Chapter Text
Monoma is a bit difficult sometimes. He’s pretty unreadable, in your opinion. One moment, the idol will act like he hates you and the next, he’ll act as if you’re best friends. It gives you whiplash. You’re never quite sure where you stand with him.
It doesn’t help that you’re constantly at odds with one another. That’s just how your relationship works. You tell him to do something, he doesn’t do it, and you argue with him until he gives in and gets it done. It’s common practice, at this point. Even so, Monoma is always looking at you with contempt and taunting in his eyes. Therefore, the first time his expression doesn’t hold those things, you’re pretty surprised.
Today is like any other day, except it’s a bit more relaxed. Monoma doesn’t have much scheduled, thankfully, so you’re able to catch up on emails and scheduling. You’re nearly done with the emails when you realize that there’s a conflict. Ordinarily, you’d resolve it by yourself, but since Monoma isn’t busy, you figure you might as well ask him. You walk across the hall, into his “office,” only to find yourself staring at a camera. You inhale sharply and quickly turn around and exit the room. Unfortunately, you think that you were caught on camera. Dread coils in your chest.
Monoma explains that you’re his manager just as you leave, but you don't stay to hear anything else he says. Instead, you close the door to your own office and put your hands over your face. You just... royally fucked up. Heart racing, you wrap up any drafts and walk out quickly. The rest of your night is spent trying to forget what happened.
The next morning, you’re kind of dreading going to work. When you find yourself standing before the company building, you take a deep breath and steel your nerves before entering. As always, it takes you several minutes to get all the way to your office- what with all of the security measures and identification checks. When you finally make it to Monoma’s designated area, you’re unsurprised to find him splayed out on the couch, looking at his phone.
“You’re trending on Twitter,” Monoma states in lieu of a greeting. He’s entirely nonchalant and relaxed. You, on the other hand, stare at him in disbelief and bewilderment. Upon noticing your confusion, Monoma tells you to open Twitter. Sure enough, the Twitter Trending page shows #Monoma’sManager as a trending tag.
“Why?” you can’t help but ask. Monoma silently hands you his phone. You squint down at it and click on the tag. To your surprise, the first few posts are pictures of you, from Monoma’s stream yesterday. They’re accompanied with memes and various comments, ranging from “AWOOGA” to “i want to marry him,” [to your confusion and distress].
You let out a strangled sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Damn it,” you mutter. Ignoring Monoma’s inquiring gaze, you start to pace about the room. It doesn’t take long for you to lose your patience. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Monoma squints at you, his gaze finally breaking away from his phone. There’s a complex expression on his face. “You didn’t even do anything. It was bound to happen eventually.”
“True,” you acquiesce, turning your attention back down to your phone. You exit out of the trending tag. Just as you’re about to close the application, another tag catches your eye. It reads... #MonoManager ...? You squint at it for a moment. What does that mean?
“I’m guessing you’re looking at the other trending tag, then,” Monoma says, scratching at the back of his neck. He's fidgeting restlessly, to your surprise. You decide to scroll down the tag a bit to try and find out what it means.
One of the top posts is a minute long clip, evidently taken from the stream. Out of curiosity, you decide to play it. You cringe as you see yourself enter the room for a millisecond before quickly leaving. Somehow, the video doesn’t end there. Once you’re gone, Monoma looks at the camera and sighs.
“That’s just my manager,” he explains, bringing the camera close so he can evidently look at the chat messages. Knowing his typical view counts, you’re impressed that he’s able to read anything. Monoma’s eyebrows furrow. “‘He’s pretty.’ Hm, I guess so. ‘Is he nice?’ He’s not insufferable.” The video ends. For a moment, you stare at the black screen, your mind reeling.
“Wow, that’s high praise,” you eventually remark sarcastically. Monoma jolts and looks over at you. He runs a hand through his hair and goes to explain.
“Well—”
“Relax, I’m just joking,” you interject, before he can provide an explanation you don’t want to hear. Actually, you’re not pretty and I just said that to appeal to the fans. You’re very insufferable, honestly. You’re expecting a remark along those lines. You’re definitely not expecting his next statement.
“I was being serious, for the most part,” Monoma remarks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are handsome. And... you’re far from insufferable, if that’s any consolation.” He makes a strange huffing noise at the end of that statement.
“Oh, thanks,” you reply habitually. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Surprisingly, Monoma is the first one to break your eye contact, as he averts his eyes. Is that a blush rising on his cheeks? You raise your eyebrows and turn back to your phone, committing his flustered expression to memory.