[C][AU] Fermata

"I'm half English, so I grew up learning English, as well." That wasn't something that he'd said much about. Fleck usually kept his family business to himself.

"I chose English for Rainy Day, because its one of the most well-known languages right now. A lot of people have approximate knowledge of English, so it reaches a more widespread audience."

His lips curled upwards. "Me and my younger brother, Jay, have a project in progress that we're both pretty excited about."

"Oh?"

He didn't know about that tibit of information in all the research he had done.

He nodded along to what Hank said. It was the normal answer foreign artists gave when explaining their choice in creating English songs. Nothing new here.

Then his intrest spiked as Hank curled his lips.

After the tease he gave Dick was sure he wouldn't get any new information out of him.

He leaned forward.

"New project?" He prompted.

"Between Jake and I, we're fluent in seven languages." Another thing that he didn't advertise much. He didn't often speak in anything but English in public. Obviously he knew Italian, but he didn't speak in it much.

"And we plan to being translating each song into a few different languages, for our fans that don't speak English, or Italian."

His grin widened. "We've already been working tirelessly on translating together, and we've translate to Spanish, German and Mandarin already. We're working on a couple more at the moment, and when I return from my America tour, I'm going to live at the studio to get all the songs recorded."

Dick's eyebrows shot up.

Seven languages?!

He knew that people who didn't have English as their first language normally learned it. That was an achievement in itself. But then to know more than that? It always blew him away. Especially since he only knew his first language and couple of phrases from French in school.

He listened eagerly to what Hank had to say. This was all new to him.

"That sounds incredible."

He sat and stared at Hank in awe. To translate all of his songs and his tour around Europe was incredible in itself. But to translate them into six more languages? It was a little difficult to believe.

He blinked and shook his head to snap himself out of it, remembering he was here to interview the man, not gape at him.

"Have you found it difficult to get the translations to fit the music and not lose any of their meaning?"

"Yeah, it's been really hard for the both of us, but that's why we're working together, and Jay's penpals have been helping out, too, when we both get stuck."

He gestured vaguely again. "Having someone else to soundboard off has made the whole process much easier. Sometimes a fresh mind to make suggestions is just the thing you need. Everyone that's helped us out has been incredible."

A few loose strands bounced as he nodded along, still astonished by the news.

He thought it was just a routine interview, with just a little bit of new information sprinkled in; tidbits about Hank Masin's life and thought process. Dick would try to pull something interesting of him only for it to be fruitless. Like trying to find out about a new album.

But no.

He did end up finding out something huge.

"Would you be able to tell me all the languages you are translating the album into?"

"Italian, obviously. We'll be translating the few Italian songs into English. Spanish and German, Mandarin Chinese."

Then he grinned again. "I'll keep the last couple a surprise. Can't tell you everything."

He had to leave something to the imagination for these sorts of big reveals. He didn't want to reveal everything now. There had to be something that kept his fans waiting and wanting more.

"I hope you tell Fermata first," Dick joked.

He couldn't be disappointed about other two languages being kept secret. Not with the new information he got. Fans would be all over the article as it is.

"For the languages you aren't proficient in; would you be singing or would someone else step in?"

"I'll be singing. I'm good at mimicking, so I'll probably have the penpal that I'm working with for that specific language recite the lyrics so I can copy the way they sound."

He knew enough of all the languages they were using that he'd know the gist of what he was saying. It would just be grammatical nuances and accents that he'd be copying.

"All the singing will be done by me."

Dick's eyebrows shot up.

He wasn't expecting that answer.

Momentarily he wished this interview was going to be recorded with the intention of it being a podcast or video. Then he could have maybe pried out an example. He was especially interested to hear what Mandarin would sound like.

But, unfortunately, this interview was going to be written.

"That's really impressive! I speak on behalf of everyone when I say I look forward to listening to it. Could you maybe give us a rough estimate on when the translated versions would be released?"

"Nu-uh. My manager would kill me. That information's under lock and key."

He'd revealed as much as he could about that project.

"Next question."

Dick leaned back into his seat.

It was a shame he couldn't get more out of Hank, but he was satisfied with what he got.

Fan's and music enthusiasts would be all over this interview when it was published, with his name beside it.

"You designed the cover for the album right? Could you maybe tell me your thoughts behind it and design process?"

"Oh, that one's tough."

He pressed his lips together and puffed his cheeks out as he thought. "It's... I just..." He waved his hand in a circular motion, as if trying to force his thoughts to speed up.

"With any artistic process, I just got ideas down onto paper. I had maybe thirty different thumbnails. And I just picked a few of my favourites. Most of them were ideas of people in different positions, so Jay photographed me in those poses. From there I picked my favourite."

His favourite had been a picture of him, back to the camera, sat in window seat of his sister's bedroom, looking out onto a rainy street. He was in colour, while the rest of the image was greyscale.

"And that's when I started painting." That would probably come as a surprise to people. The album cover was photo-realistic. Most would likely believe that it was a photograph. "I did a dozen smaller colour studies first, to make sure I got the right tonal values, and the colour didn't look too bright against the greyscale. And then I just... went at it."

He shrugged.

He couldn't really explain his artistic process in any detail. It was all emotion in the moment, really, and that wasn't something he could recount.

Dick opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

He knew Fleck designed the album cover. But he, like everyone else, always assumed it was just a photograph.

"You're incredibly talented," he sincerely said, cheeks pinking.

Not everyone could boast about having a number one album and could design and paint a hyper-realistic cover for it.

"What made you want to paint it? Rather than just stick with the photograph?"

"It's a personal touch. I've been painting for much longer than I've been singing. Painting comes easier to me than singing does."

He'd been a professional artist before he'd become a professional singer.

"I loved painting this one. It's something that I've been planning for as long as I'd been planning the album itself."

Dick smiled.

"So a very long time then."

Blue eyes flicked down to his phone then back up to Fleck.

"One more question before we finish this interview off: Where do you see yourself in a years time?"

"In a year? Doing the same. Entertaining fans worldwide, talking about new music."

He wanted to still be a person that entertained thousands of fans all over the world. That was something that he wanted to do for years to come.

Dick smiled at Hank again as he leaned over to stop and save the recording. It was almost an hour long.

He pocketed the phone and stood up, reaching out his hand for a handshake.

"Again, thank you for your time."

He took Dick's hand, and stood, leaning forwards to press his cheek against Dick's kissing the air.

"I hope I answered enough questions. I know I didn't answer a few of them."

He pulled back and greened sheepishly in apology.

Dick knew this was how Italian's greeted and said there goodbyes. Yet he still felt his face go hot against Hank's cheek.

Now the interview was over all the struggles he had from the start flooded back. Don't let his blush go out of control. Don't let his eyes drop down. Don't let his voice accidently hitch up a pitch.

None of that was easy to do when they were both stood face to face, close enough to touch. Hank Masin was still shirtless.

"It-" he cleared his voice, "it's no problem. I completely understand."

He patted his pocket.

"I still, you know, have a pretty good article on here."

"Good."

He didn't hugely enjoy interviews, but he didn't want to put someone out of their job because he was uncooperative.

"I want to invite you to tonight's gig, if you have the time."

Another very Italian thing that some people thought was crazy, but he couldn't help his need to be accommodating to people.

Blue eyes stared up at Hank. Dick wasn't entirely sure he heard the question right.

Did he always offer his interviewer along to a gig? Or was he hitting on him? Maybe he was just being polite? Did he even want him to go?

"I- Sure. Okay. That would be great, thanks."

He could have just said he was working - it wasn't far from the truth. But he didn't want to. He wanted to go and see Hank Masin perform live.

"I'm heading over there now. Are you on clock still, or do you want to come with?"

He jerked his thumb towards the hotel door.

Dick could hang around, chat with people while he set up, listen to the sound check, and all the exciting things of getting ready for a gig.

Dick hesitated.

He should go into work. Write up the interview and get the first draft of the article done. He also had another article to finish up that was due was tomorrow morning

But going to the setup would be an interesting. For an article, of course. Either something he could add to the interview article, or let it be its own entity.

"I'm still working but I could do it at the venue. I have my laptop on me."

"Great." A grin spread across his face.

"Let me go find a shirt and then we can go." He disappeared into his bedroom, leaving the door open.

"There's still a couple hours before the gig starts," he called through the door. He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them, then went on a search for what they'd decided he was going to wear during his gig tonight. They'd packed it somewhere. "So you'll have plenty of time to chill. You might have to listen to some shitty sound checks, though."