Flip the Script (Ryo/Kame, PG-13) [1/4]

[maayacolabackup]

Title: Flip the Script
Pairing: RyoKame
Rating: PG-13 (Foul language and innuendo)
Warnings: None that I can think of…? Canon.
Summary: Ryo sometimes wishes he had a script for everyday life: the right words to say after each major plot-twist.
Notes: Linda, my Fantastic Baby, I hope you enjoy this! (I’ve been a very Bad Girl, but I hope this doesn’t make you Blue, and that after you read it you are still very much Alive.) Much thanks to Peanut Butter (natsukashi_yume), who prevented Jelly from turning in a fic with infinitely more typos.

Originally written for buzzbird for the mini_ryo exchange :)




*

“What?” Ryo says groggily into his phone.

“Wake the fuck up, Nishikido,” Yamapi says, and Ryo blinks twice, not sure he’s heard correctly.

“Did you just curse?” Ryo asks, scratching at the side of his face where his hair is plastered to his skin with sweat. “Why is it so hot in here?”

“Turn on your television,” Yamapi says urgently, and his nasal voice sounds shriller than usual. “Right now! I can’t believe you weren’t already awake and freaking out over this!”

“Calm down,” Ryo says. “You sound like Meisa Kuroki just called you and said ‘oops, I’m pregnant’,” he adds, and he licks at his dry lips in exasperation. “It’s hurting my ears.”

“No time for your sarcasm this morning,” Yamapi says, and now, instead of frantic, he sounds grim. “You might want to check out the news.”

“Okay, okay,” Ryo replies, sitting straight up in bed and scratching at his chin. His skin is dry too, and he wonders if his air conditioner is broken. He’s also got more stubble than usual- yesterday’s laziness, and it itches. “Ugh, why would you wake me up this early on my late day? I only have to go in for a few hours today.”

“It’s not my late day,” Yamapi says. “But I think you need to see what’s been happening.”

“You sound like someone died,” Ryo says, and then pauses. “Oh my god, no one’s died, right?”

“No,” Yamapi says. “No one is dead. Just. Turn on your TV. Or your laptop. Or something. Just. It should be near the top of the headlines.” Yamapi laughs, but it’s a weird, dry sound. “It should be all the headlines, really.”

Ryo drags himself out of bed and scratches at his stomach. “I’m up, I’m up.” Now curiosity is buzzing around in Ryo’s sleep-addled brain, and he wanders into the living room. He pushes all his unread magazines to the floor, because he’s pretty sure his remote is underneath them, and when he finds it, he slumps onto the sofa, one hand holding the remote and the other holding his phone to his ear. “All right, Yamashita, let’s see what this is all about.”

“You’re not going to believe it,” Yamapi says.

“People have been saying that about a lot of things to me lately,” Ryo replies, yawning. His boxers are riding up his thighs, and now instead of hot, he’s cold. “Between Jin and my manager, I’m pretty sure nothing can shock me anymore. Oh, Ryo, you’re not going to believe this but I’m getting married! Oh Ryo, you’re not going to believe this, but you’re going to be in a drama where you are going to be getting married—and playing yourself! Ryo, there’s going to be an Eito Ranger movie! Seriously, Tomo, I’m ready for anything.”

Ryo clicks on the television, and he’s already on the local news channel, and Ryo can feel his jaw go slack as a picture of Kamenashi flashes up on the screen.

Perfect idol Kamenashi caught in a scandal?! is the headline running repeatedly across the bottom of the footage, flickering in bright gold letters.

“Of course,” Ryo says dazedly, “I could be wrong.” Ryo’s throat is dry. “Kamenashi?”

“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “Kamenashi.”

“What happened?” Ryo says. “A summary, please.” The footage on the screen isn’t new. He recognizes it from a recent Panasonic press conference, or something. Kamenashi is smiling charmingly at a female reporter. There’s a sort of dull roar in his ears.

“He was spotted out on a date. Holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. That sort of thing,” Yamapi says. “You know, normal scandal fodder. Except.”

“With a man,” Ryo finishes. It’s like there are rocks in Ryo’s stomach. With a man.“Why was he out with the guy? For a movie? Or is it just a friend of his, or…?” Ryo keeps blinking, because he keeps expecting Kamenashi’s face to disappear, or for the story to change from what’s flashing there in front of him. A career-ending report about one of Johnny’s most prized talents.

“Well,” Yamapi says, and his voice is hesitant, now, and Ryo doesn’t know what that means. “Well, actually, I think he was on a date. Nothing serious, probably, but…”

Oh. Well. That might explain a few things, Ryo thinks. Might make everything a little clearer. Ryo wants to vomit. Instead, he toys with the hem of his boxers, picking at the threads until the hem starts to fall out.

They’re old ones, anyway. Ryo can just throw them away.

“Kamenashi is actually gay?” Ryo tries to say, but it comes out in this embarrassing squeak, and then he clears his throat. “I thought, you know, if he was actually gay, he wouldn’t be so-“

“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “No, he’s…”

“How do you even know this?” Ryo says, pressing his thumb to the remote, switching channels. It’s just more of the same, on the other networks. More old shots of Kamenashi with different incarnations of gay, gay, gay scrawled across his perfectly made up and controlled face, and it makes Ryo feel like he’s going to be sick. “Was this some Shuuji to Akira wrap party revelation or something?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Yamapi says. “But yeah, I knew before.” Yamapi draws the words out, slowly, like he’s thinking. Ryo thinks that Yamapi has a way of talking, sometimes, when he doesn’t want to offend, that makes him sound braindead. “But it was always very much ‘not up for discussion’, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Ryo says. “Because I had no idea he was gay.” Ryo’s used to not knowing things, but this… well. Ryo probably should have been more observant. Ryo’s always missing things.

His hands are shaking.

“Ah,” Yamapi says. “Well…”

“Why would he not tell me?” Ryo asks, almost rhetorically, and Yamapi coughs.

“Maybe because you seem… I don’t know. More straight. I mean, aside from Eito antics you sort of balk at the things the rest of us do as par for the course…”

“So he thinks I have somehow managed to be both homophobic and a Johnny? Doesn’t he know that I’m, like, biffles with you and Jin and Matsumoto?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean-“

“Like, clearly I don’t have a problem with gay-“

“I’m not gay, you ass. And Jin is married now,” Yamapi says. “You’ve made enough jokes about not using condoms and shotgun weddings at his expense to remember that by now.”

“Notice you’ve got nothing to say about Matsumoto-“

“Well, some causes aren’t really worth fighting for,” Yamapi says, and Ryo snorts involuntarily at the weariness in Yamapi’s voice.

“Shirota thinks all causes are ‘Worth Fighting For’,” Ryo says, and it’s fun, he thinks, to pretend that somewhere in Tokyo, Kamenashi isn’t watching this same coverage, watching his career fall apart while Ryo makes dumb jokes about Matsumoto Jun and Shirota Yu.

It’s fun because thinking about Kamenashi, thin brows drawn together, biting down on his thin lower lip and staring at his TV, makes Ryo hate everything. It makes Ryo feel… “You’re trying to distract yourself,” Yamapi says. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ryo says dismissively. “Anyway, the point is, I’m not going to stop being someone’s friend because they’re gay.” Ryo doesn’t want to judge people based on something like that. Ryo doesn’t even want to know about it. It’s confusing and scary and he doesn’t want anything to do with it. At all. Ryo ignores that kind of gossip, and those sorts of rumors.

But now, it’s Kamenashi. This, Ryo thinks, is hitting a little closer to home.

“This doesn’t have to be the end for Kamenashi, right?” Ryo says after a moment of silence, and Yamapi, Ryo can hear, is shifting uncomfortably.

“Well… I don’t know,” Yamapi says. “I hope so. He’s…”

“One of us,” Ryo says. He remembers the way Kamenashi always looks at him with that playful teasing in his eyes. How are you today, Ryo-chan?

“Exactly,” Yamapi says. “It feels…” Ryo knows. He doesn’t need Yamapi to say anything about it.

“He can just deny it, don’t you think? He can just say it’s all a misunderstanding. Or—“

The Breaking News headline flashes, and Ryo stops to listen.

“Something new, it seems,” Yamapi says grimly.

”Kamenashi Kazuya has released a statement to the press,” the reporter says, and her eyes are lit up like a shark’s. Ryo hates the Japanese press, because they always circle like they’re looking for idol blood, and because, more importantly, they often get it. Ryo’s sofa, made of a thick cotton, feels rough against his skin as he shifts, dropping the remote to the floor and pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his free arm around them to secure them.

“Wonder what he’ll say,” Yamapi murmurs, and Ryo’s got his phone clutched in his hand, and his palm is sweating.

”I am not in a relationship at this time,” the reporter reads from a sheet of paper, while the statement pops up on the screen in sterile typed letters. ”And I do not find it necessary to respond to the inquiries about my sexual orientation, as it is no one’s business but my own.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kamenashi,” Ryo says. “That’s all but admitting it.” Ryo swears again, and Yamapi gives a low whistle.

“Not messing around, is he?” Yamapi says.

“He’s so dead,” Ryo replies. “He’s so dead. Johnny is going to kill him and toss his corpse in the East Asian Sea and never file a missing persons report.”

“I just never expected Kame to be so careless,” Yamapi frets. “I called you because I was half-hoping you’d turn on the TV and tell me I’d imagined it in some scathing way.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Ryo says, deadpan. “Instead, I’m awake two hours before I’m supposed to be, sitting on my sofa in my boxers, thinking about Kamenashi-fucking-Kazuya getting outed, outing himself, and the fact that my air-conditioner works in my living room but not in my bedroom. Fuck this shit, Yamashita.”

“I hope he can come back from this,” Yamapi says, and the melancholy in his voice makes the wind leave Ryo’s sails. “I hope this isn’t the end of him.”

“Shit,” Ryo says. “Kame’s supposed to be the next KimuTaku.”

“Not if this gets too out of control,” Yamapi says. “Not if Johnny doesn’t want to keep him after this. I still can’t believe any of this is happening.” Yamapi sighs. “Thanks for answering the phone, Ryo-chan.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Ryo mumbles, and Yamapi laughs, briefly, and Ryo thinks it sounds a bit forced.

Ryo knows how he feels- it’s difficult to watch the screen now, all the hateful things flashing up about Kamenashi. Kamenashi who everyone loves as long as he pretends he is made of plastic. As long as the things he reveals about himself are interesting and not dangerous. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

He hangs up the phone, and then scrolls through his contacts. He stops on Kamenashi’s name, and for a moment, Ryo considers calling him, just to leave a “What the fuck was that press statement, Kamenashi?!” message on Kamenashi’s probably full answering machine, but instead, Ryo closes his phone and then closes his eyes.

“What the actual fuck, Kamenashi?” Ryo says aloud, to his ceiling, but his ceiling is not Kamenashi, and so it cannot answer for him.


*

The first time Ryo meets Kamenashi, he wonders what the hell Kamenashi is doing here.

He’s not a singer, or a dancer, and his face is weird, eyebrows so fluffy they meet in the middle and teeth awkwardly gapped. He’s not like Jin, the boy he’s always hanging out with, who is long and thin and pretty, with a loud laugh and a gorgeous voice that makes Ryo want to harmonize.

He doesn’t even seem, at first, to want to be there at all. He looks and sounds like he’d be more at home on a baseball diamond, and he’s got the hat and jersey to prove it, and Ryo wonders, can’t figure out, why Kamenashi’s doing this, of all things.

But then Ryo talks to him, and he’s squeaky and strange and has a way of looking at people like he’s a rabbit who is afraid he’s going to get run over by an eighteen wheeler, and Ryo, despite himself, is utterly charmed.

Years later, Ryo looks at Kamenashi, and knows that maybe, out of all of them, he was the best suited to become an idol out of all of them, really. Because while Kamenashi is not the best singer, or the best dancer, and his face is still weird… Kamenashi’s managed to turn that weird into devastating, and when he smiles, the whole room lights up with the brightness of it.

*

When Ryo arrives at the jimusho, twenty minutes early with his backpack and his nerves steeled, there are reporters waiting outside. “I don’t have any comments,” Ryo says, pulling his hat lower and jutting out his jaw stubbornly. “Go bug someone else. Someone nicer.”

The reporters don’t expect things from him anyway. Ryo’s made sure of that, with his previous behavior.

Not like Kamenashi, who has a lot further to fall. Ryo wishes he’d been able to find his sunglasses.

Once inside the door, he pulls out his phone and looks down at the glowing screen. Kamenashi’s name is still highlighted, and Ryo’s tempted, again, to call him.

Kamenashi’s probably getting enough calls, Ryo thinks. Probably more than he cares to answer, and probably from people more important to him than Ryo is.

The last time Ryo had called Kamenashi, it had been to invite him to ramen. Kamenashi had declined, claiming he had to shoot a commercial for Kirin Tea, or something. “I’m too busy for lunches,” Kamenashi had said. “Maybe dessert?”

“Maybe,” Ryo had said with a laugh. “I don’t envy you your schedule, Kamenashi.”

“You’ve had it before,” Kamenashi had replied, with a note of amusement that makes his voice sound a bit like silk.

“Exactly,” Ryo had replied. “Anyway, you should call when you get off. I might be free. We haven’t talked in a while.”

“It has been a while,” Kamenashi says. “I must have wanted to keep some of my self-esteem, or something.”

“Maybe,” Ryo had said, and then he’d cleared his throat. “I’d like to see you, anyway,” Ryo had admitted, and Kamenashi had made a surprised noise.

“Okay, okay,” Kamenashi had said, and then he’d paused. “I miss you too.”

It had been weird, because Kamenashi isn’t one of Ryo’s closest friends. He’s just. A casual friend. The sort of guy who Ryo can talk to about pretentious artsy things, and he won’t look at Ryo like Ryo’s grown another head. Jin always gives Ryo a vacant stare, anyway, when Ryo wants to talk about the sad songs he writes or about the weird indie music he’s been listening to lately. Kamenashi leans closer, resting his chin on his palm, and gives Ryo his undivided attention, the same way he does with reporters and co-stars, in that way that makes Ryo feel like whatever he’s saying is fascinating.

Kamenashi is pretty cool, Ryo thinks, because Kamenashi just unapologetically is. But Kamenashi isn’t the sort of friend that Ryo is supposed to miss. Or that’s supposed to miss Ryo.

Ryo had sort of liked that he had, though.

They hadn’t met up for dessert, because Ryo’d gone out clubbing with Jin and Shirota, and had been too busy insulting the huge man about his nose to hear his phone ring. Kamenashi hadn’t left a voicemail.

Ryo closes his phone. He’ll call later, maybe. He’s still not sure how he feels about all this anyway. And no way in hell he knows what he’d say.

Ryo’s got a bit of time, though, so he makes his way toward a back rehearsal room to see if Uchi is about.

He is, sprawled out on the floor, long limbs spread in all directions, his shirt riding up and baring his smooth pale stomach. His belly button ring glints in the light, and Ryo rolls his eyes.

“Your stomach accessory is horrific,” Ryo says as a greeting, and Uchi lolls his head to look at Ryo, eyebrows lifted. He looks uncharacteristically serious, a strange set to his mouth.

“Hush, I’m listening to the Kame-chan’s scandal news,” Uchi says, and Ryo frowns, walking over and turning off the radio, ignoring Uchi’s protests. Uchi is too lazy to get up and stop him, anyway.

“It’s depressing,” Ryo says.

“I know,” Uchi agrees, voice solemn.

“I hate this,” Ryo says. “Kamenashi has worked too hard for this to ruin him.”

“Maybe it won’t?” Uchi says, but his voice doesn’t sound optimistic. Ryo supposes Uchi knows what it feels like to lose it all in one fell swoop. “It’d have been easier if he denied it all. Even if…” Uchi seems to catch himself, flitting his eyes over to Ryo before they return to the radio. His look is a bit guilty, like he’s said something he shouldn’t have.

“Don’t look like that; Yamapi already told me it’s true. About the gay.”

“Oh,” Uchi says. “And…?”

“And what? Am I supposed to care? All I care about is that this causes trouble for everyone else.”

Ryo hasn’t stopped to consider that part of it, really. About how they’ll all be under a closer lens now. But it sounds more distant. Ryo wants distance.

Ryo had hoped, vaguely, he and Kamenashi might do a drama together someday. Ryo plops on the floor next to Uchi, and lets his knee press into Uchi’s side. Uchi grunts and curls toward Ryo. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” Ryo says, and he examines the beds of his fingernails. His cuticles are growing funny, the way they always do when Ohkura convinces him to get a manicure.

“You’re worried about him,” Uchi says, and he rolls completely on his side to look up at Ryo through his lashes. “You, Ryo Nishikido, are worried about Kame-chan.”

“Shut up,” Ryo says. “I’m not worried about him. It just hurts me to watch people being so stupid.”

“Right,” Uchi says, and he smiles a little. “If anyone can get out of this mess, it’s Kamenashi Kazuya,” Uchi says, and he sighs. “He’s been playing with gender for a while now and no one’s said anything.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” Ryo snaps, and it twists in his gut. He feels nauseous. “Gay is not the same as ‘hey guys, look at my sparkly eye-makeup’.”

“But Kame’s got that whole… persona, anyway. Flirtatious. You don’t think people have suspected…”

“Sure they have,” Ryo says, and the way he says it is enough to make Uchi go quiet. Uchi sits up, huffing and puffing melodramatically, and crawls over to the radio like he’s accomplishing some feat. Ryo rolls his eyes again.

Suspecting isn’t the same as knowing. That’s what being a Johnny is all about, in Ryo’s opinion. People can suspect anything, but they’ll keep buying as long as they don’t actually know.

Of course Ryo’s had his suspicions about Kamenashi Kazuya’s sexuality. He’s pretty sure most people have, to be honest, because Kamenashi flirts with men just as frequently as he flirts with women, leaning in and capturing their attention with a slight curl of his lips and a tilt of his shoulders. Kamenashi has never seemed to care what people have between their legs—it has always seemed, to Ryo at least, that Kamenashi is more concerned with whether or not they want him.

Kamenashi, Ryo thinks, wants everyone to want him. Ryo doesn’t quite understand why, but then, he has never been Kamenashi. He has never been in Kamenashi’s shoes.

Kamenashi, with his too-thick eyebrows and awkward face, had been all wrong for an idol. No one had been quite sure why Kamenashi had passed auditions, really. Kamenashi had sloughed all the criticism off like it was nothing, but Ryo did, still does, understand the art of pretending words don’t hurt.

Ryo gets that. What he doesn’t get is what Kamenashi is doing throwing everything he’s gained away on an ambiguous press statement and an unnamed man he kisses on the cheek on a public street. Kamenashi is not like Jin, wild and unpredictable and selfish. Kamenashi is not a child trapped in a man’s body. It doesn’t make sense.

Nothing about this makes sense, because Kamenashi is so smart. So good at all this idol stuff; stuff that Ryo’s never been good at. Kamenashi can say the complete truth but tell someone nothing at all, and all of this is the sort of stuff Kamenashi would deflect so easily, usually…

“Do you think he’s in love?” Ryo asks Uchi, who scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “With that guy in the photos?”

“What?” Uchi asks, mouth bulging with shrimp crackers. “What are you talking about?”

“Kamenashi,” Ryo says. “Do you think he’s in love? And that’s why he’s doing this? Some kind of… proof of faith. Something dumb like that.”

“I don’t know,” Uchi says. “I tried to call him this morning, and he didn’t answer his phone.”

“Ah,” Ryo says. “I was going to call but…” Ryo realizes he’s about to admit the depth of his concern, and quickly closes his mouth. “Never mind.”

“Not worried at all, right?” Uchi asks. “You’re so silly. It’s okay to worry about your friends, Ryo. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“I know that,” Ryo says. “But I’m not worried. It’s his own damn fault.” He stands, and brushes off his jeans. The denim is coarse beneath his fingers. “I have to go.”

“What brings you here, anyway, Papadoru?”

“Recording some voice dubs for the Eito movie,” Ryo says. “The studio is less dumb without you, Pink.”

“Whatever,” Uchi says. “You guys are great without me.” Uchi sounds a little melancholy.

“Hey, Uchi-“

“You’re worried about me, too,” Uchi says, and now his smile is stronger. “You just worry about everyone, don’t you, you big marshmallow?” Ryo bristles, and Uchi chuckles. “Or little marshmallow, maybe.”

“I hate you,” Ryo says. “So very much.”

“Sure you do,” Uchi says, and he stands, stretching his long arms up towards the ceiling. “So why don’t you hate me all the way to the recording rooms. And try not to fret about Kamenashi.”

“If you want,” Ryo says, as he hangs out by the door, “when you talk to Kamenashi, tell him-“

“That you’re worried sick and you’d like him to call you?” Uchi finishes, and Ryo scowls.

“Don’t you dare,” he hisses, and then he feels himself flushing. He clenches his hands into fists and will it away. “Tell him ‘what the fuck is wrong with you, idiot’.”

Uchi nods. “I’ll say it exactly like that,” Uchi says. “But as a warning, after all these years, I’m pretty sure he understands Ryo-speak.”

“Forget it,” Ryo says, and he shoves his hands into his pockets.

He’s three minutes late for recording, but only Yasu is there, anyway, feet up on the couch and scribbling in a notebook.

“Heard about Kamenashi?” is the first thing he asks, when Ryo walks into the studio.

“Who hasn’t,” Ryo says grimly, and Yasu bites his lip anxiously. “Who the hell hasn’t.”

*

The Kansai juniors are visiting the Tokyo juniors again, and Ryo’s met them all before, now, but he still doesn’t know how to talk to them.

Uchi looks up at Ryo with puppy dog eyes, just because he knows Ryo can’t resist. “You should be nicer to Kame!”

“Why?” Ryo asks, and he shoves Uchi’s head off his lap.

“Because you like him, and he doesn’t understand that you make friends by being a grouch,” Uchi replies. “He doesn’t know enough about you to know that.”

“Who says I like him?” Ryo grumbles, and Uchi plops his head back in Ryo’s lap and looks up at him innocently.

“Because I do know you that well,” Uchi says. “And you talk to him like you talk to Yasu.”

“Whatever,” Ryo says, and Uchi chuckles.

“So I’ll tell him you guys should have dinner, then,” Uchi says, and he waves his phone back and forth. “After all, I just got his new phone number.” Uchi taps his chin thoughtfully. “He likes you too.”

“How do you even know that-“ Ryo starts, but then he catches himself, and blushes.

“Aww, you’re sulking, you must really like him.”

“I might like him a little,” Ryo admits, and Uchi winks at him, and Ryo crosses his arms, conveniently blocking Uchi’s face from view. “You suck,” he says, but he’s strangely pleased.

*

Ryo’s throat is sore after he screams for five hours into a mic, recording falling sounds, flying sounds, and fighting sounds at maximum volume.

Yoko cackles evilly the whole time, shouting ‘helpful’ advice, and offering to kick Ryo in the balls to make his screams a bit more real, and Ryo just sighs at his hard life and continues his job.

At the end of it all, he just wants to go home and get some sleep, or drink some hot tea, and try to sleep or something. Forget about this day.

Fuck, he’s worried about Kamenashi.

“You look terrible,” Hina says, patting Ryo on the shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “Everything is fine,” he says, and his stomach rolls.

“You seem… I don’t know. I haven’t seen you this stressed since you left NEWS.”

“I’m not stressed,” Ryo says, and he rubs his eyes. “Just tired. Yamapi called me early this morning. About. You know.”

“Ah,” Hina says, and his tongue licks across his uneven teeth. “You know Kamenashi pretty well, right?”

“Not well enough,” Ryo says, and Hina frowns.

“Are you-“

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Ryo says.

“Everyone’s worried, Ryo. About what this will do. Whether people will be looking more into all our personal lives more because of this. And, of course, that Kamenashi will be okay.”

“Yeah,” Ryo says, and he swallows. “I guess.”

“Well, none of us have anything to hide, really,” Hina says with a small laugh. ”Just go home and get some rest.”

Ryo licks his lips.

“Right,” Ryo says. “Okay.”

Ryo grabs his bag, and leaves with a tired wave. Subaru gives him the finger, probably because he’s jealous that Ryo’d gotten to finish first, and Ohkura is sleeping upside down. Normally, Ryo would take a picture on his cell-phone and send it to Kitayama, because he looks ridiculous, but Ryo can’t even summon the will for that right now. Instead, he just leaves quietly, shuffling in his jeans that have gotten a bit too big and slipping into his shoes at the door.

The elevator is cold, and Ryo’s just wearing a thin t-shirt, so he shivers. He looks up and the vent is flushing out chilly air. Ryo’s not having good luck with air conditioners today.

He’ll feel better when he goes home. It’s just shock, Ryo thinks. It’s just surprise or something, and Ryo’s never been too good with surprises.

Ryo takes a deep breath, and he feels a little better already.

When the elevator doors open on the first floor, Ryo finds himself face to face with Kamenashi, and the settling feelings in his stomach whirl back up like a tornado.

“Ryo,” Kamenashi says, and he looks awful. Not to the untrained eye, maybe, but Ryo knows Kamenashi’s face. His eyes are red and puffy, and his face is free of make-up, and a bit dry at his nose. His moles stand out against the pale of his face, and his hair hangs limply underneath a hat. He looks like it’s a day off. But.

“Kamenashi,” Ryo says, and his hands don’t know what to do with themselves, tugging on the bottom hem of his t-shirt anxiously. Ryo can’t really meet Kamenashi’s gaze, and Kamenashi notices, his shoulders slumping.

Really, Ryo almost can’t recognize the man. He still looks calm and collected, but there’s something wild in his eyes that Ryo’s never seen before. Something a little… broken. Ryo figures watching everything fall apart around you can do that.

“I guess you’ve heard, then,” Kamenashi says, and Ryo purses his lips. “About…”

“Yeah,” Ryo says, and he steps out of the elevator halfway, holding it with one arm, even as he steps into the lobby to stand in front of Kamenashi. “I’m not deaf, dumb, or blind. You’re kind of… the only news, at the moment.”

“And?” Kamenashi asks, and he stiffens, like he’s bracing himself.

“And what?” Ryo asks. “What do you want me to say?” Ryo exhales, and tugs his hat down lower. “That you’re stupid? That you should have denied everything? You already know all that. So what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know,” Kamenashi says, and Ryo finally chances a look up, and Kamenashi catches his eyes, trapping them there with a stare that seems to look into Ryo. “Do you hate me?”

Ryo doesn’t like the look Kamenashi is giving him. It reminds him of when they were kids, and Kamenashi wanted everyone to like him. The Kamenashi Ryo knows now makes everyone like him. The Kamenashi Ryo knows now is stronger than this.

Or maybe he’s like Ryo, and he’s only pretending, because being in this business requires a thicker skin than most people actually have.

“If I hated people for being stupid,” Ryo says, “then I wouldn’t have any friends.”

Kamenashi is surprised into a laugh, the sound coming out of him like a short bark, and he’s looking at Ryo strangely. “I… well, thanks, I guess. That’s one person.”

Ryo doesn’t answer, just turns and looks out toward the doors. Home. He wants to go home. Kamenashi steps past him, and into the elevator that Ryo’s been holding for him. “Don’t be melodramatic,” Ryo says gruffly. “No one hates you.”

“Who knows if I’ll have a job in an hour,” Kame says, and now his laugh is a bit hysterical. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” The doors start to close, and Ryo sticks his arm back between them, wincing at they hit his forearm before they retract.

“Kamenashi. When you’re done… meet me where we usually go for drinks.”

Kamenashi nods, and looks surprised all over again, and Ryo lets the door go, rubbing at his arm. His bag is starting to feel heavy, even though it’s just got Ryo’s laptop and a couple of notebooks inside it.

When the elevator has started its climb upward, to Mary’s office, Ryo steps back and takes a deep breath.

Maybe, he thinks, if he talks to Kamenashi, it’ll be easier. Maybe he’ll stop feeling like he’s going to throw up at any second. Maybe.

Ryo digs his cell-phone out of his pocket, and dials a familiar number.

“Matsumoto,” says a familiar drawl on the other end of the line, and Ryo clicks his teeth.

“It’s Nishikido,” Ryo says. “Calling to cancel our lunch date.”

“Lame,” Matsumoto says. “Ryo-chan, are you doing this because it’s your turn to pay?”

“No,” Ryo says. “I’m going out with Kamenashi.”

“He can’t be seen outside,” Matsumoto says. “He’s going to be ordered into hiding.” Matsumoto sounds a little anxious, and Ryo sighs.

“I know,” Ryo says. “This is my chance to catch him before the house arrest begins.”

“He really fucked up getting caught like that. And that press statement.”

“Yeah,” Ryo says. “He looks…”

“Does he?” Matsumoto says vaguely. “He’s probably disappointed in himself. He’s really put everyone in a difficult position, and he’s too professional for that to sit well with him.”

“I guess,” Ryo says, but he thinks Kamenashi looks more on the verge of a nervous breakdown than like someone who feels he did bad at his job.

But Ryo’s never been Kamenashi. Kamenashi who takes everything so seriously and tries to make the fantasy real for his fans.

“Fine,” Matsumoto says. “Make it up to me later, Ryo-chan.”

“Right,” Ryo replies, and he hangs up the phone.

His hands are trembling, like he’s nervous or something.

It’s just Kamenashi, Ryo thinks. No reason to be nervous.

Although maybe Ryo’s got other reasons to be nervous, even if he can never say them aloud.

*

Ryo’s never been terrific at expressing himself. Even when he was a kid, he was good with words, but being good with words only extended to insults and lightening fast retorts when anyone tried to pick on him. It never meant knowing what to say when Uchi was sad, or knowing how to apologize to Ueda Tatsuya after humiliating him on stage.

So Ryo is good at words, but not at feelings. Half the time, Ryo can’t even tell himself what he’s feeling. It makes it difficult, for Ryo, often, because he’s confused, and he can’t make sense of anything until he writes it down in his notebook.

Sometimes, Ryo thinks that’s why he got into music. With music, at least, it’s like his feelings tiptoe down his fingers and into his guitar, and Ryo, for the three minutes and fifty seconds of a performance, can articulate his emotions perfectly.

Kamenashi is good at words too, but Kamenashi is not like Ryo. Kamenashi knows everything he’s feeling, and picks and chooses what to say, and maybe even what he’ll let himself feel. It’s part of the mystery of him, and it makes Ryo want to take him apart just to see how he works.

He mentions this to Kato once, when they’re both waiting for the others to arrive and Kato laughs and doesn’t bother to look up from his book. “You could,” he says, and then he absently clears his throat. “But I think he’d be too complicated to put back together.”


*

“You still hang out with Kamenashi?” Jin asks, and Ryo doesn’t answer, just keeps tuning his guitar. “I thought you only hung out with him because of me.”

“Not really,” Ryo says, and he’s not sure which question Jin will take that as the answer to, but he means it as a response to the latter. “I like him.”

“I can tell,” Jin says, with a weird inflection in his voice, and Ryo glances up at him for just a moment, before looking back down at his strings. They dig into the flesh of his fingertips, but Ryo doesn’t mind. He’s got the hands of a real musician, which is something he clings to when he thinks maybe he’s become nothing more than an ‘idol’. “I saw your crosstalk.”

“Oh,” Ryo says. “I eat with him sometimes. When I’m feeling adventurous.” Even now, that Jin’s thinking about leaving his band, and Kamenashi’s mouth gets tight when he mentions Jin at all. “His jewelry is dangerous, you know.”

“I read that. That you eat with him,” Jin says. “I just didn’t know before, and you’re one of my best friends.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to get your permission to have other friends,” Ryo says, because he’s not sure why Jin cares if he has a meal with Kazuya Kamenashi every once in awhile. Ryo never really found out what happened between them, but Ryo doubts it was actually a blow up, because then he would have heard everything about it. Instead, most of the time, Jin seems just as perplexed about it as Ryo is, so Ryo doesn’t ask.

“Obviously, Ryo-chan,” Jin says, and then he stretches, and then he cracks his knuckles and it makes Ryo wince. “It doesn’t matter; I was just surprised. It doesn’t seem like you guys would get along.”

“We… do,” Ryo says, and Jin narrows eyes at him a little, and Ryo tries not to flush. “He’s not as simple to understand as you are,” Ryo continues. “But he’s really…”

“Interesting,” Jin says, and nods sagely, like he’s a Kamenashi expert. In some ways, Ryo figures he is. “Yeah, okay.” Jin strums his own guitar absently. “Whatever. You guys probably talk about post-rock and abstract art.”

“I have no interest in abstract art,” Ryo says, but he doesn’t mention anything about the post-rock, because that’s kind of true.


Part Two