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The dim lights of the backstage area of the Breaker Box flicker periodically, the faint buzz of the fluorescents barely audible beneath the distant chatter and music from the main area of the club.
Jean Loo is sitting on one of the shitty plastic chairs, feet kicked up on another one. He’s above this place, for sure. Jean Loo was on tour a month ago. An international tour. He was near top of the charts with his new album. He has hundreds of thousands of streams on his tracks.
But he grew up in this town. The open mic night at this shitty club that hasn’t changed in a decade is where he started out. Least he could do was a little guest appearance here, and, hey, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a sucker for nostalgia.
Still, the place sucked. It was the best club in town, sure, but it was a low bar. It sucked almost as much as whoever was on stage before him.
He could hear the guy singing from back here, the slightly off-key droning not dissimilar to those like Elvis. Usually, Jean Loo would laugh, amused by the poor talentless soul, but this was not the case. He was frustrated, because the guy WASN’T talentless.
Call Lil Crapper a narcissistic asshole all you want, but he has a soft spot for untapped potential. Beneath the flat notes and the wavering flow, there was a decent voice. Maybe the guy just lacked confidence, or practice, but it pissed Jean Loo off. This guy needs a slap in the face and someone telling him to take it seriously.
The dreadful song finishes, and he hears the faint booing and a small handful of claps from the crowd, and he almost feels bad for the guy. Almost.
“Jean Loo, you’re on in 5.” Eddie says dryly, deadpan as always as he lingers in the doorway.
“You could be a little more friendly to an old face, non?” He replies with a lopsided grin.
Eddie just narrows his eyes at Jean in scrutiny, before disappearing back into the hallway.
“And that is Lil Crapper to you, poser.” He mutters to himself, swinging his feet off the chair and back to the floor and pushing himself up.
He checks himself out in the mirror for a moment, adjusting his rings before dragging a hand through his blue-tipped hair. He winks at himself, flashing a sparkling smile, before hearing footsteps of someone approaching, not from the hall, but from the direction of the stage.
He turns, waiting expectantly to see who he assumes is flat tone no flow, amusement already building up inside him.
Although, that seems to dissipate when the tall, dark haired, pretty faced stranger turns the doorway.
They don’t make eye contact straight away. It’s long enough for Jean Loo to see the slight frown and knotted brow on that pretty face, before he catches Jean Loo’s eye and breaks into an easy smile, despite looking ever so slightly startled.
“Ah. Pardon me, I-“ The man starts, Jean Loo tilting his head in intrigue as to what exactly this guy has to be pardoned about. “Oh! You’re that rapper everyone’s been tellin’ me so much about.”
Jean Loo shamelessly studies the guy head to toe, not checking him out, more scrutinising, entirely wondering how he doesn’t know Lil Crappers name, and if he does, why he’s pretending not to.
“I am indeed.” He muses, stepping forward. “However, Lil’ Crapper prefers the term ‘crapping’.”
The guy blinks at him, batting long lashes, not in flirtation but in utter confusement. His brows draw together.
“Crapping?” He asks incredulous.
Jean Loo sighs, exasperated, annoyed that people are really so far behind the curve that he has to explain himself to them.
“Crapping, like Cool-rapping?” He gestures out with a hand like its obvious.
The mans mouth twitches up into a faint smile. “I don’t think people are interpretin’ that the way you want them too, darlin’.”
He scoffs, mildly frustrated now. Who does this guy think he is, patronising Lil Crapper like that? He can shove his southern pet names up his god damn ass.
“It is not Lil Crappers problem if people are simply too stupid to comprehend the extents of his genius.” He says pointedly, folding his arms over his chest.
The other man still looks vaguely amused, which is all but insulting to Jean Loo.
“Not that you would know anything about genius,” He raises a dry brow, glaring at him. “Your lyrical flow is, ah, how you say? Crap!” He spits. “And not the ‘Cool’ kind!”
The other man barely flinches, a ghost of a frown at his mouth, but something about his reaction tells Jean Loo that he is used to the criticism.
“Well, Mr Crapper, as much as I appreciate the criticism from an artist such as yourself, if ain’t constructive, then I suggest not sayin’ it at all.” He says easily, no real bite in his tone, as he steps forward, breezing past Jean Loo.
Something about this is somewhat intriguing to him. This stranger has the confidence, the passion, the voice of someone who could make it big. Just, maybe, lacked the technique.
Maybe thats why Jean Loo speaks again.
“You need to work on your pacing.” He says dryly, barely even turning around. “Your lines should be in time with one another, not, ah, creating a new tempo everytime, chere.”
He says it with his usual tone of disinterest to disguise that it is, in fact, actual advice.
The other man had paused as soon as Jean had spoken again, and now he was turned around fully, giving him this weird, wide eyed look.
He blinks, offering a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” He seems almost awkward. I mean, who wouldn’t in the presence of Lil Crappers pure, aching talent?
“Good.” He gives him one curt nod, before turning towards the exit leading to the stage. “Now. You have delayed Lil Crappers show long enough.”
Without another word, he disappeared into the darkness towards the stage, leaving the pretty-faced tone-deaf stranger backstage.
Volt, from on stage, spots him in the wing, shooting him a small look of impatience before flashing a smile back at the audience.
“We have quite the special guest tonight, live wires and gentlethings. Introducing to the stage, uh, Lil Crapper!” Volt announces with his usual charisma, as Jean Loo strides onto the stage.
The small crowd erupts, probably just due to someone of his fame and caliber being in their vicinity. It was nothing in comparison to the stadiums Jean Loo has filled out, but ego boosting nonetheless.
“Well, good evening, mon ami’s,” He smirks, taking the mic in his hand like it was made for it. “It is good to be back. You know, this is where Lil Crapper started out.”
He speaks to the audience with that air of easy confidence and French charm that is what so often leads to Jean Loo never having an empty bed the night after a show.
“Maybe that sheds some hope on our out of tune opener, huh?” He tilts his head as the crowd laughs.
He wonders if that guy’s still backstage, or maybe at the bar now having a drink, or maybe he’s fled the club out of embarrassment.
He realises he shouldn’t care, so he continues to just introduce his first song, or ‘crap’.
Jean Loo never gets stage fright. He owns the stage, basking in the spotlight, letting it seep into his already too big ego.
He knows he’s talented, too. Perhaps that is why he is so narcissistic. He prefers to think he just knows his worth.
He breezes through his set, receiving cheers and applause after every song, before he finishes off with one of his classics and says his farewell to the crowd with a final charming remark before departing the stage.
He returns backstage, where Volt is still lingering, talking to Eddie whose adorning his usual expression of distaste.
“Ah, Jean Loo!” Volt shoots him a smile, moving towards him. “Fantastic show.”
“Merci.” He replies with a dry grin, shaking his hand.
Back when Jean Loo was first starting out, in his Holy Crap days, Eddie ran the Breaker Box alone. Back then, Eddie was a little easier to talk to, as well, but maybe he’s so grumpy these days because he’s totally into his predecessor/new co owner who flirts with every patron they have. Jean Loo has an eye for these things, you see, the French are true romantics.
“You’ve really improved.” Eddie says with a dry smirk, clearly amused by himself.
“Ah, Jean Loo is no longer a 20 something amateur any more.” He grins, waving a dismissive hand.
“Can we get you a drink?” Volt asks politely, though the question is more ‘can Eddie get you a drink?’.
“A martini would be just fine, cheri.” He smiles, but its sharp and vaguely amused and Eddie rolls his eyes, muttering something to himself as he leaves the room.
Volt heads back towards the stage to close out the show, and Jean Loo is left alone in the backstage room. He retrieves his jacket, the big white puffy one thats pristine, not a spec of dirt, and pulls it on over his bare shoulders, over the low cut blue vest that barely covers his chest and the chains that hang over his collarbone.
He follows the direction Eddie went in, emerging into the main area of the club, dropping his sunglasses over his eyes as he enters the loud chatter and clinking glasses of the pact out club.
He attempts to make his way to the bar, but gets stopped at least 3 times for an autograph or a selfie, which he doesn’t mind, not one bit. He is always happy to receive the attention of his adoring fans.
By the time he does reach the bar, Eddie gives him an unimpressed look and slides a martini towards him. Jean Loo doesn’t say anything, just shoots him a smooth wink.
He takes a sip and surveys his surroundings. He’s not scouting, per se. Just… investing possible opportunities of the rest of his evening.
However, he spots the guy from before, still in that white figure hugging suit, just minus the cape now, his black curls falling over his face as he talks animatedly to a flamboyant looking man with wild pink-ish hair, a small scarf around his neck and a full face of make up.
Jean Loo stands up out of utter boredom, he tells himself, and makes his way over to them. Make-up guy spots him first, narrowing his eyes initially, as the other guy follows his eyeline, and flashes an incredibly charming smile, which allows Jean Loo to notice the man has dimples.
“Utterly Fabulous show, might I say.” Pink-hair guy flashes him a dazzling smile, but Jean Loo can tell that he doesn’t seem like the type to really listen to his music at all.
“Merci, mon ami.” Jean Loo replies friendly enough, though if he is honest he is not at all interested in this guy.
“I’d have to agree.” Pretty-face guy adds, still smiling at him like an idiot. “While uh, not my kinda music, talent recognises talent.”
Jean Loo hesitates for a moment. The urge to destroy this guy for calling himself talent crawls under his skin. He could even make a bar out of it.
But he doesn’t, which is unusual for him. He plasters on a half hearted grin.
“Means a lot coming from you, cheri.” He tilts his head, being sarcastic but in a more lighthearted way, rather than a verbal attack.
The other guy huffs a laugh, blue eyes sparkling slightly in the dim light, as he leans back on the bar, drink swirling in his hand.
“What’re you drinkin’, darlin’?” The man nods towards the martini in Jeans hand that is very obviously a martini. “Maybe you could give me some more of that expert advice over a drink?”
Jean raises a brow at him, somewhat bewildered by this guy still being nice to him.
“Johnny-“ Pink haired guy starts, but the other man, Johnny, holds up a hand.
“Barry was just leavin’.” He says easily. “Weren’t you, gorgeous?” He raises his brows at Barry, who just huffs and gives Johnny an unreadable look before turning and walking away.
With that, Johnnys attention was turned back to Jean Loo.
“Come on, take a seat.” Johnny lightly pats the bar stool next to him. “I won’t bite.”
It occurs to Jean Loo then that he is, in fact, being flirted with. Jean Loo is no stranger to flirtation, to the point he is desensitised to it. It is like a game to him, a back and forth of saying the right thing, almost like a rap battle except the reward is getting to take your opponent home.
Jean Loo does sit. He leans an arm on the bar and rests his head in his hand, looking at Johnny in the way he does that makes people feel like he's looking straight through them.
“Jean Loo is a busy man, you know.” He says, voice lacking its usual beat, instead low and smooth. “You are lucky he has a passion for sharing his musical wisdom.” He grins, and Johnny just raises a vaguely amused brow at him.
“That so?”
Undetered, although unsure of when he became invested in this challenge, Jean loo nods once.
“And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” He asks, studying Johnny. “Did not catch your name, mon cheri.”
“Johnny.” He confirms, all but batting his eyes at Jean Loo. “Johnny Splash.”
Jean Loo’s grin widens. “Nice to put a name to that pretty face.” He says before he can stop himself, and Johnny huffs a laugh, turning towards the bar, but Jean Loo can see the faint pink of his cheeks. “And, ah, the voice.” He adds, not distasteful but teasing.
Johnny actually laughs then, and gives him a slightly deflated look, smile heavier than before. Something strange happens to Jean Loo then, its almost as though he feels… bad.
“Everybody keeps tellin’ me I gotta work on my singin’, you know, oil my pipes, or just give up.” He says, but he doesn’t sound hurt, just continuing that usual upbeat tone. “But singin’? It’s my passion. And I know I can be good.”
He looks away wistfully, and Jean Loo half expects the spotlight from the stage to shine down on him and for him to break into song. Man, this guy is a character.
He furrows his brows for a second, before sighing. “Jean Loo is not telling you you can not be. In fact, he believes you can be.” He says dismissively, ignoring the way Johnny looks back at him with those blue eyes. “Your voice is not the problem, cheri. It is your technique that needs… tweeking.”
Johnny blinks at him. “You think so?”
Jean Loo almost physically groans. He already regrets this. This isn’t even flirting anymore, it’s just him being nice.
“You write all your own songs?” He sighs.
Johnny flashes a wide grin. “I do indeed. I pour my little heart out into my lyrics, you see. I’m inspired by everythin’ around me. Even wrote a song about my ol’ hounddog Duke.”
Jean Loo narrows his eyes. He did not ask, nor does he care. Although, despite Johnny’s songs being absolute trash, it’s endearing to see someone so passionate about actually song writing. Jean knows a lot of people in his industry these days that AI generate their songs.
“Have you tried… not singing your own songs?” He suggests dryly, and for a split second, Johnny looks a fraction hurt.
“Not that there's anything wrong with your writing, eh… just that singing other songs gives you a flow to follow, you see?” He adds quickly, not entirely sure why he cares about hurting this guy's feelings. Maybe because he doesn’t want Johnny to look at him with those puppy dog eyes anymore.
And he doesn’t. Johnny's eyes brighten up and he nods, a smile flickering back onto his face, seemingly delighted for some actual constructive criticism. Honestly? It’s refreshing. If someone tried to offer Jean Loo ‘constructive criticism’, he would simply punch them in the face. Although, that is because he is already the best.
“So what’d you reckon I should sing?” He asks. Jean Loo scoffs.
“I don’t know. Whatever suits you.” He waves a hand, bringing his glass to his mouth. “Elvis, or something.” He side glances the obviously elvis inspired get up.
“Oh, honey, I love me some Elvis! That I can do.” Johnny stands suddenly, entirely too enthusiastic.
He turns towards the club, and disappears into the crowd without giving Jean Loo a second glance.
Utterly bewhildered, he just shrugs, turning back to his martini.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Eddie grumbles from behind the bar. Jean just looks at him from over his glass, not answering.
“Oh, god damn it, he’s trying to get back on stage again.” He groans. “Dorian!” Eddie yells, turning towards the entrance of the club where a tall, brunette man is standing, utterly composed and intimidating.
“Get Johnny, will ya?” Eddie calls over exasperated.
Dorian huffs, slightly annoyed but not surprised in the slightest, before disappearing into the crowd. Jean Loo turns back to Eddie with a raised brow.
“He do that a lot?” He asks, slightly amused. Eddie rubs his temples.
“I don’t know why we keep lettin’ him come back.” He mutters, and Jean Loo snorts a laugh.
“Sure seems like a peculiar character.” He raises his glass to his lips, and Eddie gives him a dry look.
“So are you.”
Jean Loo frowns. Jean Loo is not peculiar. Jean Loo is awesome.
Before he can spit a rebuttal, he is distracted by the voices behind. He spins back around to see Dorian with his arm around Johnny Splash’s waist, pulling him down from where he was trying to clamber back on the stage.
Johnny is shouting something dramatically he can’t quite hear over the chatter of the disturbed patrons around him, and Dorian just looks disappointed.
Jean Loo watches from the bar as Dorian guides Johnny back towards the bar, hands on his shoulders.
“The people, Dorian! They need an encore!” Johnny’s saying, talking with his hands flailing.
“No we don’t!” Someone calls from the crowd. Jean Loo finds this very funny.
“Alright, Splash. You can give ‘em one tomorrow.” Dorian sighs, voice low and rough.
Johnny practically pouts as he’s steered back to the bar, and Jean Loo looks wildly amused.
“Want me to kick ‘im out, Watts?” Dorian raises a brow, hands still on Johnny’s shoulders.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Eddie waves a hand thats currently holding a rag. “He won’t do it again. Will you Johnny?” He asks pointedly at Johnny.
Johnny shakes his head defeatedly.
Eddie and Dorian exchange a curt nod as Dorian heads back over to the door, and Johnny slips back onto the barstool.
“Stardom waits for nobody.” He mutters to himself as he settles, resting his elbows on the bar.
“You know, Jean Loo did not mean right now.” Jean Loo says, smirk audible in his tone.
Johnny glances at him finally, seemingly unashamed, just slightly annoyed.
“And… tomorrow? You play here every night?” Jean Loo tilts his head, eyes glimmering in amusement.
“No, not every night,” Johnny shakes his head, falling too easily back into normal conversation after that fiasco. “Just weekends. And Fridays. And sometimes midweek if Amir pulls out.”
Jean Loo snorts a laugh.
“I am surprised you still get a crowd.” Jean Loo muses, picking his drink back up and swirling the remaining liquid around in it, though keeping his eye on Johnny.
He narrows his eyes slightly, head at an angle where those jet black curls are falling softly in his eye, a small grin still tugging at his lips.
“You’re lucky I'm sweet on you, darlin’, or I wouldn’t be still sittin’ here entertainin’ you after all this insultin’ you’re doing.” He drawls, grin slowly growing as he speaks, staring straight back at Jean Loo with a sparkle in those blue eyes.
Oh.
Johnny’s different from the usual people Jean Loo Pissoir gets flirting with him. For starters, he’s a guy. Now, Jean Loo is not picky, but on his side of the music industry, it is… rather straight dominated. That is fine with him. He is happy with a girl. Or two. Even three, once.
And for second, Johnny seems disinterested in Lil Crappers music, or his money, hell, even his fame. Jean Loo hasn’t even been trying to flirt with him or win him over, despite his handsome face and pretty eyes, if anything, Jean Loo has been rude, as per usual. Johnny hardly seems phased though. Maybe he’s just simply too naive, or maybe he actually just doesn’t care.
Jean Loo lets out a slow, amused exhale, finger circling the rim of his glass, entirely considering how far to take this.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, chere.” He offers a small smirk, finally taking a sip of his drink.
“Is that some more of your genius advice?” Johnny asks, half-teasing, leaning in ever so slightly.
Jean Loo notices now that Johnny Splash smells amazing. Clean, with a hint of something floral. His dark ringlet curls look soft and perfectly smooth, and his pale skin peppered with freckles looks equally soft.
Jean Loo probably smells like cheap cologne and sweat. He says its his natural pheromones. That it adds to the charm.
He huffs a small laugh, grinning with the rim of his glass still at his lips.
“Not only for the music industry, beau, but for if you want to end your night in Jean Loos bedroom.” He mutters boldly, watching closely as Johnnys face turns a new shade of pink.
Johnny’s smile wavers, and he shakes his head a little.
“Boy, you’re awful bold.” He offers, sheepish smile on his face.
Jean Loo shrugs, amused. “I have been told.”
Johnny studies him, gaze becoming more sure and steady.
“I’m afraid I ain’t that easy, though, gorgeous.” He chews his lip, and Jean Loo feels something similar to disappointment.
“Say, if I see you here again tomorrow night, maybe I will be.” Johnny says, pushing himself up from the bar stool and standing, making Jean Loo look up at him. Even if Jean wasn’t sat down, he’d still have to look up. The guys real tall.
“Maybe Jean Loo will take you up on that.” His grin widens wolfishly, and Johnny just shoots him a week before turning on his heel and walking away, towards Dorian.
“Wait- Johnny!” Eddie spins round behind the bar from where he was mixing some drink. He sighs, turning to Jean Loo. “He was supposed to grab the tips from tonight before leaving.”
Jean Loo scoffs. “He makes money doing this?”
Eddie shrugs. “Mostly pity tips.” He pours the drink and slides it over to Tony, an old regular that Jean Loo is more than familiar with. “Too busy flirtin’ though, apparently.” Eddie finishes, wiping his hand on a rag.
Jean Loo barks a laugh, sliding Eddie his empty glass. “Oui, why was he flirting with me? Lil Crapper was hardly entertaining him.”
Eddie gives him a pointed look. “I don’t know, man. He’s a bit of a flirt with most people. Probably should warn him away from you, though.”
“Man, you are a real asshole, you know?” Jean Loo says dryly, standing. “It is no surprise that Volt deals with the customers.”
Eddie shoots him a glare before Jean Loo turns and walks away. He pushes past a few people, past Dorian, and into the cool night, where he pulls his pack from his pocket and brings a cigarette to his lips.
Sure, he could stay a while, score some other ass to take home with him, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by that perfect hair and sharp jaw and figure hugging white suit.
He takes a slow drag. Damn. He really is considering coming back to this shit hole tomorrow.
Here he is. Back in this shithole. He’s not even performing, yet here he is.
“Why are you here?” Eddie asks dryly from behind the bar.
“Apparently Lil Crapper has nothing better to do than hang around in this crappy bar.” He sighs, taking the whiskey sour that Eddie slides across the bar for him.
“Doesn’t that mean the bars cool?” He asks, lacking even a hint of enthusiasm.
Jean Loo shoots him a look of distaste. “No. It means this place is a shithole.”
“This place made you, kid.” Eddie huffs, a certain bite in his tone.
“Lil Crapper knows this.” Jean sighs, taking a long sip. “He supposes it does have a certain charm.”
Eddie shakes his head, and turns to serve another customer.
The lights dim, and for a second no ones sure if its on purpose but its another one of the bars power fluctuations. But then the spotlight flicks onto the stage, illuminating Volt's white hair.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome back to the best club in town. For tonight's show, you’ve guessed it, it’s our one and only Johnny Splash returning to us for a few songs.” Volt announces with his usual easy charisma, smiling at the crowd like he’s born to be in front of one.
However, there’s a few groans from the crowd. He supposes that the regulars here are used to sitting through a few minutes of singing that sounds more like a strangled cat, that its worth it for the other performances and the good drinks.
“Please give him a warm welcome to the stage.” Volt continues, though it does sound like more of a genuine please for even a handful of people to clap.
Volt descends the stage, and out comes Johnny Splash, tall frame in that white suit, unbuttoned enough to expose pale chest, now with a cape around his shoulders as well. The jewels on the collar sparkle beneath the light, and theres a sheen to his jet black ringlet curls that make them seem somehow more alive.
He smiles, wide and boyish, and Jean can’t tell if he doesn’t comprehend the fact that no one enjoys his music or he simply just doesn’t care.
“Why, hello everybody.” He says cheerfully, grabbing the mic with complete confidence. “Now, uh, I know I usually treat you to my own special songs from the heart, but… I’ve been practicin’ a song from one of my heroes, so if you don’t mind, I'd like to sing that for you folks tonight.”
Damn. He actually took Jean Loos advice. Well, off course he did. Lil Crapper gives the best advice.
Johnny’s smile flickers into something sheepish for a moment, a glimpse of nerves thats refreshingly human.
“This is ‘Love Me’ by Elvis Presley.” He mutters, leaning into the microphone and letting out a deep breath, eyes flicking to the floor for a moment.
The entire club is silent for a beat in apprehension for the flat tones and off pace flow that warbles like a dying cat. Jean Loo has an amused grin prepared on his face, excited to watch this show from the crowd instead of backstage tonight. This should be fun.
But then, Johnny sings the opening line. ‘Treat me like a fool’.
And Jean Loos smile falters immediately.
It wasn’t flat. It was on key. And with the support of an already laid out flow and rhythm for Johnny to adhere to, it actually displayed the fact that his voice itself was never the issue. In fact, he actually had a great voice.
Johnny’s eyes are closed and hes leaning over the mic like he’s slow dancing with it, and theres a ghost of a smile on his lips like he knows he’s doing a good job, and, god damn it it’s attractive.
“Holy shit…” Eddie breaths from behind the bar.
Jean Loo is a sucker for good music. Music truly is the way to his heart. Though he prefers fast-paced bars of rhyme, he can appreciate the slower stuff. And, by god, he can appreciate this. Theres something about the stunned silence of the rest of the club and the quiet confidence of the handsome man on stage that has allowed a strange warm feeling to sneak into his chest.
Johnnys voice was good. It sounded amazing singing this song. Sure, his vibrato could use a little work, but with the stability of an established lyrical flow and tune, he’s truly wonderful to listen to.
Jean Loo takes another sip of his whiskey sour to disguise the warmth in his chest, swallowing hard. If he tore his eyes away from Johnny, he’s sure he’d see Dorian and Eddie giving each other a look from across the club, but he doesn’t. His eyes don’t leave Johnny for a single second.
This is rewarded when Johnny cracks his eyes open and meets Jean Loos gaze from the stage. Annoyingly, Jean Loo feels his heart rise to his throat.
Pah, Lil Crapper does not catch feelings with this ease. He is simply… admiring the musical talent.
The 3 minutes is over a lot sooner than Jean Loo would’ve liked, which is a stupid feeling to have. Why would he want to listen to this, he doesn’t even like Elvis in the first place?
Johnny lingers for a moment, smiling, microphone still leaning, before he straightens up, looking down at the club with bright blue eyes.
It’s after this beat that Johnny opens his mouth to speak, but the crowd beat him to it.
The patrons of the club erupt into applause, a few shrill wolf whistles echoing out, and a handful of whoops and cheers. There’s even a red rose thrown onto the stage, and someone yells ‘Yes, Johnny!’.
Johnny beams, eyes glittering, posture stiffening in pure joy.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you, darlin’s, truly.” Johnny says brightly, taking a deep bow and scooping up the rose from the ground, holding it to his chest.
“Well, I… I haven’t planned another song to sing for y’all tonight but… oh, I can hardly contain myself!” He says giddily. “I’ll have another one for y’all tomorrow night!”
Theres a small ripple of applause, and Johnny looks overjoyed.
“Goodnight for now, folks!” He grins, before turning and walking off the stage, waving as he goes, applause kickstarting again.
With that, Jean Loo downs the rest of his drink and leaves it on the bar with a faint clank, before pushing into the crowd and making his way backstage.
He walks through the empty, dark halls with flickering lights, his utter astonishment carried with him.
He enters the backstage area, where he watches Volt head back towards the stage, hand lingering on Johnnys shoulder for a moment before disappearing into the wing. Johnnys left standing there grinning to himself, before he spots Jean Loo.
“Cheri, that was incroyable.” Jean Loo breathes, voice lacking its usual disinterested tone. He quickly attempts to cover up this moment of weakness, clearing his throat. “It was, uh-“
But before he can finish his sentence, spouting off something that it was such a great improvement due to his own advice, Johnny Splash had closed the distance between them.
Johnnys hands cup his jaw in a firm gesture, as he presses his lips to Jean Loos. It wasn’t soft, it was quick and messy, and filled with passion, maybe not for Jean but for the performance of doing what he loves finally being celebrated.
Jean Loo freezes, making a small surprised noise into the kiss. He barely has time to kiss back before Johnny’s pulled away.
“Ah, I beg your pardon.” Johnny smiles sheepishly, hands hovering over Jeans face but no longer touching. “See, I'm riled up as a firecracker on the fourth of July and I-“
This time its Johnny that gets cut off. Jean Loo surges forward, with one firm hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, and they’re kissing it again.
Johnny barely hesitates before relaxing into it. One hand comes to rest on the side of Jean Loos face, the other falling down and landing on his waist.
Merde, this was stupid. But Johnny was handsome and he was talented and Jean Loo had helped him and it made him feel fantastic about himself. And Johnny’s hair is soft and he smells good and his lips are incredibly soft too, and he tastes fresh, and Jean Loo doesn’t half mind that he’s not that much of a good kisser.
He carefully guides Johnny back, taking slow steps, expecting to hit a wall and push him up against it, but instead something its the back of Johnnys knees, and there’s a sudden vacancy in the spot where he just was.
Jean Loo opens his eyes to see they have, in fact, hit the small, uncomfortable couch thats in the backstage room instead of a wall. And now Johnny Splash was sprawled in it, dark curls wild, and deep blue eyes half lidded looking up at him.
Oh, crap (the shit kind, not the cool rapping kind). Jean Loos brain spurs for a second, the cogs turning in attempt to figure out what his next move is. There is no way in a million years Lil Crapper is crawling into this guys lap like some desperate little-
Johnnys hands are at his hips, tugging him forward, suddenly emboldened, probably by his first ever successful performance.
Jean Loo feels hear rise to his face, his dignity kicking up deep in his core. But, fuck it. Guess he’s doing this. That whiskey sour must've been strong.
He lifts his knees and plants them firmly either side of Johnnys lap one by one. He doesn’t lower himself completely into Johnnys lap, just hovers above him, hands braced on the back of the couch.
His mouth finds Johnny’s again, and its messy and hardly even good but it feels good, and his tongue flicks between Johnnys lips which results in him letting out a small whine in the back of his throat.
One of Jean Loos hands tangle in those dark curls, while he’s thinking to himself this is fine. This is fine. Lil Crapper is not in the lap in another man, no, he is too dignified for that. He does not sit on people, people sit on him!
He is still technically on top in this position, no? He is very much in control and very much dignified and oh, Johnnys hand just trailed down from his waist to lower on his hip.
Jean doesn’t even break the kiss for a second as he takes both his arms away and smoothly slips out of his white jacket, letting it drop to the floor. That jacket is very expensive. Designer. He should probably take better care of it.
That leaves him with the blue vest he wears beneath, and his bare, tattooed shoulders and bare chest that's decorated with chains. His hands come back to Johnnys neck, his hair, his perfect jaw.
Johnnys hands almost timidly clutch at the fabric of his vest, slipping lower for his thumbs to trace the level of his belt.
Jean Loo lets out a low growl as his tongue is pushing into Johnnys mouth, and he shifts his legs, planting one knee between Johnnys thighs and pushing up with it.
A soft noise escapes Johnny then, and his hands slide up and gently push at Jeans chest.
“I… I don’t think it’d be the smartest to continue this here.” He says quietly with a small, sheepish smile, looking up at him with those wide blue eyes.
“Then would I have the pleasure of having tonights star accompany me home?” Jean cracks a wolfish grin, holding Johnnys jaw tilted up with a thumb.
Johnny’s cheeks go a new shade of pink, and his gaze flickers away, grin growing.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, gorgeous.” He muses softly, catching Jean Loos mouth again in a kiss before carefully guiding him off his lap.
That night, they do go back to Jean Loos hotel where he’s staying here in his home town at the minute instead of his fancy penthouse in LA, although the hotel room itself is nicer than where Johnny lives.
When they’d left the bar, Eddie had given then a bizarre look as volt nudged him in the side, and Dorian had raised a curious brow at them, which was an expression akin to shock from the stoic man.
They’d initially been making out on the couch, side by side this time, which made Jean Loo feel more at ease, until Johnny pushed forward carefully, laying Jean down on his back on the couch, and climbed over him.
He opened his mouth to protest but it was smothered by a messy kiss.
His finally chance to turn things around was the bedroom, but all it took was Johnnys gentle hands on his waist and a small whisper of something sweet with a ‘Darlin’ sprinkled in, and before he knew it, world famous rapper Lil Crapper was being bent over on his bed.
Johnny was… inexperienced, to say the least. But he was gentle and sweet, with his words and hands, atleast, not so much the rest of his body. To be fair to him, Jean Loo was not too experienced in the realm of being on the receiving end of things, although he is an expert in the delivering (do not ask anyone who knows him to verify this).
This is probably why Lil Crappers infamous ego and narcissistic confidence was somehow broken down as his grip tightened on the sheets and pathetic, choked noises escape his throat, thighs trembling as Johnnys grip tightened on his waist, hips jittering in an uneven pace but driving deep in, thumb tracing gentle circles on Jeans ass as he mutters rambling to himself, quiet praises and timid questions of ‘like this, gorgeous? You like this?’, genuine interest in doing the right thing that Jean couldn’t reply to other than a broken yes and a curse under his breath.
It was unbelievable hot hearing good boy Johnny Splash spit out dirty curses as he came.
After that, it took a while for Jean Loo to recover. Not only physically, but emotionally as well.
He was never one for relationships. He believed there is no one who is a match for Lil Crapper, no one who could possibly be good enough to capture the attention of his heart.
But he kept seeing Johnny Splash. Maybe because he quite liked the sex and was rather embarrassed to admit that to any new potential suiters, and Johnny is too genuinely kind to judge Jean Loo for it. Maybe because he likes that he can teach Johnny things, not only in the bedroom but in the musical scene. Johnny had the talent, just not the technique. Luckily for him, Jean had both.
He ended up taking Johnny to LA with him, and the man was wide eyed with awe and incredibly naive with everyone he met, and he seemed so amazed by all of it, and like this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Jean found it somewhat endearing. Sometimes he takes for granted his adoring fans and his fame and his money and the life that comes with that. Johnny is a reminder of where he started.
Actually, Jean Loo would rather not remember where he started. He was a big stinking loser. People should only know him as the cool and awesome Lil Crapper.
Nonetheless, Johnny would sing in the shower, off key and slightly wavering, but utterly passionate and sung with the confidence of someone who thinks they sound like Frank Sinatra.
And Jean would sit there and listen. And He’d like it.
Eventually, Johnny had gone and done some big confession of his apparent undying love for Jean Loo, which Jean finds incredibly hard to believe to be true, and is also utterly put off by the dramatics of it all. He recalls calling Johnny a ‘wet loser’ and telling him to get off his knees.
He hadn’t said no, though.
So now egotistical, insufferable, narcissistic rapper Lil Crapper has a hopeless romantic, naive, painfully oblivious and shamelessly embarrassing boyfriend.
A boyfriend whose sweet to him and holds his hand in public and kisses his cheek and calls him a different pet name in every sentence and seems genuinely happy to see Jean Loo.
Jean pretends to hate it all, claims he has an image to uphold and he will not fall for all this sappy bullcrap and no, he’s not wearing that ugly jacket because Lil Crapper has multiple designer jackets so why would he want to wear that old letterman? Crétin.
But he shows his affections through his support and actions despite his words and lack of physical affection. He supports Johnnys dream more than anyone ever had, and Johnny looks at him like he’s aligned the stars.
Johnny claims that Jean is his muse, that he could simply write a whole album just inspired by his love for Jean Loo.
Jean says that would be ridiculous, unless it is a collab album, then Lil Crapper will happily hop on a track or two. As long as the revenue is fairly divided.
But Johnny is not put off by Jeans standoffish exterior, not at all. The sharp sarcasm hardly phases him at all. Perhaps its because late at night Jean curls an arm around his waist and tells him to ‘have sweet dreams, cheri.’, that under all that crapping, (cool-rapping variety), he really is just a sweetheart.
They’re happy. In their own, strange way, they’re happy.