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There was just no way - absolutely none - that a man could look so good in a plain tshirt and loose ripped jeans?! But then, the man in question was (his) Ryuji, so there's that. He was extremely biased, shamelessly so, but as always nothing showed up on the poker face that belonged to Tosaka Hiroomi. But for the slight twitch that was playing up upon his eyelid as he was watching the jump and spin that revealed a peek of white underwear at the bum rip. Isn't that kind of outfit fucking illegal? Not allowed on stage?
Wouldn't he have loved to go to the concert live and watch his lover of almost 12 years rock it out on stage, to support him in person... but his schedule was just as jam packed as Ryuji's, so he couldn't do anything but sit at his couch, shaving the lint off his jumper while he had been waiting for 100 years for the livestream to fucking start already, please?
He swept the back of his fingers over his cheekbone, just over the little mole at the bottom of his eye. To be honest... watching his soulmate give his all out there was difficult in some places. With each of those challenging vocal techniques and high notes, his heart felt like it was being squeezed into a vice. Ryuji's condition wasn't at its greatest, and asides from the person himself, who would know better but for his other half...
Nonetheless, seeing him in HD, giving out his very soul and flashing that brilliant smile, Omi had that convoluted mixture of pride, envy, love, and hope... all emulsifying into one, deep within his chest. His adam's apple bobbled slightly as he tried to swallow all of that down. At the end of it all, he let out the shakiest breath, hands clenching and unclenching as he wished to do nothing more but to run over immediately and pull the man into his embrace.
But still he waited.
And another two hours later he finally picked up his phone, speedialing his number, hoping against hope that his lover would pick up.
"I watched you. Every second."
There was a pause at the end of the line before a velvety, slightly hoarse laugh could be heard; a sound that made him ache with fondness and longing.
"Somehow that makes me feel embarrassed, because it's Omi."
He couldn't help it, the smile that spread quickly upon his face - once again he sat down heavily in the couch, clutching the phone tight to his ear as though if he pressed hard enough, he might be able to fool himself into thinking that Ryuji was speaking into his ear right beside him.
"Well, there's more embarrassing things that I'd love to do with you right now..."
"Omi, are you serious!?"
If his sly words got such a brilliant laugh out of his partner, then he wouldn't mind acting a bit sleazy at all. Those melodic giggles were doing a number to his heart.
"I'm half serious... I haven't seen you in forever."
"I know... I miss you too."
Unfortunately, everything was so chaotic that they couldn't even make plans to meet without something coming up last minute. He had to settle for these phone calls, the photographs, the 'good morning' tweets that were really for everybody but still spoke to him with a special sweetness like at least one stroke of that hiragana had been especially saved for him... oh, of course he wouldn't tell Ryuji that.
He didn't keep him for too long, knowing that Ryuji must be exhausted from the show, the meet and greets and reporting that came after. Just like the song lovingly illustrated under that elegant hand, he would give him a goodnight kiss through the phone, reminding him to spray some lavender on his pillow, and pray that his love would have a good rest tonight - held securely in his arms, even if it were only in dreams.