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harley-sunday · 3 years

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Encore [01]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.4k

AN: So, here it is, the re-write of Encore. For those of you who have read it when it was first published, there are some subtle changes in this first part, but the real fun doesn’t start until part 2, which will be online tomorrow. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

Cursing quietly you set out in a jog, one hand holding your purse close to your body while the other is clutching the double espresso that made you late in the first place. You make a mental note to check if they’ve replaced the coffee machine in your hotel room when you get back tonight, because you really don't want to go on another early-morning Starbucks run tomorrow in case they haven’t.

Still, you’re parked relatively closeby and so it’s only a short run to the double doors which you all but burst through, coming to a sudden stop when there are two people in your way who look like they’ve been waiting for you. They introduce themselves as part of the crew and help you with your microphone, telling you to keep it on as much as possible and not to forget to hand it back at the end of every day. You only half listen because all of a sudden the familiarity of the place hits you and you’re surprised to see nothing has changed, not really anyway. It’s almost like time has stood still and the sense of melancholy that washes over you makes you a little weak in the knees.

There’s no time to reminisce any further though, because once your mic is in place they tell you everyone else is already here and waiting for you in the theater room, and so you’re off again, running towards the other end of Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School for the first time in eighteen years.

You’re a little out of breath when you get there and want to allow yourself a moment to catch it again, maybe calm your nerves a little, but you know they’re waiting for you and so you take one last deep breath and open the door.

There’s a group of nine people on the stage who, like you, are the show’s main cast. They’re all talking to each other amicably and you wonder if they’ve kept in touch all these years. One by one they turn to you as you make your way towards the front and it does absolutely nothing to calm your nerves. Some of them look surprised to see you and you don’t blame them, because once you left Sudbury after graduating high school you had no intention of ever coming back and so you cut ties rather vigorously.

Two of the four cameras that are spread out across the room are now trained on you, but you try your hardest to act natural, because that’s what it said in the production brief they sent you last week, and so instead you try to focus on the people you haven’t seen for so long.

It’s Nicole Matthews who greets you first, running towards you as you walk on stage. She presses a kiss to your cheek before she gives you a hug, a quiet, “So glad you made it, babe,” whispered into your ear. You hang on to her just a little longer because now that you’re finally getting to hug your best friend again for the first time in eighteen years it’s hard to let go.

After Nicole you make your way down the line at a steady pace, greeting everyone with a hug, except for Michael Pratt who insists on doing the secret handshake he taught you during rehearsals all those years ago. You hand your coffee to John Ryan on your right, because unfortunately you’ll need both hands for this. It takes a little practice but then you remember the full routine and you can’t help but laugh when you nail it on your third try, earning you a wink from Johnny when he hands you your coffee back, “Still got it, huh kiddo?”

All too soon there’s only one person left to greet and you know all eyes are on you when you walk towards Chris, the talking from before quieting down to a hushed whisper. It’s fine. You get it. You would want to know what happens next too.

“Hi.”

He seems unsure what to do and after a second or two he pulls you in for a hug that’s a little awkward and might have not been such a good idea after all.

You give him a quick pat on the back before you pull back, and step to the left, trying to hide from view a little. There’s a whole range of emotions you’re going through right now and you’re not sure which one to settle one. If somehow you could walk out of here and just forget this ever happened, you probably would, even though you are sure Nicole would never let you.

It’s then three more people walk in and so everyone’s attention shifts to the newcomers before they have a chance to ask questions you don’t have any answers to.

The two men and one woman introduce themselves as the director, choreographer, and musical director for this project and tell you there’s a lot of work ahead of you, even though from tomorrow there will be some professionals to fill some of the minor roles and help with the choreography. They seem so unfazed about having a celebrity there that you can’t help but wonder if they got instructions from production or if they’re just used to working with well-known actors. You suppose, and hope, it’s the latter.

“So, Grease,” the director, Coy, comments with a smile when he hands the scripts to Nicole to pass down the line, “that was already a classic by the time you performed it.” He asks everyone to tell him who had which role in the original production, taking notes and nodding fervently when he hears who played who.

Coy looks up and smiles, “So, we have a lot to do, of course, if we’re gonna do a show in five days, but Grease doesn’t work unless you have fun. Unless you’re having fun, the show falls flat.” He looks to Adam, the musical director, “So today we’re gonna have a little bit of a singing session. That’ll let us know where you are, vocally.”

Adam has the group form a semi-circle and hands each of you a piece of paper with the lyrics of ‘I Want it that Way’ by the Backstreet Boys on them, because, as he reasons, it was one of the biggest hits the year you performed Grease and you all need to go back to that place in time.

Nicole starts, a little hesitant at first, but then she decides to go for it and it’s amazing and, like nineteen years ago, you are absolutely in awe of her voice. As more and more people sing their rendition of the song, you are actually surprised at the level of singers in the group and how serious everyone takes this. That is until Johnny and Michael decide to remake the song into a duet once it’s Johnny’s turn and their very serious facial expressions and interpretive dancing have you crying from laughter in no time.

Chris is up next and finally you get to take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater that stretches across the muscles in his arms and chest, paired with black jeans, and sneakers, and it suits him. His voice is soft but clear and you can’t help but wonder why he never did more musical theater. You’ve followed his career, of course you have, and you’re proud to see what he’s accomplished, because you know how hard he’s worked to get there.

It’s your turn then and instead of butterflies it feels like there’s a herd of elephants stomping around in your stomach. You step up anyway, because, with the exception of the three professionals, they’ve all heard you sing before. You haven’t sung in a long time, but you still know how to carry a tune, although you never really take any risks, and so if anything your rendition errs a little on the boring side. Still, you make it through the song without any real struggles and at the end Adam praises the group, saying he’s impressed at everyone’s vocal capabilities.

Coy looks up from his seat then, where he’s been taking more notes ever since Nicole started singing, and informs you that they have decided to honor the original casting.

And so here you are, once again playing the Rizzo to Chris’ Kenickie.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of read-throughs, choreography, and more singing, and even though you know you’ll be dead-tired once you get back to your hotel tonight, you also can’t help but feel excited. You never pursued a career in acting or performing and so Grease was both your first and last venture out into the theater world, but God, did you like it.

You’re a little lost in thoughts, watching a scene you’re not in from the side of the stage, thinking back on your days as a theater kid, when Chris comes up beside you, “How you holding up?”

You know what he wants you to say, because this has been your spiel whenever you found each other in the wings, but you just can’t get the words out, there’s eighteen years worth of pain and heartache that needs to be dealt with first. Instead, you keep looking straight ahead at the scene in front of you, shaking your head ever so slightly to let him know, what, you’re not exactly sure.

He takes a step back and doesn’t say anything else until it’s his turn to enter the stage.

There’s no time to unravel what the hell just happened because Nicole comes off stage and joins you then, gently bumping her hips against yours, “You ok, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“The ghost of my fifteen-year old self,” you mutter quietly. A little louder then, hoping she’ll let it go, “Don’t worry about it, Nic.”

“Well, at least no one’s gonna complain about the age difference between you two now,” she says with a grin, nodding towards the stage where Chris is going through his scene. She shakes her head, “God, I still can’t believe it was such an issue back then, only because he was, what? A year older?”

“Almost two,” you offer. You remember Mrs Linton pulling you aside to inform you there had been complaints about you being cast as Rizzo. She told you there were some people who were worried the age difference between you and Chris could be perceived as inappropriate, especially because you shared one very steamy makeout scene right before intermission, that went on for at least a few minutes. You were just a junior and so shocked to learn people had a problem with you that you offered to step down, but it turned out Mrs Linton was on your side, and she told you she’d kick your butt all the way back to second grade if you even so much as thought about letting them win.

You never found out who she meant by ‘them’ but you always thought Jessica Mullen, the girl playing Sandy, and Fiona Warren were behind all this. Jessica and Fiona were best friends, two of the most popular senior girls, and it was no secret Fiona had a huge crush on Chris back then. She also auditioned for the part of Rizzo, but Mrs Linton favored your approach to the character and so Fiona ended up being offered a role in the ensemble, which she declined with a temper-tantrum unprecedented by anything any two-year old has ever thrown.

Ultimately, as a compromise, Mrs Linton made you and Chris skip the makeout scene during rehearsals, which seemed to stop the protests somewhat. You've often wondered if she would have done things differently had she known Chris and you were already dating for two months by the time rehearsals started and so steamy make out sessions were part of your daily routine anyway. Then again, you always had the feeling she very much knew about your relationship and was just playing her part.

Nicole nudges you then, pulling you out of your memories, “It’s your cue, go!”

The producers thought it would be nice to have all of you go out to dinner after the first day back together, and so you find yourself at the Oak Barrel Tavern, sharing a table with Nicole, Johnny, Michael, Eric, and Chris, enjoying what everyone still considers to be the best burger in Sudbury. Funny how some things never change, you think, as you take a bite of your fries.

Except for you and Michael, the rest of the table all graduated in the same year and are already two beers deep into a play-by-play of the many senior stunts they pulled. You watch Chris as he animatedly tells the story of how he, Johnny, and Eric toilet papered the principal’s house the night before graduation. Two cameras circle your table and you are certain some part of this story will make it to air, because it’s too good not to. Johnny tries to chime in, but instead keeps letting out these roaring laughs whenever he remembers another detail of that night and you can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

It’s strange, you think, how something as insignificant as performing a musical together made you form a bond with these people which even after nineteen years is still there. Sometimes you wonder if leaving Sudbury all those years ago really brought you the peace of mind you were looking for. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so restless now if you had just accepted that this would always be your hometown and this group of people would always be here. You realize then that there’s hardly been any catching up going on tonight and so you figure they must have all kept in touch in some way or another.

You and Eric get to talking then, during a lull in the conversation, and he easily admits that hadn’t it been for Chris he would have liked to asked you to go to Senior Prom with him, revealing that back then he had a major crush on you. Your cheeks heat up at his confession and you can’t help but glance at Chris, who quickly adverts his eyes when you do. Turning back to Eric you try to make a joke about how he should have, because at least then you would have had a date, but the moment the words leave your mouth the awkward silence that follows makes you wish you hadn’t said anything.

Chris throws you an angry look and Nicole just stares at you in disbelief, before coming to your rescue and telling everyone that it’s getting late and maybe it’s time to go home.

You throw her what you hope is a grateful smile and get up, following the rest of the group outside, where the same crew that fitted you with your mic this morning is waiting for you and so you hand everything back to them like they asked you to

With a wave and a, “Goodnight everyone,” you head towards your car, not completely surprised when Nicole catches up with you.

“What the hell was that?”

“I-” you shake your head, “I don’t know. It came out before I knew it.”

“Well,” she says as she puts her hand on your shoulder and kisses your cheek, “we’ll discuss it over dinner tomorrow night.”

“Can’t wait,” you answer, a hint of sarcasm in your voice even though you are in fact looking forward to it. “See you tomorrow, Nic.”

“Bye, babe,” she says as she opens her car door and lowers herself into her seat. You wait until she’s backed up out of her parking spot before you give her a little wave and continue on towards your car while you rummage through your purse to try and find the keys to your rental. You push the button needed to unlock the car and are about to open the door when you hear someone come up behind you. Of course. You let out a sigh, “I know what you’re gonna say-”

“You don’t,” he says, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and his foot kicking at the loose gravel near your tire. He looks up at you, his voice much softer when he says, “I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years, Ace.”

Hearing him use his old nickname for you sends a shiver down your spine and you hate how it brings back an onslaught of memories. You don’t say anything, just look at him, wondering where he’ll go with this.

“Eighteen years is a long time.” He looks up at you, a sadness to his eyes that would make you a little weak in the knees had it not been for his next words, “Do you think that maybe it’s time to leave the past behind us? Maybe we could just start over?”

“We could just- Sorry, what?” You open your mouth to say more but find yourself at a momentary loss for words after what he’s suggested and so you stand there gaping like a stupid fish, which makes you even more angry. You shake your head and get in your car, “Goodnight, Chris.”

The drive to your hotel only takes a couple of minutes, which means you’re still pretty upset when you get to your room. Your purse ends up being flung into a corner somewhere before you make your way to the minibar and grab all four of the miniature bottles of whiskey that are in there, taking them out onto the balcony with you. Downing the first makes your throat burn in not an entirely unpleasant way, although it does nothing to relieve you of your anger.

Putting your feet up on the railing you lean back in your chair, head resting against the wall, and uncap the second tiny bottle. To hell with your good intentions of going to bed early, you think, knowing you won’t be able to sleep now anyway.

Today’s run to the theater room is almost a carbon copy of yesterday’s, down to the Starbucks cup in your hand because they didn’t replace the coffee maker in your room like they said they would and of course you forgot to check. The only difference is that you have a pounding headache and might just be a tad hungover. Oh well, there’s a first time for everything, you think as you make your way down to the stage once they've put your mic on.

Nicole eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything, although you do see her glance in Chris’ direction not much later, the rest of the group just nodding and some of them mumbling a “Good morning,” to you. Chris keeps his distance, probably thinks you’re still mad at him, which, you know, you are. Sort of, anyway. It sounded so casual when he suggested leaving the past behind you, like none of what happened matters anymore. Then again, maybe it doesn’t. It’s all just very confusing and you guess that’s what annoys you most of all.

Adam steps onto the stage then and tells you his plans for today, wanting to go through the songs in order, with choreography, for now not bothering with the scenes in between. It’s the only thing you’ll do today, except for some wardrobe fittings after lunch, and so he warns you it’s going to be grueling and that you won’t get to stop until everyone’s at least ninety percent there. A few more people come on stage and are introduced as the extras, professional actors who will make up the ensemble and help with the choreography where needed.

Your headache-induced bad mood helps you pull off ‘Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee’ with an attitude your sixteen-year old self wishes she had and even ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’ goes as well as it could. But then ‘We Go Together’ has you paired up with Chris for the first time and it’s awkward, and stiff, and when Coy reminds you that Rizzo is no longer mad at Kenickie at this point, you just nod and try to put in some extra effort to make it seem like there’s nothing going on between you and Chris, wanting to get it over with.

Coy doesn’t comment on it any further, but pulls you and Chris aside at the end of the day, when the rest of the group is dismissed after what Kelly, the choreographer, deems "A great day of work."

Both you and Chris are sitting on the edge of the stage, Coy standing in front of you, looking from one to the other and back, almost as if he’s studying you. He waves his hand around then, “What am I missing here?”

You shrug and out of the corner of your eye you see Chris do the same. You can’t help but smile when you realize it’s still very much you two against the rest of the world, even now, even when you’re sort of fighting.

“Fine,” Coy says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you don’t have to tell me. I’m just sensing some history here that I hope won’t get in the way of your performance.” He looks up at you, “Don’t let this become about you two, ok? There are eight other people who deserve this to be a good show. So whatever it is, work it out.” And then, before you have a chance to respond, he walks away, muttering something that sounds like, “High school drama, man.”

Next to you, Chris sighs and looks at you, “Maybe he has a point.”

“Hmm,” you shrug in a very non-committed kind of way. Your headache has reappeared, and you’re tired, and honestly, you just want to get back to your hotel room and take a quick nap.

Chris seems unfazed by your attitude, like he always was, “We really should talk about it.” He jumps down from the stage, “Why don’t you come over? We could get some takeout and, I don’t know,-’

“Chris,” you scoff.

“You rather do this here?” He raises his eyebrows and nods towards the camera on your left, which, no doubt, is still rolling.

“I’d rather not do this at all right now,” you mutter quietly, although you know it’s not fair. A little louder then, “I’m having dinner with Nicole tonight, so-"

He just nods, “Fine,” even though his jaw sets in a way that tells you it’s anything but.

“Come in, come in!” Nicole steps aside to let you pass and tells you to walk straight ahead to the kitchen, where you are greeted by the rest of her family. Her husband introduces himself as Keith and tells you it’s great to finally meet you, before he points at the two little boys sitting at the table, “That’s Leo, and the other hooligan’s Robby.”

“I’m five!” Leo exclaims proudly, holding up four fingers.

You chuckle, “That’s awesome!”

“The boys wanted you to sit in between them,” Nicole says from somewhere behind you, “hope you don’t mind?”

“Are you kidding me?” You wink at Robby, who looks at you expectantly, “Best seat in the house.”

Dinner is spent catching up with Nicole, or trying to anyway, because Leo and Robby keep interrupting, wanting to tell you about anything and everything they deem important enough to share. Which, as it turns out, is a lot. After dessert, Nicole asks Keith to take the kids into the living room, because, as she puts it, “Mama needs some peace and quiet,” and so you find yourself, glass of wine in hand, on the back porch not much later.

“You have a gorgeous family, Nic,” you tell her before you take a sip of your wine. “It’s really nice to finally get to meet them.”

“Thank you.” A mischievous smile then, “So. You wanna tell me what’s going on between you and Evans?”

Never one to beat around the bush, you think and laugh, “Nothing’s going on, Nic.”

“Uhu,” is all she says in reply, folding her arms in front of her chest as she keeps looking at you, one eyebrow raised for good measure.

You just shake your head but her looking at you like that makes you a little nervous and so, against better judgement you offer, “It’s complicated.”

“Uhu,”

“It is,” you reply, your voice suddenly an octave higher. You hesitate for a moment, but then you figure she knows most of it already anyway, and so you turn in your seat so you can face her, “You know I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, Nic, and I don’t know it’s- It’s weird.”

She nods, encouraging you to go on.

You sigh and rub your temple, “Eighteen years is a long time, Nic.”

“It is,” she agrees, “but maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet and at least try to be friends?” Her eyes grow kinder then, “You were always so good together.”

“I don’t know, I mean- And I know I keep saying this,” you hold up your hand when she starts to protest, “but it’s been such a long time. So much has happened. And none of it we went through together, you know? Does that even make sense?” You shrug and shake your head, “I guess our history together is both a blessing and a curse at this point.”

“You need to get out of your head, kid,” she offers with a stern look. “You’re setting this up for failure before it has even started.”

“This?”

“Oh come on,” she shakes her head, “don’t tell me it never crossed your mind.” She sits up, “I’m going to ask you something and you need to swear on Bubbles’ life that you won’t give me some bullshit answer.”

“Nicole,” you gasp, hand to your heart in pretend shock, but laughing at the same time. “You want me to swear on Mrs Linton’s dead goldfish? That’s fu-” but then you hear the french doors open and see two little boys running towards and so you have to adjust quickly and throw her a look for good measure, “-funny. Super funny. Funny haha. You’re funny.”

Nicole lets out a laugh and throws you a wink before she holds out her arms and smothers her two boys in kisses once they jump onto her lap, “Goodnight my little rebels, I love you.”

A chorus of “I love you, mama,” makes you smile and you watch the boys run back inside where they give you a quick wave from behind the door before they disappear upstairs.

“So?” Nicole asks, as if nothing ever happened.

You glare at her, knowing she’ll never let it go, “Fine.”

“Would you have come back to Sudbury to do this show if it weren’t for Chris?”

You let your bottom lip roll between your teeth while you contemplate your reply, but of course you know the answer already. It wasn’t just for shits and giggles that you searched all the gossip sites for any information on his relationship status when you first agreed to do this. And so you shake your head, “No.”

“You know I told Keith I wasn’t sure you’d even come back, right?” Nicole shakes her head, “After all you’ve been through after you and Chris- You know-”

“Yeah,”

“I still have all your letters,” she confesses with a smile. “Every single one of them.”

“Nic-”

“It was my way of keeping you close,” she says and shrugs. She tries to act as if it’s no big deal, but her voice catches on the last word and when she tries to smile it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She clears her throat, “I’m just glad to have you back.”

They’ve replaced the coffee machine in your room while you were out yesterday and so there’s no running towards the theater room once you make it to Lincoln-Sudbury this morning. You walk through the hallways at a leisurely pace, enjoying how much everything still looks the same, down to the blue color of the lockers lining the wall.

You’re actually a little early and so you’re one of the first to arrive, only finding Johnny and Michael on stage. Michael insists you give the secret handshake another go and you can’t help but laugh when you nail it on the first try this time.

Johnny gently pats your back, “It’s really good to have you back, kid.” He runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck and looking a little flustered, “We always wondered what happened to you, you know, after you and Chris broke up and you left Sudbury-”

“Thanks, Johnny,” you reply with a smile, “that means a lot.”

“But you’ve been good?” Michael asks.

You nod, “I am now. It’s good to be back.”

The door opens then and you see Chris and Jessica walk in together, Jessica telling him something that makes him laugh and all of a sudden you feel a pang of jealousy that you’re not necessarily proud of. You try to get back into the conversation with Michael and Johnny, but they’re talking about last night’s football game and so you just stand there, trying your hardest not to stare as Chris and Jessica step onto the stage. Before it can get awkward though, the rest of the group walks in and so all of a sudden there are nine people surrounding you and your attention is diverted elsewhere.

Nicole waves at you from the other side of the stage and you smile back at her, mouthing a, “Morning,” at her.

Coy, Adam, and Kelly walk in next, followed by the ensemble, and not much later you find yourself reciting your lines over and over again because Coy wants to do a complete runthrough of the show this afternoon to prepare for the two dress rehearsals planned for tomorrow.

You find Chris on the side of the stage in between scenes and stand beside him, not saying anything because you’re so nervous you don’t even trust your own voice right now. But, you promised Nicole you’d do this, promised her you would try to make things right, and so here you are, reaching for his hand, your finger’s brushing against his skin before you gently tap the inside of his wrist four times. Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Meet me after practice

It’s been nineteen years since either of you last used this shorthand, but he must remember what it means because he nods in reply.

You wait for him in what used to be your usual spot, all the way in the back of the parking lot where there’s a bench tucked away in the tree line. It’s been a while since you were dismissed by Coy and you worry he might not show up making your stomach turn.

Letting your eyes fall to the ground you distract yourself by trying to get your breathing under control, hoping it will help you calm your nerves. When you look up again you can’t help but smile, because there he is, walking towards you and looking just as nervous as you feel, “Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Listen, Chris-” you start, just as he says something that you don’t quite catch. He nods for you to go first and so you clear your throat and start again, “You were right. We should talk-”

“Come again?” He grins, “Did you just tell me I’m right, Ace?”

You stare at him, shaking your head, but there’s a smile playing on your lips because this is the best response you could have gotten and so you shrug, “I guess I did.”

“I guess you did,” he echoes. A little more serious then, “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, because honestly you didn’t think this far ahead, “maybe grab a bite to eat somewhere?”

He smiles apologetically, “I have somewhere I need to be tonight, but why don’t we do this tomorrow? That way we can both think things over a little and-”

“I’d like that,” you admit easily.

“You want to come over to my place or should I book a table somewhere?”

Biting your lip you weigh the pros and cons, quickly realizing you much rather have this conversation in the privacy of his home than somewhere in a restaurant and so you nod, “I’ll come over.” You give him your phone number and watch as he saves it in his phone, smiling when he puts you in as ‘Ace’.

He pockets his phone when he’s done, “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s a little awkward then and so you turn around, a quick wave over your shoulder to tell him goodbye.

You hear your name being called from somewhere behind you when you walk from your car to the entrance of the school and can’t help but smile when you see Nicole hurry to catch up with you. You kiss her cheek once she joins you, “Morning.”

“Hi, gorgeous,” she beams back, “you excited about today or what?”

“Dress rehearsal?” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Uhu,”

You raise your eyebrows and look at her as you push the double door leading into the building open, unsure if she’s saying what you think she’s saying. You shake your head when she starts laughing, “How do you even know?”

“I didn’t,” she holds up her hands to let you know she’s telling the truth, “but I saw you in the parking lot together after practice yesterday and I just figured, you know, maybe you kept your word about wanting to work things out with him. And then you totally gave it away just now, so-”

“I hate you,” you mutter quietly as you pick up your pace.

“You love me,” she counters, easily catching up with you. “And you’re going to tell me exactly what you’ve got planned for tonight.”

Like he promised, Coy wants you to run through the entire show at least twice today, choreography, outfits changes and all, and so you take your place, not particularly looking forward to all the dancing. The first half of the show goes as well as it could, although Johnny keeps forgetting his lines, and Jessica takes too long whenever she has to do an outfit change, and ok, fine, you mess up the choreography more than you care to admit too.

When you finally get to the part right before intermission, where you and Chris have to make out for at least two minutes, Nicole is quick to inform Coy that you never rehearsed that scene when you first performed the show, and wouldn’t it be great if you didn’t do it this time around either? Coy seems interested as to why and so Nicole gives him an abridged version, and to your surprise he quickly agrees to skip the scene until the show tomorrow, because, as he reasons, it will add some drama.

A quick glance at Chris earns you a wink from him and you know he’s probably just as relieved as you are.

You find Nicole in the dressing room not much later, where she’s getting fitted for her Frenchy wig and when you walk up to her all you say is, “Thank you.”

She nods in response, “Of course.”

At the end of the day you’ve run through the show almost three times and Coy seems somewhat confident that you’ll manage to pull it off tomorrow. He has some kind words for everyone and tells you all to get a good night’s sleep and to meet back again here tomorrow afternoon at five, for a last dinner together.

Chris texts you his address after practice and tells you he’ll have dinner ready around seven, with a smiley face at the end that lets you know he’s just as nervous about this as you are. It’s funny how easily you can still read him after all these years, you think, as you connect your phone to its charger before you hop in the shower.

Your outfit of choice is simple and not too dressed up, but still nice enough for whatever this is. Definitely not a date, you think, but then again, maybe it is. You grab your phone and purse before you head out, nerves suddenly taking over and for a moment you wonder if you should just cancel. You’re going back to Philadelphia on Sunday anyway, so maybe it’s better to just leave things the way they are, you reason. You give yourself a very stern talking to then, because you can’t keep running away from this. You’ve been doing that for the past eighteen years and look where that’s gotten you. No, time to get some closure, you decide as you close your hotel room door behind you and head downstairs to your car.

You pull up to a heavy iron gate about fifteen minutes later, only the roof of his house visible from the road. Pushing the call button you tap your steering wheel to the beat of the song that’s playing on the radio until he answers with a kind, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you reply with a smile and watch as the gate opens in front of you. After about half a mile the house comes into full view and you let out a quiet, “Wow,” because it really is a beautiful farmhouse. You park your car next to his not much later and just as you step outside his front door opens and a dog comes running towards you.

“Dodger, sit,” Chris says from where he’s standing on the front porch and the dog does as it's told.

“Hi cutie,” you say as you walk up to the dog and scratch behind its ears, “hi.” It gives you a moment to take a deep breath, because you’re so nervous it feels like there are hundreds of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach right now.

Dodger runs back to Chris then and so you follow him, meeting Chris on the steps, where he holds out his arm and pulls you in for a side hug, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Chris,” you protest quietly, although you don’t really want him to let go either.

“I know,” he whispers, “I know. I’m just glad you’re here.” He lets go then and motions for you to follow him inside. He leads you through the house to the kitchen, where the opened French doors reveal a large deck where a table has been set for two.

“Come on,” he says and walks outside where he pulls out a chair for you, “sit down. I’ll be right back.”

You watch him walk back into the kitchen, curious to find out what he’s up to but then Dodger sits down next to you and gently puts his paw on your knee to let you know he’d like some more scratches, thank you very much and so you don’t really see Chris come back with two glasses of champagne until he puts one down in front of you.

He sits down on the opposite side of the table before he raises his glass and smiles, “It’s good to have you back.”

“Yeah,” you reply, before you clink your glass against his and take a sip.

Dinner’s a little awkward, both of you not quite ready to stray away from the small talk and so you mostly just tell him what you’ve been up to these past eighteen years, albeit it a slightly abridged version. No need to tell him about how you’ve never really seemed to have been able to find your place in the world and still feel like an outsider everywhere you go just yet.

He tells you about his career, how much everything has changed once he agreed to play Captain America, and how he secretly would like to do more behind the camera from now on. Maybe step away from the spotlight a little because he still gets these bouts of anxiety and your heart goes out to him because you remember how much he struggled in high school.

To lighten the mood you tease him about doing this show because it seems so small in comparison to what he’s been doing, but he assures you he never even had to think about it when they asked him to take part.

“I’m guessing you were a little more hesitant?”

You nod, “I was.”

He doesn’t push it any further and you’re grateful for that.

You offer to help him clear the plates after he suggests to maybe move things inside because it’s getting colder. It takes two trips to the kitchen to clear the table and once again you compliment him on the amazing pasta dish he tells you he made from scratch. You believe him, only because you know his mother taught him well and you fondly remember her cooking.

He tells you to make yourself at home while he clears away the last things and so you find yourself in his living room, smiling when you see the wall filled with family pictures. Most of them are recent, but there’s one of him and his brother Scott that you know for a fact was taken at his parents’ house right before Chris’ Senior prom. You know this because you were the one that took it. And because you were his date.

“That was a good night,”

You look over your shoulder to see him walk towards you, holding a glass of whiskey in each hand, and can’t help but smile, “It was.”

He hands you one of the glasses and touches it with his then, “To all the good memories.”

“Chris-”

“I know,” he says, “but it wasn’t all bad, Ace.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you agree easily. “It was good, Chris, right up until the very end.”

“Yeah, about that-” He clears his throat before he speaks again, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry. For everything.”

You want to tell him that it’s ok, that it was no big deal, that maybe you overreacted at the time, but you guess you both know that’s not true and so you just say, “Thank you.”

He nods.

You take a sip of your drink then, relishing in the way it burns your throat, as a welcome distraction to the tears that have started to form in your eyes. You let your gaze drift back to the same picture when you say, “I wish you would have just told me.”

He lowers his head, “I know.”

“That’s what hurt me the most,” you swallow back a fresh set of tears. “Because it wasn’t so much that you couldn’t make it to my Senior prom, I mean, I understood working on your first movie was more important at the time but- To find out you were at some random B-list celebrity’s party- And not because you told me, but because someone shoved a magazine with your picture in it under my nose-” you shake your head trying to rid yourself of the memories, but failing -”draped over some girl.” You lift your glass and put it to your lips, fully intending to finish whatever’s left in one go.

He starts to say something but you hold up one finger to let him know you’re not done yet. A tear rolls down your cheek and you’re not sure if it’s because of the whiskey or because of everything else, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. There’s something you have to admit, “Maybe I should have reacted differently, or at least given you a chance to explain, but I-” a sob escapes you then, “I was so angry. So hurt. For me breaking up right then and there was the only thing that made sense.” Another tear spills over but you don’t even try to wipe it away, knowing more will follow soon. Instead you let out a humourless laugh, “But then suddenly every single thing in Sudbury reminded me of you and every memory was like a knife to the heart, and so I had to- I just had to leave.”

He nods and from the corner of your eye you see him run a hand through his hair.

“Turns out it hurt all the same no matter where I was,” you continue softly, “but it took me years to figure that out.” You clear your throat, trying to find the right words. Yes, it still hurts, but maybe it’s time to let the past be the past. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry too, Chris. I should have-”

“Don’t,” he says, his voice kind. “There are a lot of things we both could have done differently, but we were still so young and, I don’t know, I think we both did what we thought was best. We can’t change what happened,” he turns towards you, “and I don’t want to make excuses for what I did, because,” he clears his throat, “it would be far too little, far too late.” He lowers his eyes, “All I know is that it’s been eighteen years and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.”

“Chris-”

He looks back up at you and smiles, “It’s my turn now, Ace.” A hand on your arm then, his touch soft and a gentle squeeze to let you know what he’s going to say next is important, “I know there’s still a lot left unsaid, but we’ll get there, eventually. And this might sound crazy, and I’m not saying we should forget what happened but, I don’t know, maybe we could try to start over and just see where it leads us. What do we have to lose?”

You let the weight of his words sink in, wondering if you are able to just forgive and forget this easily. It’s then you remember admitting to Nicole that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Chris and the possibility to get some closure and so you agree with a quiet, “I’d like that.”

He seems a little unsure of himself then, so you put down your glass and take his hands in yours, draping them over your shoulders before you wrap your arms around his waist. He holds you tight, presses a soft kiss to your temple that feels maybe like the most intimate thing he’s ever done, and quietly whispers, “I’ve missed you, Ace.”

He offers you his guest bedroom after another round of whiskey and some smalltalk, because somehow you’re both still hesitant to open up completely. It’s ok, you tell yourself, you’ll get there eventually and there’s no need to rush. You find yourself in the ensuite bathroom not much later, putting on one of his Patriots shirts to act as your pyjamas for the night. It’s all a bit surreal and you’re grateful you’re on the opposite side of the house, because it would be too weird otherwise, even though you know that doesn’t really make sense either.

Sleep comes surprisingly easy once you’re under the covers and so the next thing you know there’s a knock on your door and for a moment you’re confused because this isn’t your hotel room. You hear his familiar chuckle on the other side then before he lets you know breakfast is ready if you’re up for it and it’s then you remember where you are.

You take a quick shower before you make your way to the kitchen where you find him leaning against the counter top, enjoying a cup of coffee, Dodger at his feet. He pushes a full cup towards you and smiles at you from over his, “Morning.”

“Morning,”

“Sleep well?”

“I did, yeah,” you admit, even though it still surprises you. You pick up the steaming hot cup and wrap your hands around it, the smell of freshly brewed coffee waking you up even more.

He motions to the kitchen island where there’s a plate of pastries, “I got you some Danish,” he almost looks embarrassed then, running a hand through his hair, “you used to like those, right?”

“I did.” You’re quick to correct yourself, “I do. Thank you.”

“You got any plans for today?”

You shrug, “Not really, maybe drive around a bit to do some sightseeing, you know, see how much has changed over the years.” You grab a pastry then and immediately Dodger’s attention shifts from Chris to you.

“No,” Chris warns him and Dodger’s quick to lie down again. “Good boy.” He looks back at you, “Until when are you here?”

You’ve just taken a bite and so it takes a while before you answer, “I’m flying back on Sunday.”

“To?”

“To Philadelphia.”

He nods appreciatively, “That’s not too far.”

You spend a few hours driving around the area, thankful that he didn’t ask if he could come. You guess you both needed some time alone.

The trip down memory lane is nice, but after a few stops you don’t really know where else to go and so you drive back to your hotel, where you have a few hours left until you need to get ready. You kick off your shoes once you’re inside your room and sit down on the tiny balcony before you fish your phone out of your back pocket and call Nicole, who picks up on the first ring.

“Tell me everything!”

“Hi Nicole, how are you,” you mock, but can’t help but laugh. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it? Are you excited for tonight?”

“I hate you,”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” she agrees, “but you better start talking, babe, or else.”

And so you do. You tell her about dinner, about the talk you and Chris had after, about how you spent the night, laughing when you hear her curse quietly after you’ve told her nothing happened, and how you and Chris agreed to start over.

“Oh honey,” is all she says, but you know exactly what she means.

#Chris Evans x reader #Chris Evans fanfic #Harley Sunday x Chris Evans #Chris Evans #Encore

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shou7 · 6 years

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A 3.7k Word Essay About the Failures of Future Pop and the Present State of Perfume

Just something I needed to get off my chest. It took me almost a week to get this done, but here it is.

When discussing a work of art, not only does it need to be evaluated as a product in and of itself, but also as part of a larger context. In the case of Perfume, this context includes but is not limited to: their own team’s intentions, the expectations their team has set for their fans and the general public, and the sonic landscape of the rest of the music industry. How critically and commercially successful an album is depends on how these aspects interact and come together. So before I can discuss why Future Pop has failed, it’s important to set the context into which it was released, starting with the purpose of every album in their discography.

GAME was Perfume’s real introduction to the general public after finally getting a breakthrough hit with Polyrhythm. That’s why it had catchy melodies and unique but still easily digestible production. Triangle’s role was to further GAME’s legacy, pushing GAME’s sound to be as mainstream as possible while still retaining Perfume’s signature production in order to attain even more commercial success. The era’s singles did just that, but the album itself went in the complete opposite direction. Triangle was Nakata self-indulging in 80’s pop and maxing out the auto-tune to the point of concealing the natural charms of the trio, and this alienated a lot of the general public. Thus JPN’s purpose was to gain back the general public’s favor, culminating in their most commercial and mainstream album to date. While this did recapture the general public’s interest, there were long-time fans that were put off by how mainstream Perfume’s sound had become. This brings us to LEVEL3, which served to rebrand them as a global electronic act, once again making Perfume distinct from the mainstream. The album still retained the catchy melodies of JPN, but featured more experimental instrumentation under the guise of EDM for better marketability to a global audience. With the success of LEVEL3 on overseas iTunes, as well as their sold-out overseas concerts, Perfume’s team starts pushing to increase the size of their Western fanbase. And so enters COSMIC EXPLORER, their first era and album featuring explicitly foreign sounds. But perhaps in an attempt not to scare off Western audiences with Japanese lyrics, the album featured more lengthy instrumentals than ever, reducing the amount of actual singing by the trio, and alienating plenty of the fanbase and general public.

And so we finally arrive in the Future Pop era. The COSMIC EXPLORER Tour was over and Perfume needed a new goal to replace Madison Square Garden after struggling to sell-out their North American leg. With Mikiko and Daito being involved in the 2016 Olympics closing ceremony, the answer was clear as day – the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Thus began a renewed focus on Japan rather than the West, an intent reflected clearly in TOKYO GIRL. The production was as inoffensive and simple as possible to please the general public, and it worked. TOKYO GIRL became only their third track to sell 100k digitally (after Spring of Life and FLASH). So having re-established themselves as mainstream artistes after the slight backlash from COSMIC EXPLORER, they began campaigning in earnest to perform at the Olympics. And this is where If you wanna and Mugen Mirai come in, heavy in new future bass influences. Future bass, thus, in this context was less about attracting more Western audiences, but more an effort to have Perfume embody the concept of “future” in the eyes of the general public, and to make them top picks for representing Japan in the Olympics. And this was what Future Pop was being set up to do as well, via the album’s photoshoot and comments from Perfume themselves, such as during the album announcement when A~chan said Nakata was creating a “new era in music”. So with Future Pop’s placement and purpose in Perfume’s discography now laid out, we can start discussing whether it achieved what it was supposed to do. Was it a “new era in music”?

In short: no, not at all. And I think that much of its issues as an album is best encapsulated in how a “dusty floppy disc” is referred to as an “ultra future loop” in Chourairin. Rather than “pop of the future”, it is “pop that makes you think of the future”, a theme highlighted by the contrast between the old and current sounds being fused on this album, as well as its lyrics. Just like how every album has been shaped by the criticisms of its predecessor, Future Pop is no different. The older Perfume sounds and relatively increased vocal sections in the album tracks strongly indicates that its main concern was regaining the older fans that were put-off by COSMIC EXPLORER. Unfortunately, all of the older sounds were added superficially, with nothing having been done to make them fit into the current soundscape of the industry. This is especially so for Tenkuu, which sounds like Nakata had the trio re-record a long lost Complete Best era B-side (think Foundation and wonder2). It’s telling Nakata doesn’t seem to understand that it’s never been the instrumentation itself, but the innovative spark behind the production that attracted listeners to Perfume. Though the production may have been innovative a decade ago, simply rehashing it now without any deconstruction in its use is regressive. Another big issue that this album has, especially to long-time fans, is Nakata’s complete disregard for Perfume’s public image and the narrative they’ve been pushing for the past year about maturing and turning 30. Forcing them to sing cutesy idol-like songs like Tiny Baby this late into their career with their voices pitched up to oblivion so as to sound like teenagers is the most jarring thing for fans that have matured together with the trio. So no, this album doesn’t achieve what it was supposed to do, nor what it actually set out to do.

However, more pressing is that a deconstructive take on “Future Pop” was absolutely not an album that Perfume should have released, not at this point in their careers when they are trying to be recognized as a guiding light for the future of the Japanese music industry. And especially not right after COSMIC EXPLORER played the space theme straight, truly committing to what it had promised, because people expected the same straightforward approach with Future Pop, and they were in fact (mis)led to believe so. In other words, no one expected what was to come, and so no one really wanted it from them. But at this point, I think it’s worthy to note that Perfume have never actually given their fanbase what they wanted. GAME fans never got another Secret Secret, Triangle fans never got another Edge, JPN fans never got another Fushizen na Girl, LEVEL3 fans never got another 1mm, and COSMIC EXPLORER fans didn’t get another Miracle Worker. Perfume’s sound has always been jumping from one genre to another, decided solely by the whims of Nakata, and so it is inevitable that there will always be people that are alienated with each change. The only reason Perfume has managed to remain so popular after a decade in the industry is because they’ve consistently put out quality work regardless of genre, drawing in more new listeners whenever one becomes disinterested. So if we put aside the album’s (mis)direction, does Future Pop stand on its own as a quality album?

Once again, my answer is no. Future Pop clocks in at 42m 3s, their shortest album to date by far, and yet not every second is worth listening to. Start-Up doesn’t really lead into Future Pop, nor does it really set up any atmosphere, and even if it did, Future Pop sets up its own atmosphere well enough, so that’s close to a minute wasted. Future Pop’s 15s outro also has the same issue. All this time wasted could have gone to fixing Chourairin’s abrupt and generic ending. Which brings us to the next problem, the fact that many of the songs on this album have very similar structures. Future Pop, If you wanna, TOKYO GIRL, Let Me Know, Chourairin, Mugen Mirai, and Everyday. That’s more than half the album that are pretty much their first halves repeated once more, with very little progression instrumentally, if any at all. And while the two halves structure isn’t immediately a bad thing, it does mean that there are only two hook sections, making it difficult for the already short songs to leave an impression on listeners. Further aggravating the issue is the lack of an infectiously catchy sing along chorus that has become synonymous with Perfume’s music over the years. TOKYO GIRL barely counts, and even then, its chorus is only sung twice which makes it harder to catch on. It also doesn’t help that this album is lyrically weak. A lot of the lyrics are saying the same thing, and it all bleeds together. Future Pop, TOKYO GIRL, Mugen Mirai, and Tenkuu are literally all about reaching for somewhere else in time, with imageries of light. It’s true that a lot of COSMIC EXPLORER’s tracks were about travelling, but it had a wider variety of tracks, so the monotony issue wasn’t as serious as it is here. And then we have Tiny Baby and Chourairin, which are largely just a bunch of random words thrown together. There is some semblance of coherent meaning in the lyrics of these two songs, but it’s all hidden beneath layers and layers of clutter. So even if listeners pause the music to take a deeper look at what they’re saying, there’s not much to make out. With all of these issues put together, Future Pop as a whole makes for an objectively forgettable listen – everything simply passes by before you know it. So no, it’s not a quality album. But hey, every act will have a weak album every now and then, right? As long as their hearts are in the right place, things will get better! Can’t we all just move past this and keep on supporting Perfume like we always have? So it finally comes down to a question of whether Perfume’s team still cares.

The quality of Nakata’s music has been a concern for quite some time, but Future Pop is the first album where it’s so explicitly clear that he doesn’t give a damn about who Perfume are or what they’re trying to achieve. Even if we set aside the questionable production decisions, there’s just no overlooking the laziness of including every single track of the era on the album. Worse still are their stylists who have only grown more and more brazen ever since 2011. It started with recycling lazy single-color cookie cutter outfits for live performances, which while not ideal, was acceptable. Now they’re just throwing a random bunch of random fabric together and calling it “avant-garde” (because Perfume are all about being cutting-edge right?), no thought at all about whether the colors and materials mesh well, or whether the silhouette of the outfits flatter their bodies. The covers of their singles and their albums always seemed to escape those patchwork outfits, as if they understood covers were sacred ground that should not be messed with, but with Future Pop, even that distinction has disappeared. And then we have Perfume’s creative directors, who, ever since STAR TRAIN, seem to have been selecting covers and promotional images from photo shoots by throwing darts while blindfolded. Not only is there no thought behind which photos work better as posters, artiste profiles, or covers, they don’t even make sure that the photos they’re putting out are flattering for all three members. But at the very least, even if the photos chosen were less than satisfactory, the visual concepts have always been up to a certain standard. Future Pop is nowhere close to that standard. It was already a bad decision in itself to play the “future pop” concept straight instead of following Nakata’s deconstructive take, because that led to album covers and promotional material that don’t reflect the atmosphere or sound of the album at all, which is basically false advertising. But then they also had to use cheap twine straw to represent beams of light for an album called “Future Pop” when Rhizomatiks already has tons and tons of lasers ready for use in their warehouse. Another big issue with the creative direction of this album is its limited edition. Not only is the cover atrocious, the packaging does nothing to salvage it. It’s simply the same packaging Mirai no Museum had, but with a slipcase and no comic. And then there’s also the fact that the booklet for the limited and regular editions are exactly the same. There’s just no excuse for how lazy and basic the packaging is when its title is “Future Pop”, it’s their most expensive album to date, and especially not when the team has been so much more innovative with the past three albums. The direction the creative team took with the promotion of the album is also highly problematic. It was a very questionable decision to promote COSMIC EXPLORER with the version of a track that doesn’t appear on the album proper, but at least the visuals for FLASH didn’t clash so badly with the album’s. And there was justification in that choice, because FLASH was their biggest hit since Polyrhythm, so they were forced to use it in the promotional campaign for COSMIC EXPLORER. There’s none of that justification here for having Let Me Know’s visuals go in the exact opposite direction from that of Future Pop. The wistful Let Me Know had to be chosen as the promotional lead because it was the most mainstream of the album tracks, but that’s no reason to go full nostalgia and plaid for its aesthetics without even trying to incorporate any futuristic aspects into it.

So it’s pretty clear that not one person on Perfume’s entire team bothered to actually think through what’s being done with the album, and it’s really easy as fans of the trio to simply keep on blaming their team for the shoddy work. But I think it’s time we hold the ones at the center of everything culpable, because ultimately, the ones giving the final go-ahead and enabling all of this nonsense are Perfume themselves. Since the very beginning, the trio have been perpetuating this notion that they have no control over their music or image, and that they’re just promoting what all of these talented people are giving to them. Though that may have been the truth at the beginning of their careers when they were nobodies, things have changed since then. There are tons of creators that want to collaborate with them – they have leverage now. They’re the ones that are choosing what they put on, and what they put out, and this applies to their music too. The fact that three of them were the ones who got Nakata to add the Japanese lyrics into Spending all my time shows that their opinions do matter to him. So if they had wanted to, they certainly could’ve sent Nakata a memo to tell him that the vocal tuning on the album needs to be pitched down because they’re turning 30 and it doesn’t suit the whole mature image that they’re going for. If they had wanted to, they could’ve fired their stylists the moment they were presented with those awful rags to wear on stage. And yet they didn’t – because there’s never been a need to. They’ve never been faced with any direct repercussions. Perhaps because of the many years of quality output, Japanese fans tend to ignore any flaws altogether, blindly purchasing and consuming new releases, simply believing that things will get better. The Japanese public and any unconvinced fans don’t say anything either, because being negative would be considered rude, so they just turn the other way, silently losing interest in Perfume. So even when Perfume themselves aren’t convinced with what they’re putting out, like how A~chan was with Triangle, their products continue to sell decently. Even when they appear on stage in garbage, the crowd continues to cheer. In this sort of bubble environment without any form of criticism, it’s no wonder that the three of them would grow complacent. After all, no matter if they like their products or not, and no matter if the products are of high quality or not, even as sales continue to quietly drop, the response remains the same. “Nakata is a god!” “Perfume are goddesses!” All they have to do is put on a smile and promote whatever their team gives them to sell. But even then, none of this is an excuse to have completely given up ownership of their own brand like they have. As such, if there’s anyone that’s really to blame for the current state of affairs, it’s Perfume themselves for leaving their car on autopilot even as it continues speeding towards a cliff.

With that, for one last time, my answer is no. Future Pop was not a one-off bad decision. It’s every problem that’s been plaguing Perfume these past few years finally coming to a head in one gigantic mess, and not one person in Team Perfume, not even Perfume themselves, still care enough to clean this mess up. And so we’ve ended up in the final stages of Perfume’s career. In the latest Ongaku to Hito interviews for Future Pop, the trio mention that they don’t think about how much time they have left as Perfume anymore, and that they’ll carry on as long as people want them to. Some fans may read that as a show of confidence – reassurance that Perfume still has years and years left to go. But put in the context of reality, that statement paints an entirely different picture – them turning a blind eye to the situation, opting instead to just enjoy whatever time they have left as a trio. First week sales for Future Pop are going to be over 35% less than COSMIC EXPLORER’s, and sales for their releases are only going to continue to fall from here. What this means is that if poor sales of Mugen Mirai hadn’t already, Future Pop will have thrown all talk of performing for the Olympics out the window, because there’s just no way a group that’s not even relevant enough to sell 100k copies of their album in its first week is going to represent Japan in a prestigious global event. So with the Olympics now a non-factor, how many people exactly will it take for them to continue as Perfume? That’s all up to Universal and Amuse to decide, and looking at what they’ve been doing with Perfume, the end is not that far off. The marketing for Future Pop was utterly atrocious. COSMIC EXPLORER had liner notes from celebrities and an entire montage commissioned, but all Future Pop has had are cheaply-made Instagram stories and posts. This suggests that they’ve already given up on sales from the general public, and are mainly focused on getting pre-existing fans to buy the album. Why? Because they don’t even expect the general public to be interested, not after Mugen Mirai failed to even sell anywhere close to half of what FLASH did despite having had the same exposure from the Chihayafuru movie franchise. All of the ugly outfits and questionable music directions have finally alienated too much of the general public, and no amount of technological showcases is going to win back their interest or convert anyone new into fans. The social currency of the Perfume brand is at an all-time low and it’s reflected in how magazines like ROCKIN’ON JAPAN didn’t give them the cover to promote Future Pop despite always having done so when there was a big feature about them. The end of any halfway popular thing falling into obscurity is always marked with the corporations behind it shamelessly milking hardcore fans out of as much money as they can, and that’s what’s happening to Perfume right now. Instead of having a CD-only edition of Future Pop, Universal is forcing a DVD/BD filled mostly with already online material into every copy in order to inflate prices and exploit the remaining hardcore Perfume fans. Meanwhile, Amuse is having Perfume sell insanely overpriced clothing through Perfume Closet. 60 USD for a plain black cap with Perfume’s watermark on the front, 100 USD for a plain T-shirt with a little lace in its breast pocket, 180 USD for a plain black pair of slacks – it all screams exploitation of fans. Universal and Amuse are getting maximum returns for investing as little as possible, and with this business model turning in a decent profit for them, things are only going to get worse as they try to squeeze out more and more money from less and less fans.

The Perfume fan experience since 2014 has been like watching a close relative slowly but surely losing themselves to Alzheimer’s. It’s not a steady downwards spiral. In fact, even as the symptoms grow more serious, there always seem to be better days where you can see a spark of who once was. But every time you think they’ll get better, or perhaps even recover entirely, it’s always a turn for the worse. The cycle repeats until one day, you find them in hospital, bedridden and on life support because they’ve forgotten how to eat or breathe. This is where we’re at with Perfume now. They’re not dead yet, but they’re pretty damn close, and all that’s left is for Universal and Amuse to collectively pull the plug when they aren’t turning in enough of a profit from Perfume. It’s painful to keep watch by their bedside until they finally die, denied even one last gasp for air, but the worst pain of all is continuing to pray for a miracle that I know will never come. And so I’ve finally decided to turn in my stan card. I won’t be translating anymore supplementary materials, I won’t force myself to translate lyrics to Perfume songs that I don’t like, and I’ll stop checking every other day for updates - I’ll just go back to being a normal, casual fan.

I will always, always, love Perfume, but these three thirty year-old women singing in cutesy girl voices, dancing in tacky cut-and-paste dresses, and smiling as if all is right with the world even as everything around them continues to fall apart? I don’t know them.

#prfm

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