The Dictator's Circus

Cue house lights.


AGITATOR.

The dictator was off the podium and the people were cheering.

He rushed the stage front with a magnified tenor, gracefully shaped painted fingers above his head, asking for more. The dictator’s painted eye glinted. This harlequin held everyone helpless in his hands.

Aiji, pounding rhythmically against his set of strings, felt himself resting reluctantly in the pocket of Kirito’s palm, just like everyone else. The makeup should have been reversed. Aiji was the clown here. Aiji felt his white painted face caressed for the amusement of millions.

The harlequin’s eye gleamed.


HAKEN KREUZ.

Takeo, five o’clock.

Kohta, four o’clock.

Jun, three o’clock. Three Four Five. What did Three get out of his? The harlequin didn’t exactly keep his palms off, like he did Four and Five.

Three o’clock knew all the secrets. Knew reactions, advances, and the people cheered. Three was comfortable in the palm’s embrace, and the people cheered.

Aiji kept his clown face smiling in front of the crowd. People. Cheered.


ICAROSS.

The clown’s contribution, a honking horn and big red shoes for five bucks a party.

It was all a display. The harlequin was finished with Three, and in a few songs he would move on to his clown. Empty touches. Everything rehearsed. Aiji barely even felt it anymore.

Did three o’clock feel? What thoughts plagued Four and Five. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything. Everything simply played out by rote. Mindless.

The song, churned out as if during practice, like any other.


Clear Sky.

Verse One. Chorus. Verse Two. Chorus.

Bridge.

Solo.

The harlequin turned towards him, one hundred sixty degrees. Four paces forward. A mischievous smile. Three more paces.

The clown stared intently. Moved fingers automatically over frets. Waited.

Touch. Unbutton. Unbutton. Head to the right, two inches. Hot breath. Caress in three, two, one... chin to neck, neck to chest. Button. Breath. Kiss. Hold, three, two, one. Break.


CHILD.

Aiji saw a thousand painted faces, a thousand pairs of eyes that watched. The people cheered, seeing everything. Three and Four and Five played on, knowing everything.


MAD SKY ~goutetsu no MESHIA~.

As the harlequin passed close by, Aiji felt his heat. Felt.

The sweat dripped off Kirito’s face at every angle, running in rivulets over those carefully painted cheeks. Tone-coloured rivers made their way to black vinyl, pooled in its crevices, left tracks of bare skin.

At the start of the instrumental break, Kirito unhooked the microphone from its stand and swirled in a circle, sending drops flying.

One landed on the forehead of the clown and dripped whitely to his eyes. Streaked.


Last Letter.

Aiji could feel the exhaustion of the band, the crowd, the stage techs - but the clown tried to smile. The clown played.

Easy to see the harlequin was tired. Movements not quite so deliberate. Yet he went on. He catered, standing on speakers, jumping off, turning back to the stage, walking up to Aiji - coming closer -

What the fuck... ?

Kirito, Aiji tried to say. Um, this isn’t a fanservice song - what are you doing -

The harlequin’s eye flashed something.

Frightened. Nothing practiced. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Makeup-flavoured lips engulfed him.

Three, two, one... one... one... ONE?

The taste of sweat. Saliva. Lipstick.

Aiji felt the clown slipping away as his mouth opened. People cheered, but they were just people who couldn’t feel this. Three Four Five looks from the band. Confused looks.

The clown wasn’t playing. The song had ended. But he had no idea when this would. No idea.


CREATURE.

The finale. Fatigue was palpable.

Aiji licked his lips, still tonguing Kirito’s taste. The holder of said flavour looked at him. Any makeup was hopelessly washed out at this point. The painted eye was intact, however, and it was gleaming.

The harlequin smiled.

The clown’s eyes widened as he smiled right back.

Another unseen something made its way between them.


Cue House Lights.


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