Fun-Sized Men (GazettE fanfic)

Self Esteem Demons

I can't believe the day is here. For just aboutI year I've been waiting for this day. Today was my first meet and greet, andlive attendance of the GazettE. Several times since waking, I've cried with joywhen I remembered what today is. I arrived at the store front and was so happyto see the throng of Six Guns already in the lot at 7 am this morning; some hadbeen there at 5am to claim their spot. The meet and greet would begin when thestore opened at 9. Hopefully the two hours allotted would allow all the fans achance to exchange time with the Band. As we all queued up outside the sense of excitement grew with theincreasing size of the crowd.

When the doors opened, there was a sudden cheer and push forward as we flowed inward. Waiting in line, slowly making my way toward the doors, I keep my eyes glued forward. Up ahead, on tiptoes several of us try to peer over the posters in the window to catch a glimpse inside. Excited shouts and squeals erupt sporadically when a fan made a successful sighting. The news delivered this way delighted us all: "He's wearing purple velvet today!" and, "Reita's noseband matches!"

Approaching the store's foyer, my sights are fixed on spying through the throng at the five Japanese fun sized men up ahead. I don't think I've blinked or stopped smiling since I woke up. And certainly the butterflies haven't stopped once since I woke and readied myself. Very carefully I did my own hair; my personal version of a blow-out. I liked my natural waves, but when I wanted to boost my confidence, I used my favorite soft-wax, blow dryer and round brush to create cascading curves. I liked how this easy style accentuated the silver in my milk-chocolate hair. The wax made it super soft, too. My youngest daughter called it "foofy hair".

Hair-done and make-up did, I chose to wear my well-worn Sex Pistols "bodies" t-shirt, in honor of the song that first caught Ruki's ear. When I put it on this morning, I was very glad when I was a teen making the purchase, I chose the largest size possible; as "big baggy shirts" was de rigueur. If I hadn't, there was little chance it would have fit me now, 32 years later. My go-to mom jeans and plaid converse platform wedges made the outfit look mature but youthful- I hoped. After cuffing the bottoms just a little, I laughed a little at myself in the mirror as I surveyed the ensemble, turning from side to side. "Mom jeans" I snickered. They fit and they were comfortable and the length of the shirt hid the fact they were, indeed, mom-jeans. "Fuck it" I said to my reflection, "You ARE a Mom". My favorite black leather blazer, now vintage-worn on the elbows and cuffs was layered over and I pushed up the sleeves to show off the bangles and beads on my wrists. Satisfied with the look I began reciting my Japanese monologue for the countless time. I hoped I had it translated right. I deeply hoped I wouldn't choke if and when I had a chance to recite my heart aloud to THEM at the meet and greet today. Would they laugh at my poor grammar or any mispronunciation?

Fighting panic attacks with every inch forward of the line, I felt all the emotions of the rainbow. Queued up with the crush of fans, these flashing myriad of feelings were only slightly subdued with my effort to not wig-out. As I slowly moved beyond the foyer, and into the store proper, a sense of awe, calm and utter love came over me as I took it all in.

The buzz of the fans' voices, the colors of the costumes we all wore; the hum of the LP playing over the store's PA all blended into a feeling of positive energy and togetherness. We Are Here With the Band. We Are One.

My reverie was popped when a small nudge on my shoulder alerted me to move up. I smiled a red-cheeked "sorry" and quickly closed the gap. As my eyes regained their front-facing stare, I let out a tiny gasp "I'm so close now!"

Carefully, I examined the behavior of the band towards each fan. With what I hoped was accurate body-language analysis, I believed they were in good spirits; each member quietly engaging each fan without exhibiting outward signs of "hurry up". This quickened the butterflies as I realized this meant I may have a shot at reciting to Ruki in Japanese what I spent months translating and practicing; what I yearned to say what I needed them to know. Oh lord, please keep me from blunder I whispered a silent prayer to myself. All the arrays of fears flooded me and I fought away, hard, the urge to give up forget it all and just make do with autographs.