare could somehow produce the person in charge. I fought the urge to smile.

"I think you might have heard of me but an introduction is required anyway" the drummer's green eyes teased warmly, he held his hand out. "Name's Aris. And you are Mr. Ale"

"Erek Ale" I corrected wincing internally. Mom was not quite sober when she named her only child. And the spelling of my first name was also another problem when one can't even recognized a pencil more or less use it. But unfortunately I did not have the time or the patience to change my name so it stuck. I shook his hand. His touch was gentle yet firm. I blinked when the connection lingered a little longer than it was supposed to.

"So Erek it is. Just wanted to know if we can try out our stuff"

"Sure, there shouldn't be a problem," I waved at the stage. "Just don't touch the lights or the sound level. I really don't want any complaints coming from…."

"Okay, we will be good. I promise" Aris smiled almost charmingly. His smile would have made quite a few fan girls swoon. I could see why there were a million of people in the world that fanatically collected every L'che poster.

There was a hint of something else in his voice that I couldn't place.

Then a hair rising screech blasted out from the large sound systems. Unfortunately both of us were standing next to one of the black towering blocks. My hands moved up to protect my eardrums. I swore I could hear my ears ringing. The L'che drummer shot a glance at the violinist that was grinning sheepishly at the people around him then turned to me.

"Being good?" I questioned doubtfully.

"As soon as I tell the rest of the guys," an apologetic wink before the blonde drummer disappeared from the view.

I stood there feeling a little confused. Was the guy just incredibly friendly or was he after something else.

"You two looked rather cosy," Yusia commented, appearing from one of the corners. Her eyebrows lifted eyes cheeky. "Flirting? Or getting banged? Although flirting is not quite your style. You seem more like the non-aggressive type."

"With rock star? Are you kidding?" I frowned looking for my bag.

"Just looked like you had something going on. Come to think of it, you are still single and not even playing in the dating field. What gives?" Yusia questioned, handing the leather item that I was hunting for. Her eyes curious but she knew me too well to push for more information.

"Just a conversation. And just for the record, I am not interested in a relationship with anyone at the moment," I paused wondering where the sudden anger came from. Forcing out a small laugh, I added, "Just not lucky when it comes to cupid issues. Then there is work"

"What I think is that you need to go home and sleep. Lack of sleep and food is making you grumpy. Candy bars doesn't equal a good meal," she grabbed me firmly by the shoulder and pushed me through the backdoor. "Go home, rest."

"Home?" I echoed, pulling my black mood away. "I recalled home was several miles away"

"Fine, hotel room if you like," she answered referring to the grand hotel that the company placed us all in. "Get a meal, maybe take a nice soak in the pool before you eat then go straight to bed. You need it"

I opened my mouth to protest but Yusia was already one step ahead of me that day.

"No, no and no, Erek" she answered packing me into the car and telling the driver where to go. "You worked most of the morning, which was about 6 hours before I even came in. You need to eat, sleep and relax. And I swear if you are going to argue with me on this, I am going to knock you unconscious and send you back anyway."

In the wake of a determine woman such as Yusia, one could only do one thing. Relent.

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One thing that I always found funny was when I walked down the corridor leading to my hotel room. It was quite evident that everyone made themselves at home regardless of where they were. Tidy ones would keep their doors modestly closed while not a speck of dirt could be seen from outside. While others had their doors wide open, yelling out that there were only 5 minutes left as they hopped gracelessly into their pants. Some even had a mismatch pair of shoes lying outside their doors, waiting for unfortunate person to come trip over them.

I hid a smile.

Our company was kind enough to buy out two whole floors to accommodate the group. Taking into consideration how much a night costs in such a prestigious place, I shy away from calculating how much did it take to buy how two floors for 2 nights. The rooms were fairly big and airy. Somehow by a large amount of good luck, I was bestowed with the opportunity to get a single room. It was a nice surprise after getting back from the stadium.

My two lumpy bags were already waiting on the table for my arrival along with a tray of food; compliments from the hotel.

I poked at the meal and sniffed at it. One thing about hotels was the room service they provided. I never trusted any piece of morsel that was concocted up by the hotel staff after the incident whereby I spent half a day puking up the food I just eaten into the toilet Needless to say, I became rather skeptical when it came to hotel meals. I poked at the plate again, wondering if I should consume it or leave it outside. It was cold so I decided to spare my stomach and take another candy bar. Unhealthy but convenient.

Stepping into the bathroom, I turned on the shower making sure the heat was all the way to maximum level. Steam rose steadily and I bent over to gaze at myself in the bathroom mirror. There were slight shadows under my eyes caused by lack of sleep. Brown depths looked rather tired after a long day of work. I grimaced at the untidiness my brown hair had lapsed into. I flicked at it then shook my head. There was no point trying to style it up since I was about to take a bath and then go to bed.

Stripping off the white shirt, I folded it carefully and placed it on the nearby chair. It was one of the many habits that I picked up in the orphanage. The nuns and priests were always very particular about tidiness. Taking off the belt that wound round my waist caused the jeans to sink until my hipbones. I glanced down at my left hip where the lightly tanned skin suddenly gave way to a jagged pale line. I ran my fingers down the length of the scar. It never failed to remind me.

He did leave a scar like he said he would.

Closing my eyes, I tried remembering which dad was it. There were so many. Mom had always told me to call them 'dad' and ask no questions. The only thing I remembered was that most of them stayed for a while. Perhaps a week or two, a month the longest. All of them were loud and their hands always hurt when they reached out. They smelt horrible when they got violent. There were always bottles littered all over the place. Most of the men ignored me but some tried to do things that never quite escaped my nightmares. I was lucky to get away but one left a scar. I can still see the bleeding knife in his hands.

He said he would hurt me. And he did.

I turned away from the memory.

It was still too raw to prod at. The water from the shower was scalding but I didn't mind. I liked it that way. Blisteringly hot, giving me the impression that I could just burn away. A sensation intense enough to occupy my mind, even though it was just for a few minutes. Another way to not recall. But memories come around anyway regardless of how much I try to suppress them.

The best place to hide for a scared 5-year-old was in a dark broom closet. It was safe since it could be locked from the insides. There one could pretend that everything was fine and the voices that were shouting just behind the wood were just the storm. The shattering glass was just the crack of thunder and the pounding on the door was just the rattling from the wind. Pretend that you were just hiding because you were afraid of the storm.

Sometimes I wonder who was my real father but mom never told me. That secret among others died with her a long time ago. Ale was just a name she picked up on the street. Disappointing find for a kid whom spent hours looking through hundreds of data to locate his bloodline.

Another face popped into my head. This time it made my eyes burn. Perhaps it was the soap that made my eyes smart. I tried to rub the ache away.

He always told me it was useless to look. Perhaps he was right. To hope was to be vulnerable to disappointment. Then he told me that he would look after me. He gave me hope and silly, foolish me for believing it. I hoped, dreamt for the fairytale ending. Naïve little boy that bought in all the lies without a single bat of an eyelash.

Silly little Erek, a little toy for someone's amusement.

Trust is such a dangerous thing. I grew up where you gave no one your trust, you depended only on yourself. Yet I gave my trust so freely to him. I laugh at myself for the thousandth time. I should have known better.

Silly little Erek, did the little toy break?

Marble floor feels wet under my skin. Smooth firm yet unfeelingly cold even in the heat.

Hot water cascades down like pouring rain.

Hot like the tears I cannot keep.

Pretend that the trails running down my face was just water. Pretend that you have never seen your own mother lying in a pool of her own blood while a stranger stares at you with her blood on his hands. Pretend that you never had to endure the cold muzzle of a gun as he wrapped his arm around you. Pretend that you did not see the blankness of his eyes or the dark hole in his head. Pretend that you never sat awake in the darkness, afraid that someone would come and hurt you again. Pretend you never fell in love. Pretend that it didn't hurt. Pretend you never cried. Pretend that you have forgotten.

Pretend that it never happened……but it did.

How do broken toys mend themselves and learn how to play again?

~OWARI?~

-should mouse-chan continue or should she leave it as it is? (blinks)