maayacolabackup | Flip the Script (Ryo/Kame, PG-13) [3/4]

*

Asami blinks twice at him as his phone lights up with a new message. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Popular,” she says, and Ryo reaches up and rubs at the newly shorn hair at the back of his neck, letting the short strands tickle at his fingers. It’s a nice day, and most people are at work, so the park is kind of deserted. Just Ryo, Asami, and their mocha lattes filling the silence with the kind of catch-up talk that’s long overdue. They’re both busy people.

“It’s only one person,” Ryo says. “It’s not popularity if it’s only one person.”

“Well, you’re popular with one person, at least,” Asami says. “And if you don’t pay attention to me instead of your mobile, it’s probably going to be just one person.”

“Sorry,” Ryo says. “It’s Kamenashi. He has a meeting with Mary today and he’s seriously just texting me pictures of shirts, wondering which one gives off the impression of apologetic but not repentant.”

Asami chuckles, her husky voice floating between them and washing over Ryo soothingly. “And he’s asking you…why?” She looks Ryo up and down, taking in his oversized khaki shorts and his sweatshirt with a judgmental eye. “Not that you can’t look good, but it’s not something you have a vested interest in.”

“I told him no stains, and no American curse words on his t-shirt,” Ryo says, and then he looks down, and Kame has sent him a message with twenty tiny ‘v’ hands, that Ryo thinks means Kame’s decided on something.

“Solid advice,” Asami says, and Ryo looks up from his phone to study her. She sounds a little amused, which Ryo doesn’t really get, because she can’t see the peace signs. “You Johnny boys really stick together.”

“Some of us,” Ryo says. “It’s sort of like we’re all survivors.” He scratches his nose. “But Kamenashi is a friend, and I don’t care about… those things.”

“Those things,” Asami says, and Ryo flushes.

“You know,” Ryo says. “Rumors.” He looks up at the sky now, because Asami’s still got that tiny smile on her face. “Or truths.”

“You know,” Asami says. “When someone calls me all the time about things they know I don’t care about, I assume it’s because they just want to talk to me and they need an excuse.”

“Kamenashi doesn’t need an excuse to text me,” Ryo says, but his mouth feels a little dry. He licks his lips, and the clouds are really white. “He knows that.”

“The other thing,” Asami says, standing up and tossing her empty coffee cup into the trash, “is that when I answer all those texts, even when I don’t care about the subject…” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket, letting her thumbs rest on the seams. Her nails are glossy, the way Ryo has always found attractive because it looks so simple. She has pretty hands. “Well, usually that means I like them back.”

Ryo shuts his eyes, and Asami laughs again. “I have to get back to work,” he says, and Asami snorts.

“Don’t think about it too hard, Nishikido. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I don’t have problems thinking,” Ryo says, and Asami clicks her tongue.

“I don’t know,” Asami says. “It seems like you’ve got access to all these feelings when you’re acting, but in real life, they’re all stuck somewhere.”

“I get that a lot,” Ryo says, and his coffee is empty too, and he really should be heading to set. “I’ve really got to go.”

“So do I,” Asami says. “But hey, if you get this choked feeling, like you’re suffocating, and you don’t know what it is?”

“Yeah?” Ryo says, and he’s standing and brushing invisible lint off his shorts, because it’s something to do that isn’t uncomfortably grimacing in Asami’s direction.

“Well, if you feel that, then I want you to close your eyes and pretend like you’re in a drama. What would Yuuji do?”

“Cry,” Ryo says without thinking, and then he scowls. “I’m not going to cry.”

“Maybe it will help,” Asami says, and shrugs her shoulders. Ryo’s phone beeps in his pocket. “But first, I guess you’d better respond to that message.”

“It can wait,” Ryo says, but when Asami’s out of sight, he quickly switches to his texts, and smiles when he sees a picture of a grinning Kame, making a peace sign and wearing a soft-looking blue t-shirt. No stains and no swear words is the caption, and Ryo feels a tiny flutter in his chest.

*

“What are you thinking about?” Kamenashi asks, and Ryo’s a little drunk, and a little unguarded. He can’t remember, now, why he’d protested when both Uchi and Tegoshi had asked him to come to the Yamanade wrap party- it’s been fun, and now Ryo is pleasantly intoxicated.

“You,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi, who seems to be a lot drunk, hiccups and giggles.

“Me?” He asks, and he leans closer, fumbling and falling into Ryo’s personal space. Ryo doesn’t mind, because Kamenashi smells like women’s perfume and chocolate, and this husky, masculine scent that Ryo always associates with Kamenashi; one that lingers pleasantly where Kamenashi used to stand long after he’s left. Now that fragrance is everywhere, because Kamenashi, in the booth, is half across his chest, looking dizzy and flush. He’s pretty, in an odd sort of way, with his crooked nose and sparkling eyes.

“Yeah,” Ryo says, and his eyes struggle, for a moment, to focus. “You, and how good you are.”

“How good I am?” Kamenashi asks, and his moles look dark against his pale skin in the dim lighting of the bar, a stark contrast that means Ryo can’t look away.

“When I was younger, I thought you weren’t cut out to be an idol,” Ryo says, and he laughs. “Now, I think you might be the best at it of all of us.”

“I am pretty good, huh?” Kamenashi says, and his lips, his pretty, thin lips, shine a bit with gloss and a bit of liquor. “I was meant for this job.”

“You were,” Ryo mumbles, and he involuntarily reaches forward and brushes Kamenashi’s dark bangs from his face, revealing the smooth slope of his forehead. “You really were.”

“Woah, Kame-chan,” Tanaka says, and suddenly Kamenashi is gone, half-sitting and half-standing with one of his arms about Tanaka’s neck, and Ryo feels a bit cold. “Sorry,” Tanaka says to Ryo. “He gets a bit touchy when he’s drunk.” Kamenashi had brought Tanaka along, too, and he’s much less drunk than anyone else at the table.

“It’s okay,” Kamenashi says, and he straightens, lacing his fingers through Tanaka’s, face all lit up. “Ryo doesn’t mind.” He looks up childishly through his lashes, and Ryo finds it difficult to breathe. “Right?”

“No,” Ryo says, because alcohol makes it harder to be grumpy, and because everything is mellow and good and soft right now. “Not at all.”

“All right then,” Tanaka says, and then he’s leading a giggling Kamenashi toward the bathroom, and Ryo is left with Uchi and Tegoshi, and a bunch of other staff that had tagged along as well. Ryo watches them walk away, an uneasy feeling settling in his belly.

“What was that all about?” Tegoshi says, grinning. “The soft side of Ryo-chan, revealed!”

“Ryo is always soft,” Uchi says, and Ryo tries not to turn red with embarrassment.

“Shut it,” Ryo says, but he’s not in the mood to protest, and when Tanaka returns, Kamenashi in tow, Kamenashi falls right back into the spot he vacated, and Ryo’s not in the mood to protest that, either.

*

When Ryo gets home, Kamenashi is sitting by his front door, back to the wall and knees drawn up to his chest. He looks so small, sitting there, and Ryo can see the defeated slump of his shoulders. “Kame?” he asks, and Kame looks up at him, and there’s something terrible in his eyes, that makes Ryo want to… hug him, or something equally ridiculous that isn’t something Ryo normally ever gets the impulse to do.

“I lost Going,” Kame says, and his voice is empty. “I knew it was a possibility but-“

“Shit,” Ryo says, and he fumbles with his keys, opening the door and tugging on Kame’s jacket to move him inside. “That’s complete bullshit.”

“I loved Going,” Kame says, and it hurts, Ryo thinks, to see all that nothing in Kame’s eyes. “I really-“

“I know,” Ryo says, and Kame wanders into his apartment, sitting down robotically on Ryo’s sofa, hands folded neatly in his lap. He looks like a ragdoll. Ryo doesn’t know what to do, so he stands there, in front of Kame, and waits for him to speak.

“What else will I lose?” Kame says, after a few moments of silence. “Ads? Endorsement deals? Will music shows boycott KAT-TUN?” His voice meanders over to the edge of hysterical, and Ryo shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth from the balls of his feet to the heels.

“I don’t know,” Ryo says, and Kame licks his lips, and his hands are folded, so neatly folded, and it’s giving Ryo the creeps. “I don’t know.”

“Me either,” Kame says, and then he seems to realize he’s on Ryo’s couch. “I don’t know why I came here.”

Ryo’s jaw clenches, and he wants to close his eyes, but he doesn’t. “Because I’m your friend,” Ryo says, and Kame exhales.

“You are,” Kame says. “You’re my friend.”

Ryo takes a deep breath, and then he sits down next to Kame on the couch. Now that he’s closer, he can hear the unevenness in Kame’s intakes of air, and he can feel the slight trembling of Kame’s body, almost undetectable to the eye. “You know,” Ryo says, and his throat is so very dry. “I’m really fucked up.”

“You’re fucked up?” Kame says, and he laughs, and it’s this awful, aching sound that seems like it could devour Ryo and Kame both. “Please.”

“So I won’t judge you,” Ryo says, and now he’s twisting his hands in his t-shirt, because finding the words is so hard. “I won’t- It doesn’t matter to me if you want to fall apart.” Ryo knows those aren’t the right words, but they’re all he can find, at the moment, and he looks at Kame, and keeps looking at him until Kame’s gaze meets his own. Kame’s eyes are dark.

“If I want to?” Kame asks, and it’s barely voiced, a husky rasp that sounds like Kame and yet sounds nothing like Kame at all.

“If you have to,” Ryo amends, and then he breaks the gaze, looking down at his t-shirt. He’s stretched the bottom out beyond all recognition, pulling it completely out of shape with his anxious hands. “Less than perfect is good, remember?”

It sounds stupid, and Ryo feels like a complete idiot, but Kame doesn’t snap at him, or smile teasingly like Ryo’s said the wrong thing and he thinks it’s cute. Instead, Kame’s angular nose finds the hollow of Ryo’s neck, and one strong arm wraps around Ryo’s waist, fingers digging into his side hard enough to hurt. “Only with you,” Kame says, and Ryo wraps his arms around Kame’s broad and strong back, in a tentative embrace.

If there’s a wetness on Ryo’s skin, or the muffled sound of tears, well… Ryo doesn’t mention them, because Kame is human and vulnerable in his arms, and Ryo’s heart is beating so loudly he thinks Jin might be able to hear it all the way in America.

“Okay,” Ryo says, and he wishes he had more words, but all he can do is tighten his arms and hope it’s enough.

*

Acting in dramas is something Ryo loves. He loves how exhilarating it is to step into someone else’s shoes for a while, and he doesn’t have to be Ryo Nishikido, the idol. He can be a single dad who dreams of being a French chef, or a man from the future trapped in the past. He can be someone’s no-good boyfriend one minute, and a great husband the next.

All those characters are better than Ryo is at saying things. Ryo would like to think that that’s because there is a script.

*

Ryo wakes up with a mouth that feels like it’s filled with cotton and a head that feels like there are tiny men doing construction behind his eyelids. “Where’s the bus?” he mumbles.

Then Ryo notices he’s got an entire Kamenashi sprawled across him, heavy and warm, and with way too much muscle for Ryo to be remotely comfortable. “I don’t know,” Kame whispers, his nasal voice hoarse. “But it hit me too.”

Ryo lolls his head to the side and takes in the empty glasses and the half-consumed bottle of scotch with a look of loathing. “Why did we drink that much?” Ryo asks, and Kame chuckles. It tickles, the way his chest shakes on top of Ryo’s.

It’s too hot. Kame’s legs are twined with his, and both of them, with their short limbs, fit easily along the couch tangled together like this. “Because it seemed like a good idea at the time?” Kame says, and now he’s turned his head, so that his face is buried in Ryo’s neck. His breath is hot, and Ryo should hate it, like he always hates people in his personal space like this, but instead, despite the fact that his lungs are slowly being crushed, it feels natural.

“You’re as heavy as a baby beluga,” Ryo says, and Kame chuckles again, and it sounds richer this time, like Kame is slowly coming to life.

“You like whales,” Kame says, and Ryo frowns at the smile he can feel pressed into his skin.

“Not human ones,” Ryo says. “Just the cute ones in the ocean.”

“How prejudiced,” Kame says, and he twists, so that he slips to Ryo’s side, between Ryo and the back of the couch, and Ryo takes a grateful breath of air. “Muscle is heavier than fat.”

“I don’t think you’re fat,” Ryo says, and before he can think it through, his hand comes up to stroke down Kame’s arm. “All muscle.”

Kame sucks in a lot of air at once, freezing under Ryo’s exploratory arm, and Ryo’s brain catches up just in time to stop himself from dragging his arm back up.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Kame exhales, shifting again in a way that presses his thigh back against Ryo’s.

“You were being nice,” Kame says jokingly. “You must be hungover. I’ll savor the moment.”

“Usually people are mean when they’re hungover,” Ryo says, and there, now his voice is starting to come back strong.

“Well,” Kame says. “My theory is that when you’re hungover, you forget you’re supposed to be mean.”

“You smell like scotch,” Ryo says, and Kame’s arm moves, sliding along Ryo’s ribs before it comes to rest on Ryo’s stomach, palm flat against his belly. Kame’s hand is so warm, and the subtle pressure there is strange, and makes Ryo feel… nervous, but not like he wants Kame to move.

“So do you,” Kame says. “I wonder if it’s because we drank half a bottle of scotch.”

“That was expensive,” Ryo says, and Kame’s nose is now brushing against his chin.

“Well, if you shave, I’ll buy you breakfast,” Kame replies.

“Why should I shave?” Ryo says. “Also, you know we can’t go get breakfast. You can’t go outside. You’ve still got a few more weeks of house arrest.”

“You should shave because when you don’t it’s terrible,” Kame says, and his socked foot finds Ryo’s calf, and it tickles. “And I’ll give you money and you can go get breakfast.”

“I hate this plan,” Ryo says, and Kame’s hand starts absently drawing patterns into Ryo’s skin, through the thin material of his t-shirt. “It sucks because I have to go outside and I’m hungover.”

“And you have to shave,” Kame says. “And move.”

“And move,” Ryo agrees, and it’s comfortable, so comfortable. If he were more awake, he’d be panicking at how easily he and Kame seem to fit together, even when Ryo is at his most difficult. He doesn’t know what time it is, but Ryo usually finds any time before noon to be unbearable.

But he’s not more awake, so he just relaxes, knowing he’ll have a kink in his spine later from the strange way he’s lying on it, and he doesn’t really care.

“There’s a noise,” Kame says.

“What noise?” Ryo mumbles, eyes heavy as he falls back to sleep. “I don’t hear a noise.”

“It’s your phone,” Kame says expectantly, like he thinks Ryo is going to answer it.

“It’s my day off,” Ryo says. “I don’t answer the phone before two in the afternoon on my days off.”

“But what if it’s important?” Kame insists, and he turns so he’s half-lying on Ryo again, his right leg fitting easily between Ryo’s two, and his hand sneaking into Ryo’s pocket for his mobile. “How on Earth did you sleep with your keys in your pocket?”

“Magic,” Ryo says, and okay, now he hears his phone as Kamenashi pulls it out of his pocket. It’s on vibrate, though, and he’s not quite sure how Kamenashi had heard it over the sound of them talking and the television playing in the background. “Do you have a sixth sense for work?”

“It’s just being professional,” Kame says primly, and Ryo wants to laugh because he’s pretty sure it’s called being anal-retentive. “Answer it.”

“No,” Ryo says. “It’s not two in the afternoon. I know it isn’t. My sixth sense is knowing what hours of the day are ungodly and we haven’t left those hours behind yet.”

“If you don’t answer it, I will,” Kame warns, and Ryo shrugs and squeezes his eyes shut defiantly. “This is Ryo Nishikido’s phone, Kamenashi speaking.”

There’s excited shouts on the other end of the line and oh great, Ryo thinks, it’s Yoko.

“Yes,” Kame says into the phone, laughing. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“What did he want?” Ryo asks, when Kame hangs up the phone and sets it on the coffee table. Kame sighs and collapse onto Ryo’s chest, and now it’s not comfortable- Ryo’s far too awake now not to notice the way his heart is speeding up, and that the places where they’re crushed together feel like they’re on fire.

“He wanted to know why he wasn’t invited to our slumber party,” Kame says with a laugh. “And to tell you the movie soundtrack dropped at number one on the Daily Oricon Ranking Chart.”

“Fuck,” Ryo says. “I’ll never live this down.”

“You should answer your own phone, then.”

“He would have left a voice mail,” Ryo says, but his voice catches, because now Kame’s face is in his face and it’s too close. Kame’s lips are dry from slumber, and his skin looks translucent in the daylight sneaking in through Ryo’s windows, and his irises are the color of chocolate as Ryo stares up at him. “If you’d have been reasonable.”

“I’m not always reasonable,” Kame says, and there’s something there, too, that Ryo can’t read, because Kame is hiding it from him. “Koki tells me that sometimes I can be just like a child.”

“Maybe,” Ryo says. “But maybe we’re all a little like that. Perils of the industry.” Ryo reaches up with one hand and pushes back Kame’s hair. It’s a bit tangled, but Ryo doesn’t care. It’s still like silk between his fingers, and Kame’s eyes slit at the touch, like a pleased cat, or…

“Yes,” Kame says, and he’s gazing at Ryo, and oh, Ryo thinks, Kame is beautiful like this. Kame licks his lips and Ryo’s eyes gravitate toward them.

It’s kind of like being caught in a vortex of Kame, which Ryo has heard is a common problem but it’s never happened to him quite like this. The odd angles of Kame’s face are so appealing, now, and Ryo wants to memorize them, and the laugh lines around his eyes too, because he never wants to forget how Kame looks in this moment.

Ryo lets his hand fall from Kame’s hair, and it seems to snap them both awake from the strange spell of the moment. Then Kame’s up, leaving Ryo alone on the couch. “Maybe I should make breakfast, then. Since we can’t go out.”

Ryo sits up and rubs at his face, trying to shake off the last dregs of sleep. “No,” Ryo says. “You’re a guest. Let me.” It sounds too nice. “You’ll make something weird and artistic and possibly French, so let me do it.”

“We can do it together,” Kame says, and he’s not looking at Ryo at all, and that’s a good thing, because Kame’s profile, in the early morning sunlight, is enough to stop Ryo’s heart, and he thinks it might be written all over his face.

“Okay,” Ryo says.

*

“You are so transparent,” Subaru says gruffly, looking out from the curtain of his hair. “What are you so upset about, anyway?”

“None of your business, Sadako,” Ryo says. “Get back in the TV; I still have seven days.”

“We’re all tired,” Yasu says soothingly as Ohkura devours a box of doughnuts and nods in agreement. “No reason to tell Subaru he looks like the girl from The Ring just because you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Ryo says, and he crosses his arms. “And Subaru is looking at me all creepily.”

“It’ll be suavely and handsomely in a few hours,” Subaru say lowly. “Once the make-up artists are done.”

“The long hair does look better once it’s pushed back,” Ohkura says, licking a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “It makes Arsenal look very smooth and cool.”

“Ace is cooler,” Ryo says. “And he doesn’t have drama-queen hair.”

“You’re just jealous,” Subaru says, and Ryo looks at Subaru like he’s ridiculous, because Ryo would never be jealous of something that high-maintenance.

“Right,” Ryo drawls.

“After the movie, I’m cutting it,” Subaru says, and Ryo shrugs. “But you don’t look tired, Ryo-chan. You look upset.”

“Stop acting like you know me,” Ryo says.

“Who knows you better than us?” Maruyama says, piping up from the other side of the room.

“Just thinking about Jin,” Ryo says. “And KAT-TUN.”

“Ahh, already planning something evil to send to Ueda in light of the new five-member band?” Yoko says, and Ryo scowls. “Try not to make it sound too encouraging or they’ll think you’ve lost your touch.”

“I can’t believe he just bailed like that,” Hina says, and Ryo grunts.

“He has his reasons,” Ryo says. “Don’t talk shit about my friends.”

“You talk enough shit about your friends for all of us,” Yoko says. “So you’re worried about KAT-TUN?”

“It’s a lot of pressure on Kamenashi, don’t you think?” Yasu muses, and Ryo shifts anxiously.

“He’ll take it all, of course,” Ohkura says. (Well, Ryo thinks that’s what he’s said, but the doughnut is muffling his voice.)

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “Because he’s dumb.”

“You’re so cute when you’re worried,” Yoko says, because he likes to live dangerously. Ryo’s too tired to kill him today, though, so Yoko lives to tease another day.

Kamenashi is strong, Ryo thinks. Kamenashi leads without being leader, anyway. Jin leaving is something he’ll recover from. He should call. Just to tell Kamenashi that his eyebrows are looking thinner, or something.

He’s not worried.

“I’m not worried,” Ryo says, but that’s what he always says, and no one ever really believes him.

*

“This is totally not fair,” Jin says into the phone, sounding huffy.

“What’s not fair?” Ryo asks, unlocking his car and dropping his backpack in the passenger seat. He looks at the floor of the passenger seat in dismay, because it’s covered with empty water bottles and Kame will hate that.

He gathers them up in his arms, trapping his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he jogs to the trashcan to dispose of them.

“About Kamenashi,” Jin says, and Ryo wonders if Jin is talking about the media or something else.

“What about him?” Ryo says, and he tries to keep the slight sound of warning out of his voice, but he’s not sure he succeeds because Jin clicks his teeth.

“Another convert to the cult of Kamenashi,” Jin says. “I thought you were my best friend.”

“I’m one of them,” Ryo says. “Just like you’re one of mine.” Ryo surveys the now clean floor and closes the door, walking around to the driver’s side. “Plus, I seem to remember you belonging to the cult for awhile yourself.”

“I was young and he was beautiful,” Jin says, and then he laughs. “Anyway, I meant the new KAT-TUN single.”

“What?” Ryo says, and Jin seems surprised, if the tone of his response is any indication.

“You haven’t heard?” he asks, and Ryo makes an annoyed noise.

“Obviously, dumbass, I haven’t heard, or I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Wow, Eito must be reallllly busy if you can’t keep up with JE gossip,” Jin says.

“How’s being a househusband these days, Jin?” Ryo adjusts his mirrors.

“It’s great,” Jin says. “I hope to gain at least fifteen more pounds in sympathy baby weight.”

“You’re disgusting,” Ryo says. “And probably fat.”

“You should hang out with me and find out,” Jin whines, and Ryo doesn’t respond. “Instead you’re spending all your time with Kamenashi.”

“I’m being a friend,” Ryo says, not sure why he’s defending himself for wanting to hang out with Kamenashi.

“I have a scandal, too,” Jin says.

“That’s old news,” Ryo says. “Kame is the hot-button-issue these days.”

“So I guess you don’t want to know about KAT-TUN, then.”

“Just tell me already,” Ryo says, and tries not to sound impatient. He fastens his seatbelt and puts on his sunglasses.

“Are you in the car?” Jin asks, and Ryo sighs. “Yes, and I have somewhere to be,” Ryo says, strategically not mentioning that it’s Kame he’s picking up from the jimusho, because he doesn’t want Jin to have more ammo to pass along to Yamapi and Matsumoto. Besides, he’d blown off clubbing to stay in with Kame last night, too, and he hadn’t felt guilty about it even as he was showing Kame out the door this morning after breakfast, Kame claiming he needed to take a shower and go into work, even if Ryo was off.

Ryo’d felt a lot of things, is still feeling them, but not guilty. Definitely not.

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “And I’m in a hurry.”

“KAT-TUN has a new single. With Kamenashi.”

“Really?” Ryo says, and it comes out like he’s reacting to a revelation on a drama or something. “But it’s only been about a month since-“

“Right?” Jin says. “Totally unfair. I’m still on hiatus.”

“You’re probably on hiatus for stupid,” Ryo says. “Plus you know this is all Johnny-tactics.”

“That crazy old man,” Jin agrees. “I’ll let you go, since you’re clearly just going to continue insulting me if I stay on the phone.”

“I fail to see the element of surprise,” Ryo says. “This conversation has gone exactly the same as every conversation we’ve had for the past ten-plus years.”

“I haven’t made a joke about how you’re probably sitting on a high-chair to see over the steering wheel, yet?” Jin offers, and Ryo hangs up on him.

A new single for KAT-TUN. It’s good news. He wonders what Kamenashi thinks of it. He’s probably happy, or relieved. That the band isn’t on full-stop. He’s probably worried, too, that his own actions will lead to low sales and lessened popularity.

He calls Kame. “Yo, this is Koki,” Tanaka says, and Ryo clears his throat.

“This is Nishikido. Where’s Kamenashi?” Ryo resists the urge to double-check his phone and make sure he’s called the right number. Of course he has. He doesn’t have Tanaka’s number, and the few times they’ve hung out, Yamapi had been the point of contact, if not Kame himself.

“He’s around, probably checking his eyeliner- hey!” Tanaka yells, and then it’s a breathless Kame on the phone.

“Are you on the way?” he asks, and the giddiness in his voice makes Ryo feel light.

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “I’ll see you in twenty.”

“Great!” Kame says, and Ryo can imagine the look on his face, perfect smile stretching across his face and eyes twinkling with delight. It makes Ryo’s stomach ball up into a fist in his gut, intense and scary and all too overwhelming.

“And congrats,” Ryo says. “On the new single.”

“Thank you,” Kame says, and his relief is palpable, even through the phone line. “It’s not Going, but it’s something.”

*

Ryo remembers the first time Kamenashi had gotten angry with him.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Kamenashi had snapped. “It’s cruel.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” Ryo had said hopelessly in the face of Kamenashi’s wrath. “I just don’t know-“

“It’s not always funny, that you don’t know what to say. That all you can think up off the top of your head is insults.”

“I know,” Ryo said quietly, and he didn’t argue, because Kamenashi was right.

“You’re making it very hard to yell at you,” Kamenashi said crossly. “Where are your smartass remarks?”

“I left them in my teens,” Ryo had said. “If you find them, some of them are pretty useful.”

It broke the mood, just like Ryo had strangely hoped it would, and Kamenashi laughed. “Don’t be so mean to my bandmate, Nishikido. Pretty soon I’ll be twenty and I’ll follow you to the bars to make sure you behave.”

It makes Ryo laugh, and this isn’t so bad.

“Right, right,” Ryo said, and he remembers, very clearly, that he’d thought, then, that Kamenashi was strong.

*

“Oh hey, lover boy,” Ohkura says around a bite of his massive sandwich as Ryo walks into the dressing room. “How was your slumber party this weekend?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Ryo says, and he knows, just knows, he’s a disgusting shade of red, because Ryo can feel the burn of his skin without any aid from a mirror.

“I’ll have to, since you’re already taken,” Ohkura replies quickly, and Ryo wants to hit him.

“He was sad. We were talking. He slept over. That’s it.”

“Is ‘talking’ a euphemism, here?” Maru asks thoughtfully, and Ryo rolls his eyes.

“No. Words were exchanged between two people-“

“If the words were ‘Oh Kame, I loooooooove you’, or ‘More, deeper’, I think talking still counts as a euphemism,” Yoko interrupts, and Ryo gives him the finger.

“He lost Going,” Ryo says, and everyone quiets. The mood becomes more somber, then and Ryo almost feels guilty but he needs a break from the teasing, anyway. “It’s not about- Kame has a lot of other things on his mind, don’t you think?”

The make-up artist is surprised when she walks into the room and they’re all so quiet. “Who died?” she jokes, and Yoko laughs a bit, and the bizarreness of the sound cracks the tension enough to at least allow for scattered conversations. Ryo keeps mostly to himself, but that’s not all that new, because honestly, Ryo’s not that great at regular conversation. Ohkura tries to prod him into talking, but it doesn’t really work, and Ohkura just goes back to eating.

Once the make-up is done, though, and they’re all leaving the room and making their way onto set, where Yuka is waiting, Yasu lingers, sidling up next to Ryo until their elbows brush together. “Hey,” he says, and Ryo looks over to see Yasu smiling brightly.

“What?” He replies, and Yasu elbows him.

“You’re a good friend,” Yasu says. “We tease because we love.”

“You guys always have,” Ryo says resignedly, and Yasu’s grin grows larger. “I wish I wasn’t such an easy target.”

“We’re all an easy target,” Yasu says. “It’s all fair in the end.”

“Says you,” Ryo retorts, and he almost runs a hand through his hair but that will make the stylist angry, so he doesn’t. “It’s always me getting teased.”

“That’s okay, since you tease everyone else outside the band ruthlessly.”

“All part of my plan to convince the world that I am not a gigantic marshmallow.”

“No one’s fooled. He’s lucky to have such a knight in shining armor. Kamenashi, I mean,” Yasu says, and Ryo shoves him and makes gagging noises, and Yasu giggles, and everything goes back to normal.

You doing okay? he texts Kame during lunch.

Are you worried? is the response, followed by fifty tiny little kissy emoticons that make Ryo want to punch himself in the face. Don’t fret. We’re all focused on the single right now.

Not worried, he texts back. I just don’t want to explain anything to anyone if you jump in front of a bus. Plus they’d never get the lipstick and Burberry stain out of the asphalt.

Don’t worry, Kame texts back. I’ll be okay. And he follows it up with more faces and pictures of ice cream and these little arrows that Ryo doesn’t understand.

Text messages cost more if you add all those pictures.

But they make you smile, Kame’s typed, and Ryo realizes, when he tucks his phone in his pocket, that Kame is right.

*

“You need sleep,” Kamenashi says, when he sees Ryo curled up in the corner of a rehearsal room, back to the mirrors and legs pulled up.

“If that isn’t a case of the pot calling the kettle black,” Ryo says, and he winces, because his voice is hoarse- it sounds bad, and he’ll need to sing today. Eito is recording a new album, and FIGHT deserves the best vocals he can give it.

“You sound awful,” Kamenashi adds, and he sits down next to Ryo, close enough that Ryo can feel the heat from his body even if they aren’t touching.

“So do you,” Ryo says. “Like there’s a baby woodland creature stuck in your throat.”

“A squirrel, you think?” Kamenashi asks, seemingly unperturbed by Ryo’s mood. “You know when you’re more tired than I am, something has to give, right?”

“But what?” Ryo asks, leaning his head back until it hits the glass. The ceiling isn’t all that interesting, but it’s something to look at. “What’s got to give? There’s nothing I don’t love doing.”

“But how can you give your best like this?” Kamenashi asks. “Next year is Eito’s big anniversary. Rumor has it that Johnny himself has a bunch of stuff lined up. Kanjani8 is getting more and more popular, and you’ve got a drama, and you’ve got NEWS to worry about as well.”

“Yes,” Ryo says. “And you have KAT-TUN and Going and your gay demon romcom drama-“

“It’s not a romcom,” Kamenashi interrupts. “It’s an inspirational story of a humanoid and his family who are trying to-“

“Seduce an unwitting detective away from his family and into a gay affair with a demon who can’t die?” Ryo says with a grin, and Kamenashi smiles at him. “I’ve seen the previews.”

“So you’re going to be watching it?” He asks, and Ryo grunts.

“Maybe,” he says. “The point is, if you can do it, I can do it.”

“It’s not a competition,” Kamenashi says, and he runs a hand through his hair. The chestnut strands look soft. “You’re overworked.”

“So are you.”

“But I thrive on that,” Kamenashi says. “I don’t think that’s really your thing.”

“Maybe not,” Ryo admits.

“So like I said,” Kamenashi says. “Something’s got to give.”

“I don’t want to give anything up,” Ryo says, and his throat hurts so bad and his eyelids feel heavy.

“We all have to give things up,” Kamenashi says, and his voice is soft. “That’s the way things are. We do things we don’t want to do, and in the end, hopefully it was the right choice.”

“What are you giving up?” Ryo asks, and Kamenashi’s face looks dark, even though they’re in a brightly lit room, and light is reflecting off the mirrors and onto Kamenashi’s soft looking skin. He’s got the beginning of a zit on his left cheek, but Ryo doesn’t really find it distracts from the image.

“You have no idea,” Kamenashi says, and he shivers.

*

It not that either of them have planned it, but Ryo ends up seeing Kame at least two or three times a week. Kame’s got a lot more free time now, and maybe it’s because along with Going, he’s lost all his ad contracts, (Ryo doesn’t ask), but Ryo can see that he doesn’t know what to do with it, almost electric with excess energy as he makes himself at home in Ryo’s kitchen and in Ryo’s car, and in Ryo’s email inbox, and everywhere Ryo goes, really.

He slides into Ryo’s life, weaving into the free slots in Ryo’s schedule before Ryo even realizes it, and Ryo doesn’t quite know how it’s all happened, but he can’t say he minds.

He should mind, especially since he’s started looking at Kame and feeling his pulse speed up in a way he won’t let himself understand, but he doesn’t. Ryo’s always been a little M.

Kame is full of optimism, constantly ready with a bright smile that makes Ryo want to smile back, even when he feels like he’s used up all his smiles for the day on a television camera that doesn’t really smile back.

Ryo’s not sure how he does that. Ryo doesn’t know if he’d be able to stand up to all of this criticism if it were him whose face was plastered across newspapers with derogatory comments, or who had lewd graffiti scrawled across his ads in the subway.

Kame, Ryo thinks, is just a little bit amazing.

“How do you even deal with it?” Ryo asks, and Kame stops, chopsticks held still above the pan where he’s fry-cooking chicken pieces for noodles.

Kame doesn’t ask him for clarification. Kame just clears his throat and shakes his bangs, the ones that have fallen out of his ponytail, away from his eyes. “I just do.”

“But how?” Ryo asks, and he stands up from his seat at the kitchen table and goes into the fridge, pulling out a big bottle of water so he can pour some for them both. “How are you not going crazy?”

“I went crazy a long time ago,” Kame says. “Where the hell am I supposed to go now?” He says it with a laugh, but Ryo doesn’t buy it. He takes two cups down and fills them as he waits for Kame to continue. “I don’t know.”

“Are you going to make a statement?”

“An ‘I’m gay’ statement?” Kame asks, tone high and strained. “No.”

“Oh,” Ryo says. “I just thought…”

“I’m just not going to deny it like it’s something I should be ashamed of. Other people don’t make an ‘I’m straight’ statement, and have a press conference where they talk about how it’s been a struggle to like the opposite sex, do they?”

“I suppose not,” Ryo says. “But you probably would talk about it in your Maquia column, or something.”

“I just want my way to be considered as normal as everyone else’s. I’m not really asking for a circus.”

“Well, you’ve got one,” Ryo says. “Like it or not.”

“I do,” Kame says, and he sounds frustrated and a little on the edge, and Ryo’s probably ruined dinner.

“I’m sorry; maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” Ryo says, because Kame looks anxious, now, and Ryo hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable.

“No, it’s… Well, the things in the paper, and on TV… most of them aren’t true. Like, they never happened, or they’re not me. And as long as I know that, and KAT-TUN knows that, and my family knows that… As long as you know that…”

“Of course I know that,” Ryo snaps. “I’m not stupid.” He rolls his eyes.

“I know,” Kame replied, and then he’s flipping the chicken pieces. Ryo soundlessly passes him the soy sauce, and Kame takes it without fanfare, adding it to the chicken and peppers already in the pan. “You need a wok.”

“What the fuck do I need a wok for?” Ryo replies, and he carefully steps around Kame to get bowls from his cabinet. Ryo doesn’t have a big kitchen, and space is a little tight. Kame turns at the same time, and suddenly they are face to face.

“For stir-fry,” Kame says. “It’s easier and faster in a wok.” Ryo can feel Kame’s breath on his face, and it smells like peppermints, and Ryo remembers that Kame was sucking on the candies earlier, the ones Ryo leaves around the house because Jin smells like an ashtray and because if he doesn’t leave something around Ohkura will start eating the furniture.

“I don’t cook,” Ryo says, softly, and the words are hard to push out, for some reason. Kame’s lips are a little shiny, and Ryo didn’t know that Kame wears lip gloss even when he’s not on camera. It suits him.

“I do,” Kame says, and Ryo’s heart is beating so fast. He steps to the right, quickly, and reaches into the cabinet to cover his blush.

“Okay,” Ryo says. “Remind me later.” Ryo doesn’t really like the way his voice quivers when he speaks again. But it’s okay, he figures, because Kame, too, sounds just a bit breathless, and Ryo thinks Kame’s just implied that he’d like to cook at Ryo’s place more often. Which Ryo likes, maybe, because Kame is good at cooking and for some reason, even though Ryo is an excessive introvert, the way Kame fills the space doesn’t bother him at all.

“I never really noticed you have one too,” Kame says, after a minute, when Ryo’s set out the bowls and sat back down at the kitchen table.

“One what?” Ryo asks, and Kame, who has now dumped the cooked noodles into the pan to mix them with the sauce and meat, looks over his shoulder to catch Ryo’s gaze. There’s a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks, and well, at least Ryo isn’t embarrassed all by himself.

“A mole,” Kame says, and puts a finger to the side of his mouth. Ryo echoes the movement, and it’s true, he has a mole there too.

“Oh,” Ryo says, and wonders if Kame was looking at his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Kame says, and Ryo’s stomach growls, and then they’re both laughing, and the strange tension melts away, like it was never there at all.

Ryo needs to sleep more, that’s all. He thinks he’s losing his mind, just a little, because he keeps thinking Kame looks strangely beautiful standing here in his kitchen with a messy ponytail and an apron and the tiniest of triumphant smiles.

Part Four

Flip the Script (Ryo/Kame, PG-13) [3/4]

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