Noisy Neighbours

Chapter 1

Kagami groaned and covered his head with his pillow, trying to block out the low, repetitive, annoying sound thrumming through the thin walls of the hotel. It was an unmistakable noise, clearly amplified because there was no way in hell it was supposed to be that loud, and while Kagami had to admit to himself it sounded like the producer of the sound was pretty skilled, who in their right mind played guitar in a hotel at two in the morning? Grumbling to himself, he crossed his fingers, hoping the person next door would get their dumb ass thrown out for causing a disturbance, but considering the one-man concert or whatever had been going on for almost thirty minutes uninterrupted, he didn't think the likelihood of that happening was increasing any.

He rolled over, wondering halfheartedly if it would be possible to ignore it and sleep. He was tired; his limbs felt heavy as lead from going all out in the ruthless, gruelling game the day before, and his head was already pounding a protest to the persistent strumming filtering through the wall. He had another game in less than two days, which was why he was checked into this crappy hotel in the first place; he needed his rest, and his inconsiderate (though admittedly talented) neighbour seemed to be trying their hardest to keep him from it.

At last, the fraying thread of Kagami's patience snapped, and with a grit-out litany of curses, he rolled off the bed, not even taking the time to throw on a shirt. Almost tripping over his bag as he stumbled in the darkness to the door of the hotel room, he pushed past it and marched right over to the one adjacent to his.

Pounding on the door, he raised his voice in an irritated shout, "Hey, asshole! Shut the hell up or I'm calling the front desk to complain!"

The racket finally, finally ceased, and Kagami breathed a sigh of relief, but then he heard the click of a lock and the door his fist was still resting against swung open, causing him to stagger forward and all but collapse into the person's room. When he straightened, he was met with a pair of hooded dark eyes set into an equally dark face, shadowed by short fringes of darker hair, the glossy blue colour of the sheen on a raven's wing. The man was tall; a tiny bit taller than Kagami, even, wearing grey sweats and a loose tank top that did nothing to conceal long, firmly muscled arms, leading down to large hands; one of which held the door open while the other gripped the neck of the jet black guitar leaning idly against his leg.

White teeth showed starkly against that dusky face as the person grinned, those narrow, arrogant eyes roving unnervingly, and not just over Kagami's face, "Come again?" The voice that issued from his throat was smooth and dark, lilting with amusement and cocky rebellion.

Kagami swallowed, a little put off his stride by this stranger that hadn't stopped staring at him for a second since the door was opened, "I uh..." clearing his throat to cover for the response that wasn't as articulate as he would have liked, he made a harsh gesture in the direction of the instrument at the man's side, "You're being way too loud, some of us are trying to sleep." The explanation for his interruption seemed feeble to him now, strangely...it might have been the ringing silence that had followed the previous overabundance of noise, or it might have been the crooked grin that never left the stranger's lips, the ever-moving twilight blue eyes that Kagami swore were trying to devour him whole; he could feel that stare in his marrow.

"Really?" that husky voice dropped an octave, and the man's hand slid down on the neck of his guitar, caressing the silver strings with an audible squeak, drawing Kagami's attention to the thin cables leading away from it, plugged into the amp across the room, "Well, that is a problem, isn't it?"

Kagami couldn't figure out why he seemed so pleased about the whole situation, why that strange, knowing smile never wavered, and he kept sizing Kagami up like he was something to eat. He kind of wished he'd taken the extra two seconds to throw a shirt on before stomping over here, though; those penetrating eyes were making him a little self-conscious, and he could feel embarrassed heat gradually rising to his face.