Flip the Script (Ryo/Kame, PG-13) [2/4]

[maayacolabackup]

*

The Kamenashi that meets Ryo at the bar is considerably more wrung out than the one he saw earlier, but he still walks with a fluid grace that Ryo will never have.

“You survived,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi looks at him. Ryo doesn’t look away this time, and Kamenashi searches his gaze, and seems satisfied with whatever he finds, because the tense lines around his eyes smooth.

“I need a drink,” Kamenashi says, and Ryo raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you do,” he teases hesitantly. “But just one, lightweight. I don’t have time to carry you home.”

Kamenashi laughs, and Ryo relaxes. “You know me too well,” Kamenashi says, and he signals to the bartender, who pretends like he doesn’t know them, the same way he always does. It’s why they like it here. “Plus, I weigh more than you, these days. You couldn’t even if you tried.”

“I thought I knew you pretty well,” Ryo admits, and Kamenashi presses both of his hands to his face.

“I never meant to lie to you about it,” Kamenashi says. “About being gay. Not too many people know.”

“Yamapi knew. Uchi knew,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi winces. “That makes me think…”

“Both were accidents. I’m not always perfect about…” Kamenashi’s laugh is an awful sound, one that makes Ryo shiver because he’s heard it before. He’d heard it when Jin had told him he was getting married, or when Uchi had called him and told him he was going on hiatus. It’s a sound Ryo associates with everything going wrong, or with things crumbling to useless pieces. “Anyway, I had no choice. But with you-“

“With me?” Ryo prompts. “I guess it was none of my business. I mean, it’s not like we’re that close, right?”

Kamenashi looks at Ryo. “Uchi told me what you said,” Kamenashi tells him. “That you were worried.”

“That’s not what I said,” Ryo growls, and this time Kame’s laugh is real. “I don’t worry about anything but breakfast.”

“I know that’s not what you said,” Kamenashi says. “But your bark is worse than your bite, Ryo.”

“No it’s not,” Ryo says. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a good friend,” Kamenashi says. “I don’t have a lot of friends, but I count you as one of them.”

Ryo looks down at his lap. “I’m angry at you, right now,” Ryo says, and for some reason, it’s like a weight has been lifted. Angry. Is that what it’s been? “What are you thinking?”

The bartender comes back and leaves a second beer in front of Ryo, and a scotch in front of Kame. Kame takes a large sip, closing his eyes as the liquor runs down his throat.

The way he holds his glass is one of those things he does; those things that flirt with feminine. It makes Ryo uncomfortable, because Kamenashi is as feminine as he is masculine, and he looks just as comfortable in a baseball uniform as he does in a dress. Ryo doesn’t think Kamenashi looks good in a dress, but he admits that Kamenashi looks natural, nails lacquered and hair done in a bob like on the episode of Yamanade that Tegoshi made them all watch back when it was airing.

Ryo hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of Kamenashi in those scenes, because there was something seductive about him, even then. Alluring. It had made Ryo squirm. He didn’t watch the rest of the drama.

“Kame’s sure got charisma,” Yamapi had whispered, and Ryo had nodded dumbly before he’d remembered who he was and shot off a sharp remark about Kamenashi’s legs looking a bit hairy even through his pantyhose.

But Ryo’d never really considered whether or not Kamenashi was actually gay. He’d laughed himself sick when he’d seen that Anan cover, Kamenashi’s lips colored red like a tart, hair pulled back and eyes straight toward the camera. It hadn’t been because the pictures were funny. It was more because he couldn’t believe Kame had done it, that ballsy son-of-a-bitch.

Ryo admires the way that Kamenashi is unafraid, mostly. The way Kamenashi does the things he wants to do, pressing all the wrong buttons and spinning it in his favor time and time again.

Kamenashi looks afraid now, though, as he cradles his scotch in his left hand and draws a pattern into the wood of the bar with his right, index finger tracing the grain as he tries to pretend he’s not shaking.

“It’s more complicated than it looks,” Kamenashi says. “There’s a video.”

“A video of what?” Ryo asks. “Shit, Yamapi has a sex tape. It can’t be worse than that.”

“It’s a birthday video,” Kame says. “Not in the dark. Just me, singing happy birthday. A private video. Me saying all these things. About being in love. With the person who took it.”

“Yeah?” Ryo asks, and he takes a long swig of his beer, licking his lips free of the foam afterwards. He absently starts tearing his napkin into strips. “How old is it?”

“Like two years old,” Kamenashi says. “I was in love with him. An indie artist type. Kyoko had introduced us.” He sighs. “Definitely in love. Just… not more than my job. It wasn’t worth- I had to end things to keep from ending other things.”

“Oh,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi laughs bitterly.

“Only now, it will end those other things. No one wants to hire a gay leading man in Japan.”

“You aren’t going to deny it?” Ryo asks, finishing his beer.

“How can I?” Kamenashi says, and Ryo curls his lip.

“We do it all the time,” Ryo says. “It is joke video being exploited. It’s a test-shot from a drama. It doesn’t mean what you think it means. That’s actually a woman in disguise.” Ryo glares at Kamenashi’s drink because he doesn’t want to glare at Kamenashi. Not right now.

“I can’t,” Kamenashi says, and then he squares his shoulders. “I won’t.”

“You… won’t?” Now Ryo looks up at Kamenashi again, and his mouth wears the tiniest frown, like Kamenashi is trying to keep his face impassive but he’s not quite managing it. “Who are you, and where is Kamenashi?”

Kamenashi takes a deep breath. “Being an idol is hard. Being an idol is doing things you don’t like, things you hate, with a smile on your face. Being an idol is never taking a step out of line. Being an idol is giving all your energy to making other people happy, knowing you’re fulfilling their fantasies by giving up your own. I know that.”

“Yeah,” Ryo says, and the way Kamenashi speaks, Ryo believes him. There’s something painfully earnest about Kamenashi, anyway, that Ryo always believes. “So-“

“Being an idol is about giving,” Kamenashi says, and his eyebrows are drawn together like he wants to perfectly articulate his thoughts, but can’t find the words. “Being an idol is all about giving. Love, energy, time, everything. It leaves nothing for ourselves, right?”

“And you’re… tired of that?” Ryo asks, because he’s confused, and he doesn’t think it’s the right answer. It’s a little like how he feels on talk shows, right now, because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin everything, but he doesn’t really have the option to say nothing.

Kamenashi is good at talk shows, Ryo thinks. Kamenashi is good at everything.

“But there’s also a sense of responsibility. I feel… responsible to people who look at me and think I’m different. Who look at me and know I like to wear women’s clothes and make-up and call myself Kazuko sometimes just for fun, and think that’s just part of who I am. I feel responsible to them, because there might be no one else in their life like that; like me.”

“Not sure there’s anyone like you in the world,” Ryo says, and he means it as an insult, but the way it sneaks out from between his lips sounds more affectionate than mean.

“My niece,” Kamenashi says. “You know what she said the other day?” Kamenashi looks over at Ryo, and he looks even paler in the dim light of the bar. “There’s a fag in my math class, Uncle Kazuya.”

Ryo winces.

“Do you know-“ Kamenashi fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. Ryo is surprised because Kamenashi never smokes in public. “Do you know how I felt, hearing that?”

Ryo does, maybe.

“I know where she gets it. She gets it from television. From her friends. She’s not even old enough to know what it means but she knows it’s bad. This whole country is afraid. Afraid of different, and I’m tired of catering to it. I can’t expect my niece to be accepting of something like this if I can’t even own up to it. If I act like it’s something I should be ashamed of.”

And oh, Ryo thinks. Of course Kamenashi has some larger, idealistic reason. Kamenashi has always been a dreamer.

“It couldn’t wait?” Ryo asks. “Until, you know-“

“Who knows how popular I’ll be tomorrow,” Kamenashi says, blowing smoke into the air. Ryo reaches over and takes the cigarette from him, taking a puff himself before passing it back. Kamenashi doesn’t say anything about it, just chuckles. “Well, ‘not-very’, is the answer to that. But you know what I mean. I guess I’m making a statement.”

“You’re always ‘making statements’,” Ryo grumbles, and his belly is lurching, like he’s on the sea. “This is a really big one.”

Of course Kamenashi is being brave. Of course he’s being perfect even when he’s fucking everything up. At least Ryo doesn’t think it’s a stranger next to him anymore. It’s just Kamenashi, stupid, stupid Kamenashi, and Ryo needs another drink.

There’s silence between them, and then Kamenashi shifts.

“You probably think I’m stupid for doing this,” Kamenashi says. “Mary does.”

“I do,” Ryo says. “If you’d denied this, and waited… Later, when you’d become more than an idol…” Ryo scrunches his face. “Why now?”

“I’m tired,” Kamenashi says, and Ryo looks at him; really looks at him, and Ryo’s never heard Kamenashi talk like this before. Kamenashi, who lives to be an idol, who never frowns where someone might see him. “And I think this is right.”

“Oh,” Ryo says.

“You don’t know… I envy you, sometimes.”

“Why?” Ryo asks, and his heartbeat speeds up, because he thinks he knows why, and… “Why envy me?” Ryo is staring at his empty glass, the foam sliding down the sides of the glass and into the well.

“You don’t know what it’s like to deny everything about yourself,” Kamenashi says. “You go out, pick up women, and yeah, it causes an uproar, but it’s not…”

Ryo’s always been a good actor. Better than people give him credit for.

“What do you know?” Ryo says, and there’s a catch in his voice that has Kamenashi narrowing his eyes at him. Ryo’s hand closes around his cup in a grip so tight he’s almost afraid the glass will break between his shaking fingers. The beer, and Kamenashi’s swollen eyes, makes it a little easier to be honest. “You don’t know what other people give up for this, Kamenashi.”

“Ryo-“

“Just because I don’t paint my face like a woman and tell people about how I’d like to wear dresses in Anan magazine, or flirt with men on television, doesn’t mean I don’t-“ It’s like ripping off a band-aid, Ryo thinks. If he says the words all at once, maybe it won’t be so scary to say them. “Just because you don’t know my secrets, doesn’t mean I don’t have any.”

“Oh,” Kamenashi says, and Ryo swallows. “I’m sorry, Ryo; I know that. I guess I’m just saying all sorts of things I shouldn’t, these days.” He laughs, and it’s a little crazy. “Is this how Akanishi feels all the time? It’s kind of exhilarating.”

“Yeah, like getting hit by a bus is exhilarating. Fuck, I need a drink,” Ryo says, echoing Kamenashi from earlier, and he pulls his cap off and runs his hand through his hair. It’s too long, and it’s starting to annoy him. Summer is coming, and soon it’ll stick to the back of his neck and drive him up a wall.

“Still angry?” Kamenashi asks, and there’s a waver in his voice. Ryo hates that. He hates everything.

“Hard to be angry at a man on house-arrest,” Ryo says. “What did Mary say?”

“That she’s going to kill me and toss me into the Sea of Japan,” Kamenashi replies, and he looks at Ryo. “Have you been giving her ideas?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she’d bugged my house,” Ryo says. “Tougher than Johnny’s ever been.”

“I still have a contract,” Kamenashi says. “At least there’s that.”

Ryo doesn’t know how to comfort anyone, let alone Kamenashi. Ryo’s never had to try before. Kamenashi looks so vulnerable, and Ryo’s never seen this side of him.

It makes him feel funny, but mostly, inexplicably, it makes him want to help. “And Kamenashi-“ Ryo starts, but then he clears his throat. “Kame,” he corrects himself, and Kame is looking at him with wide eyes because Ryo’s never called him anything remotely affectionate before. “You’ve still got a friend, too.” Ryo trips over the words, and flushes, embarrassed, after he says them, but he bites his tongue and looks down to keep himself from taking them back. “I guess. As long as you don’t get any lipstick on my face.”

“Thank you,” Kame says, and when Ryo chances a look at Kame through his eyelashes, Kame looks soft. “Ryo-chan.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Ryo says, and shotguns his drink, letting the alcohol slide easily down his throat.

“Oh well,” Kamenashi says, as Ryo gulps, “I guess this is fodder for all those stubborn Akakame fans,” and Ryo spews beer all over the bar.

“You suck, Kame,” Ryo says. “I paid for that beer.”

“Well, then let me buy you another,” Kame says.

*

“Why’d you become an idol, anyway?” Ryo asks, and Kamenashi twists a piece of hair around his index finger. His nails are painted, and he’s wearing a spiked bracelet. He doesn’t look like a man who, in less than twenty-four hours, will be out pitching on the field with the Tokyo Giants. “Why not a baseball player or a doctor or something?”

“My parents chose this life for me, at first,” Kamenashi says, and he slits his eyes thoughtfully. “But later, I chose it for myself.”

“But you didn’t like singing, or dancing,” Ryo says, and it’s not a question so much as it’s a statement.

“No,” Kamenashi agrees. “But one thing I’ve always loved is making other people happy. I love that more than anything else.”

“Even over your own personal freedom?” Ryo asks, and Kame nods, dropping his hands and shaking his hair. It’s greasy, and clumps a bit, but Kamenashi doesn’t seem to mind.

“What do you think?” he says, and his voice sounds like water over stones in a river during spring. Ryo loves the sound of it. “Would you choose something else?”

“No,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi meets his gaze, and there is understanding.

*

Yoko chews with his mouth open. Ryo does sometimes, too, but he tells himself, every time he sees Yoko do it, that he’ll never do it again. “Why am I here again?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you were all mopey-mope at recording today. And now you smell like beer. How was that ‘nap’?”

“It was morning,” Ryo says. “My air conditioner doesn’t work in my bedroom. Kamenashi flushed his career down the toilet. Was there some reason I was supposed to be cheerful?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Yoko says, and then he scrunches up his nose. “Uchi says you’re freaking out about Kamenashi.”

“How has this evolved to freaking out? I made one off-hand comment about being worried and suddenly-“

“You don’t make off-hand comments about being worried, though,” Yoko says. “You mostly just try to project an image of being completely unconcerned. Not that it works, but you try.”

“I hate you,” Ryo says, and maybe he needs some new comebacks. “I hate your face.”

“No you don’t,” Yoko says, and he pats Ryo on the knee consolingly, resting it there. “But see what I mean? Tough guy image.”

“Other people are worried too,” Ryo says, begrudgingly admitting that he might be concerned to Yoko. “Not just me.”

“I didn’t realize you and Kame were close,” Yoko says. “He is a Tokyo kid, after all.” Yoko takes a huge bite of shuumai and then tilts his head suspiciously. “Are you a spy?”

“No,” Ryo says, swatting at Yoko’s hand on his knee and scowling. “I just… Kamenashi is someone I can talk to. About… lots of things.”

Kamenashi has a way of making Ryo feel like the things he’s saying aren’t dumb. Ryo likes that, because he’s constantly nervous about saying the wrong thing or revealing too much. With Kame, he doesn’t have to worry about things like that, because Kame will just giggle and clap his hands and say something equally silly to break the mood, setting Ryo at ease as easily as he does everyone else.

“Ah,” Yoko says, and then he smiles to himself. “I guess you’re both a lot alike.”

“What?” Ryo says, and then shoves a gyoza in his own mouth because he’s spoken too loud.

“You’re both so awkward. Kame dealt with it by becoming super social, and you dealt with it by becoming super silent. But you’re both really, really awkward people.”

“Thanks,” Ryo says around his food, and then he cringes when little bits of filling spit out. He swallows, and then glowers. “You’re so nice.”

“I’m not being mean,” Yoko says. “I’m just not surprised you guys get along.”

“Because we’re both awkward.” Ryo stabs a gyoza with his chopstick, and Yoko snickers.

“Basically,” Yoko says. “Should I give you guys a couple-name now?”

“You need a hobby,” Ryo snaps, and the gyoza falls apart underneath Ryo’s angry jabs. “Like lighting matches in gas stations or something. Something dangerous.”

“Now who’s mean?” Yoko says, and he flicks Ryo in the face. “I’m just teasing.”

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “Kame is…” Kame is comfortable, Ryo thinks, even when he does all these weird things that Ryo doesn’t get, and wears all that make-up and ladies’ perfume. Even then, he is comfortable, like Ryo’s favorite pair of sweatpants, only much more expensive and high-maintenance.

Yoko hums and nods. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Ryo thinks about the way Kamenashi had straightened his shoulders and said he wouldn’t deny anything, eyes steadfastly looking forward. He thinks about the way Kamenashi had talked about his niece. His reasons.

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “I think so.”

*

“You don’t call me Kame,” Kamenashi says, and Ryo shakes his head. “Do you not consider me a friend?”

“It’s not that,” Ryo says, but he doesn’t explain what it is. Instead he looks down at his shoes. His left shoe-lace is knotted, like he’s five. That’s okay, because half the time, Ryo feels five, because he doesn’t know enough words to say what he’s thinking. “I don’t feel like I-“ And then he scowls, because he doesn’t want to say any more.

It’s just that Ryo doesn’t want to assume, with Kamenashi, the way everyone is always assuming. People press into Kamenashi’s personal space and into his life because they think they know everything about him, when really all they know is what he’s chosen to show; all these carefully selected details that say nothing. Ryo doesn’t want to do that to Kamenashi. He doesn’t want to be yet another person who treats Kamenashi like he’s a two dimensional character.

Kame stares at him like he’s from another planet for a moment, and Ryo looks to the side, eyes focusing on Maru, who is chatting with Nakamaru about something using big, exaggerated gestures. It’s easier, Ryo thinks, for other people to have conversations. Sometimes he’s jealous.

“Well, if you ever want to start calling me Kame,” Kamenashi says. “I won’t read anything into it, Ryo.”

“Never call me Ryo-chan,” Ryo responds shortly, and Kamenashi, Ryo thinks, is trying to stifle a laugh. It makes Ryo smile a little too, just because Kamenashi looks kind of cute like that, despite everything.

“Noted,” Kamenashi says, and then he starts talking about an audition, and Ryo gratefully lets himself get washed to sea in the soothing tide of Kamenashi’s smile.

*

The press is brutal. Ryo had known they would be, but it’s different to think about it in his head than it is to see it and hear it when it’s actually happening.

It’s different than it was with Jin. With Jin, people were surprised, but not really. Jin’s character is no stranger to assassination, and Jin’s reputation was already low enough that he didn’t have that far to fall when the news dropped that Akanishi had done something crazy again.

Ryo can remember seeing all these ridiculous made-up things on the news, and rolling his eyes, because they were outlandish, and no one really believed them anyway.

But with Kame, it is so much worse. The media refuses to let the story die, and Ryo knows, every time he turns on his TV, something about Kame and speculation about his sexuality will undoubtedly come up, and Ryo will feel that queasy feeling in his stomach, itching to call Kamenashi and make sure he’s not watching the news. To make sure he’s okay, like he’s got to protect Kamenashi, which is ridiculous, because Kamenashi can protect himself.

Ryo’s gotten bad press before, too, but it was nothing like this: Crude innuendo from people who’d loved Kame only a week ago, and people coming forward that they’d ‘known all along that Kamenashi was gay’. It makes Ryo want to throw things. Sharp things. Things that explode.

Instead, he calls Yamapi.

“What the fuck is wrong with people?” Ryo hisses at Yamapi on the phone, and Yamapi sighs.

“He has to have known this was coming,” Yamapi says. “When he decided not to outright deny it.”

“He’s a good idol,” Ryo says, and he yanks at his hair, tugging until it hurts. “This is awful.”

“It is,” Yamapi agrees. “But there’s not too much that we can do about it, right?”

Johnny calls all of Eito in, one day, while they’re recording some extra things for the movie, and before Ryo has to go to Papadoru filming. They all stand like naughty school-children in the principal’s office, as Johnny stares at them all with a gimlet eye.

“Any more scandals I should know about?” Johnny says to them, and Ryo winces. “I’m getting too old for this, boys.”

Ryo thinks Johnny’s getting to old for most things, really, but maybe he shouldn’t say anything.

“No sir,” Maruyama says, and Yoko nods his agreement. They all quickly follow suit, variations of “No,” and “Absolutely not, sir,” filling the room in an ungainly chorus.

“If reporters ask you about Kamenashi, you are to say ‘no comment’,” Mary says waspishly. “No. Comment. Got it?”

“Yes,” they all say, and Ryo feels like a kid. This is nothing new. They’d gotten the same speech less than six months ago, and it makes Ryo feel just as guilty as it did then, like he’s standing in the doorway with an umbrella watching his friend get soaked in the rain, unable to move and offer shelter.

“Kamenashi has brought this on himself,” Mary adds, maybe because she can see the stubborn set of Ryo’s mouth. “We’ll fix it.”

Ryo’s not sure how you can ‘fix’ Kame preferring men to women, but he’s no stranger to Johnny’s spin-machine. He’s just not sure if Kamenashi is willing to play along.

So Ryo turns off his television, and his radio, and listens to music on his laptop in his apartment, and tries to start reading Kato’s book for the fifteenth time so that he can write the man a scathing email full of all the things Ryo thinks are dumb. Kato will probably write back smiley faces, but Ryo likes to think maybe he’s crying on the inside.

When Ryo’s doorbell rings, it surprises him.

He pads over to the door, bare feet cold on the wood floor, and pauses for just a moment to pull down at the legs of his boxers, covering a bit more of his thighs, before he answers.

He’s not expecting Kamenashi. He’s not expecting anyone, really, but he’s especially not expecting Kamenashi. “You’re not wearing pants,” Kamenashi says, and waits. Ryo moves aside and lets Kamenashi in. “What if I’d been the paparazzi?”

“Wasn’t expecting guests,” Ryo says defensively, and crosses his arms across his stomach, fingers digging into the cotton of his tank shirt. “And the paparazzi don’t know where I live. Are you allowed to leave your house? Because the paparazzi do know where you live.”

“No,” Kame says, and he chuckles. “I’m all sorts of rebel, lately, aren’t I?” Kame puffs out his cheeks. “I skipped this phase when I was a teenager.”

“Whatever,” Ryo says, and Kame looks around curiously.

“It’s such a mess,” Kame says. “Last time I was here, it was so clean.” His eyes take in the magazines littering the floor, where Ryo had hastily thrown them, and the t-shirts strewn about the room, on the back of the couch and across the lamps.

“Because I knew you were coming, then,” Ryo snaps, and then scratches his nose. “Everyone knows you’re all, you know, OCD and shit, so I wanted you to feel-“ Ryo closes his mouth quickly, but Kame smiles at him anyway.

“You’re sweet,” Kame says, and he draws out the word sweet in a way that makes Ryo blush even more, and Kame’s smile is teasingly triumphant. “And so easily embarrassed.”

“I’m never being nice to you again,” Ryo vows, and Kame’s grin grows even larger.

“It’s like you speak in code,” Kame says. “I feel like I’m an interpreter. I’m not usually very good at languages, so it’s kind of fun.” Kame reaches forward and taps Ryo on the nose. “So that means ‘make yourself at home’, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryo says. “Can I get you some water?” Ryo shifts his weight from foot to foot as he watches Kame, who suddenly seems less comfortable and more withdrawn, playful smile falling from his face and shoulders going tight.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” Kame says instead of answering Ryo’s query. “I wasn’t even sure you’d be home.”

“That’s why they invented cellular phones,” Ryo says, picking his up from the coffee table and waving it around. “It’s this technology that allows you to communicate with another person without actually physically seeing them. It’s pretty cool, actually, because you can do all sorts of things. Like call and check if someone is home.”

Ryo expects Kame to snort, and make that mildly amused face he tends to adopt when Ryo is unnecessarily sarcastic. But he doesn’t. Instead he bites down on his lip.

“Yes,” Kame says. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ryo mumbles, and he decides they’ll both need a glass of water anyway. He walks into the kitchen and Kame follows. “I would have said yes, so you just saved me the time it would have taken me to swear at my phone for existing, and now I have an excuse for not having cleaned. So fix your face.”

Ryo watches Kame out of the corner of his eye as he pours the water, and feels a twinkle of satisfaction as Kame’s shoulders loosen. “Thank you,” Kame says. “I guess I’m just going a little crazy.”

“I wonder why?” Ryo says, and takes a big gulp of his water as he hands Kame his. Kame takes a moment to amusedly study the cup, a plastic one with whales all over it that Ryo’s older brother had given him as part of a set when he first had to move to Tokyo. His thumb, nail shimmering with clear polish, traces one of the whales as the corners of his mouth twitch. “Don’t laugh, they were a gift.”

Even if they hadn’t been, Ryo loves them, because they’re cute, and Ryo likes cute things, whether he’ll admit it aloud or not. Plus, Ryo loves whales.

“They suit you,” Kame says, and Ryo searches for anything negative, but Kamenashi seems sincere. “I just wanted to talk.” His gaze flickers up and catches Ryo’s, and Ryo’s stomach feels weird again, kind of tense, like he’s about to go on stage.

“Why me, anyway?” Ryo asks. “Why not Tanaka? I thought you guys were close.” Kamenashi pauses to consider, and Ryo walks past him and back into the living room, grabbing t-shirts as he walks and dropping them on the floor behind the sofa.

“It’s… different,” Kame says, and he sighs. “They’ve all said it’s okay but…”

“But,” Ryo says. “You, for some reason, think that I’m more okay with things than they are?”

“You’ve got no emotional stake in this,” Kame says. “And between us has always been… comfortable.”

It’s strange to hear Kame say it, even if it’s what he’s always thought. “Yeah,” Ryo says, and then there’s this tense silence that belies Kame’s statement, and then Ryo feels laughter bubbling up and he can’t stop it.

Kame jumps when Ryo laughs, and then they’re both laughing, Kame’s water sloshing out and splashing his shirt before he can set it down, both of them collapsing onto the couch with giggles. Kame’s distinctive laugh, with the tiny little claps and stomps, just makes Ryo laugh harder.

When the laughter dies down, the strange tension in the room is gone, and Kame’s shirt has a big wet splotch down the front.

“Oh my god,” Ryo says. “Yoko was right.”

“What?” Kame says, stretching his arms above his head and baring his lean belly to Ryo’s eyes. The muscles move beneath the skin, and Ryo’s mouth feels dry enough that he reaches forward and grabs his water.

“He told me that we probably get along so well because we’re both so unbelievably awkward,” Ryo tells him, and that almost sets Kame off again. Ryo likes the way his shoulders shiver with laughter.

“Maybe,” Kame says. “But I haven’t laughed all week.” Kame runs a hand through his hair, and he looks so natural, like this. Clean and free. “So awkward or not, I came to the right place, after all.”

“I like your hair like that,” Ryo says, before he can stop himself. “Without any product.”

Kame looks at him curiously, and Ryo’s always surprised by how big Kame’s eyes can look, focusing in on him like that. Ryo bites down on his lower lip and considers. “Really?”

“You look…” Ryo can feel himself reddening under Kame’s heavy gaze. “I don’t know. More… human. Less untouchable. Less perfect.”

“Less perfect is good?” Kame asks, confused. He’s still absently rubbing at his shirt, but he seems to have reminded himself, internally, that it’s just water and it won’t ruin a t-shirt, even a really expensive one. He keeps licking his lips, and when he looks up, Ryo nods.

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “Less perfect is good.”

“Oh,” Kame says, and there’s a slight dusting of pink across his cheeks that makes Ryo’s heart clench. “Alright.”

“Want to watch a movie?” Ryo offers, and Kame blinks twice.

“I can’t,” he says. “I have to-“ He stops, and then suddenly he’s leaning back on the couch, and spreading his legs to take up more room. “Never mind,” he says. “I have plenty of time, these days. No work, you see.” His knee brushes Ryo’s, and it’s happened hundreds of times before, because they’ve known each other since they were kids and they’ve been jammed together in small spaces and shared sofas at parties when Kame found Ryo and rescued him from floundering conversations with smooth introductions and a well placed grin. But for some reason, this time, it sends a tiny spark up Ryo’s leg and makes him… feel things. Or something.

“I’m sorry,” Ryo says, and there’s no sarcasm, just words, offered with as much sincerity as he’s got. It seems to be enough.

“Okay,” Kame says. “A movie.”

“The great thing about movies,” Ryo says, “is that while you’re watching them, you can take a break from the real world.”

“That sounds nice,” Kame whispers, and in the dimming daylight, his face is strangely shadowed. “That sounds wonderful.”

Ryo puts on the movie, one of Jin’s; it’s an action flick with subtitles that’s got Bruce Willis, and he knows it’s not Kame’s usual type of viewing material, but he doesn’t have any movies about boring events or historical martyrs, so it’ll have to do. Kame doesn’t complain, and Ryo doesn’t bother to turn on the lights.

About an hour into the film, Kame’s head falls onto Ryo’s shoulder, and Ryo stiffens. He peers down, and Kame is awake, eyes still glued to the television screen. He’s stiff too, like he thinks Ryo will push him away.

Ryo swallows, and then tentatively wraps his arm around Kame’s shoulder.

Kame exhales, and presses his cheek to Ryo’s chest, and Ryo doesn’t know why but his heart is beating a mile a minute.

But it’s not uncomfortable, because it’s Kame, whose hair is soft where it tickles at Ryo’s mouth. It’s just Kame, and while they watch the movie, maybe both of them can pretend there’s no scandal, and they’re just two friends watching a movie.

One thing is for sure, though, Ryo thinks, as Kame rests his hand flat on Ryo’s thigh for balance, and that’s that Kame is definitely wrong—Ryo most definitely has an emotional stake in this, even if he doesn’t know why it feels so huge.

*

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ryo says. They’re at a club, and Kamenashi looks out of place here. It’s Ryo’s turn to come to the rescue, and Kamenashi accepts it gratefully, letting Ryo guide him outside, and asking if Ryo has any cigarettes when they get out into the cool April air.

Kamenashi has a hard time at clubs. He’s probably only here because of Yamapi’s birthday.

“Of course I do,” Kamenashi says. “I’ve been friends with Jin for years, and he is constantly smoking. If anything, I’ve been smoking since he was old enough to do it, via secondhand emissions.” He tugs his leather jacket a little tighter, and Ryo wishes he’d thought ahead to even bring his jacket outside at all. “I just don’t think it’s something that needs to be photographed, unless I’m in a drama.” Kamenashi chuckles. “After all, it’ll kill us all, you know?”

“Sure,” Ryo says. “There are worse ways to go, though.”

“I suppose,” Kame says. “I hope the kids I work with never start.”

“Always a role-model, Kamenashi,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi laughs. Ryo turns to look at him, then, because his laugh sounds a bit bitter, but Kamenashi is smiling.

“It’s my job,” Kamenashi says. “I’m a professional idol.”

“So am I,” Ryo says, and shivers, before he rubs his hands up and down his arms.

“You should go back inside<” Kamenashi says, and Ryo shakes his head.

“No, I’m fine,” Ryo says. “Feeling better?”

“How did you know I wasn’t feeling fine before?” Kamenashi asks, and Ryo blinks twice, and looks up at the sky. He can’t see any stars, because Tokyo is gross and smoggy. It’s a bit better in Osaka, Ryo thinks. A bit.

“Trust me, I know what discomfort looks like,” Ryo says, and it surprises a giggle out of Kamenashi.

“I guess you do,” Kamenashi says. “It’s probably because it’s what you feel when you’re put on the spot and you have no idea what to say.”

“Can you teach me?” Ryo jokes, and Kamenashi takes a deep inhale of smoke, and then opens his mouth and lets it all out at once, like a sigh of smoke.

“It’s all about feeling a lot, and letting only a little of it leak out,” Kamenashi says. “Don’t be like that.” Kamenashi blinks twice, then drops the cigarette, putting it out with the toe of his shoe. They’re leather, and probably cost more than Ryo has spent on anything that isn’t his car or his flat. “The way you are is cute, too.”

“I’m not cute,” Ryo mumbles, but he’s not upset, because the tension has finally bled out from Kamenashi’s shoulders.

“Besides,” Kamenashi says. “Sometimes I get scared that one day, the way I am in interviews will become the way I am in real life. All the real things trapped inside.”

“I hope not,” Ryo blurts out, and Kamenashi licks his lips, tongue peeking out and wetting the lower one in that unconscious way he probably doesn’t even notice. Ryo always notices. It’s part of what makes Kamenashi… Kamenashi. “The real you…” Bushy eyebrows and a laugh that’s too loud and a love of baseball that Ryo doesn’t even get, and a poet’s spirit that Ryo gets all too well. “He’s… pretty cool. Cool enough.”

“I used to think you hated me,” Kamenashi says, after a moment of silence.

“Who says I don’t?” Ryo says, and he looks at the asphalt, studying Kamenashi’s discarded cigarette with feigned interest.

“You don’t,” Kamenashi says firmly, sure of himself, and Ryo feels a pleasant bubbling of happiness in his stomach, and his lips stretch into a smile.

*

Ryo’s expecting to be asked about Kame long before he is—he’s doing a lot of promotion, for the movie, and for his drama, appearing on all kinds of news programs.

Maybe it’s the false sense of security that pulls the truth out of him, because he’s spent so long waiting for the question that he’s convinced himself that they won’t ask it.

They do, though, and Ryo, despite being disgustingly prepared to smoothly say ‘no comment,’ somehow isn’t ready.

“Nishikido, we’ve all heard about Kamenashi’s recent scandal. Do you have anything to say on the matter?”

“He’s good at what he does, and you should mind your own goddamn business,” Ryo says, and the host looks at him with her mouth curved into an ‘o’, and Ryo can hear Maru facepalm behind him. Oops. “And… uh. No comment.”

As they clear the stage, Hina grabs him by the upper arm and raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to get it from Johnny,” Hina says.

“I said ‘no comment’,” Ryo grumbles weakly, and the humiliation is sinking in, sneaking up on Ryo from behind and strangling him.

“That’s what you should tell him later, in his office,” Maru says, coming up on Ryo’s right. “I’m sure that’ll go over well. ‘But sir, I said no comment’.” He says it in a shrill voice that sounds nothing like Ryo, but it makes Yoko snicker.

“Well, I hope you’re happy,” Subaru mumbles. “Now we can have rumors about you and Kamenashi to make our lives a little more exciting.” Subaru shakes his head, but it does nothing to get his bangs out of his eyes. “Because we aren’t busy enough right now, obviously.”

“What?” Ryo says, and it’s hot, his shirt sticking to his back with sweat caused by the studio lights. Ryo presses the ‘down’ button on the elevator, anxious to get to the van they all came here together in, so he can lean back against the seat and run through the whole embarrassing fifteen seconds over and over again in his head.

“Now can I make you guys a couple name?” Yoko asks, and Ryo elbows him at the same time Ohkura does, and they pile into the elevator. “Ouch! That hurt!”

“I hate you,” Ryo says, and Yoko leers.

“But you looooooooove Kame-chan, right? Nishinashi? Kamekido?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Ryo says, and he musses his own hair with both hands in frustration.

Eito piles into the van, and Ryo gets a phone call. “Nishikido,” he says, without checking whom the caller is, because he’s agitated and tense.

“Ryo,” says a nasal voice, and Ryo almost drops his phone in surprise.

“Hi,” Ryo says, puffing out his cheeks. Yoko looks unnecessarily interested, and Ryo presses the phone closer to his year, pretending like that’ll make all the sound waves travel into his ear alone. “What’s up?”

“Saw the news show,” Kame says, and Ryo nervously scrunches his face up. “I saw what you said.”

“Oh,” Ryo says, and his stomach flops at the disbelief in Kame’s voice.

“It’s Kamenashi,” Yoko whispers, and Maruyama chuckles and Yasu wiggles his fingers.

“I know Johnny said not to say anything,” Kame says. “He told me he was going to tell you guys that, and he definitely did.”

“Are you mad?” Ryo asks, and he hates the way his voice wavers.

“No!” Kame says, and it’s loud, and definite, and it soothes the creeping fear that had curled its fingers around Ryo’s lungs. “I… appreciate it. I didn’t expect it, but I appreciate it.”

“It’s true,” Ryo says, and looks out the window, pretending like the other guys aren’t staring at him, trying to make out Kame’s voice on the other end of the line. The highway is racing past, and Ryo can’t really make out anything. It doesn’t matter, because all his attention is on the way Kame’s breath sounds in his ear. “It’s nobody’s business.”

“But you didn’t have to say it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryo says, and he feels warm.

When he hangs up, Yoko’s scribbling in Ryo’s notebook.

“What are you doing with that?” Ryo yelps, snatching it out of Yoko’s hands as Yoko cackles. “That’s mine.”

Yoko has scribbled obnoxious shit like ‘Mrs. Kamenashi’ all over Ryo’s notebook, and he can see evidence of Yasu’s flower designs in the left-hand corner. “Just giving you a head start on what you’re going to undoubtedly be doing in your meeting with Johnny later today when he calls you in to chastise you,” Ohkura says, and Ryo looks at him with betrayed eyes.

“It’s not like that,” Ryo says. “I’m being a friend.” He looks down at all the random combinations of his name and Kame’s in the notebook, and it makes him feel like a teenager, for some reason. He slams the notebook shut. “And why am I the girl?”

“Oh come on,” Subaru says from the back of the van, where Ryo’d thought he was sleeping. “Really?”

Ryo crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes to the world, and tries not to think about the way Kame’s grateful, pleased voice had sounded so rich in his ears.

*

“Stop it,” Ryo says, and Kamenashi looks up from his tea, a smile firmly fixed on his face. “You look creepy.”

“What do you mean?” Kamenashi asks pleasantly, and Ryo hates it.

“Just… stop smiling,” Ryo says, and it’s not what he means, but it sort of is, because Kamenashi’s smile isn’t real, and it looks gross and plastic and not like Kamenashi at all. “Just stop. This isn’t an interview. I’m not a stranger.”

“Okay,” Kamenashi says, and his face relaxes into something apathetic and maybe a bit melancholy. “The harmonies sound terrible without Jin. We have to rearrange all the songs, but there’s no time.”

“For now,” Ryo says. “They sound terrible for now. You don’t have time, for now.” He takes a sip of tea and it scalds his tongue. “KAT-TUN is a group. There are still five of you.”

“We don’t need Jin,” Kamenashi says, and there’s something resolute in his voice that makes Ryo wonder if Kamenashi needs anyone at all. “We do need full sounding songs.”

“And you’ll figure it out,” Ryo says. “But until then, brood and drink your tea.” Ryo scratches at his ear. “I have faith in you. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, dad,” Kamenashi says sarcastically, and when he catches Ryo’s gaze again, the twinkle in his eye is real.



Part Three