Chapter Text
Their fans seem to believe something is going on between Hiiragi and Mafuyu—something sweet and forbidden, a toe-curling secret.
Shizusumi couldn't care less.
It's just a rumor, after all, a completely natural thing when the vocalists of two popular bands are overly close. They go on trips together, hang out on the weekends, and play video games when Hiiragi is bored. In rare moments of kindness, when Mafuyu praises Hiiragi's singing or songwriting, fans flood their social media, calling them precious and claiming they'd look the cutest as a couple. The fact that they're childhood friends is just a cherry on top of piled-up evidence of a long-running love affair.
And Shizusumi couldn't care less because, well, it's just Mafuyu. Mafuyu's not a threat.
No one is a threat.
Or at least that's what he used to think. Now, he's not so sure.
“Mr. Kaji, can I ask you one more thing?”
As soon as Given's drummer is alone, Hiiragi shoots out toward him like from a catapult. He passes everyone, stops in the last second—too close, way too close—and, with an innocent smile, lowers his voice to a whisper, quiet enough for Shizusumi not to hear him.
This thing, whatever it is, has been happening way too often lately. Hiiragi constantly has questions for Kaji, and while Kaji seemed confused by his interest at first, he now welcomes it with open arms. Sometimes, he even encourages these endless conversations about topics Shizusumi knows nothing about, conversations that fade away when he approaches.
It's quite suspicious, actually.
And while Shizusumi doesn't get jealous easily—he's not once in his life accused Hiiragi of being overly friendly with others, even when Hiiragi was knowingly pushing boundaries—he can't silence the quiet voice at the back of his mind anymore.
Maybe Akihiko Kaji is a threat. Maybe he is going to steal Hiiragi. Maybe...
“Mr. Kaji, can I get your number? It would be easier that way.”
Hiiragi's voice echoes through the room, and Shizusumi can only tighten his hold on a plastic cup.
They start texting each other. A lot.
For three days straight, Hiiragi's eyes are glued to his phone screen, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard, typing in one message after the other. When he isn't texting Given's drummer, he's looking up things online that he doesn't even bother mentioning to Shizusumi.
“It's that thing I was talking about with Mr. Kaji...” he explains absentmindedly only when asked. Shizusumi grits his teeth.
“What thing?”
Hiiragi doesn't answer, so he repeats, a bit more annoyed, “What thing?”
“Hm?”
Slowly, Hiiragi raises his head and blinks as if finally waking up from a nap. As if he wasn't even listening to Shizusumi.
“That thing... Ah. It's nothing.”
When Shizusumi tries to take a look at his phone, Hiiragi quickly moves away.
“Can you wait for me? I'll just do this and...” Without finishing, he walks away, fingers already typing in another message. He doesn't come back for over half an hour.
Apparently, one of Mafuyu's close friends used to date Kaji. So did Uenoyama's sister. Shizusumi finds out about it on the same day Hiiragi drops the official Mr. Kaji, and for the first time calls the drummer by his name.
Akihiko this, Akihiko that... It's hard not to get the impression that Hiiragi is being stolen from him. Just like Mafuyu's friend, Uenoyama's sister, and Given's bassist. Seriously, isn't that too many people interested in one man? Kaji isn't all that special. Back in the long forgotten past, Shizusumi used to categorize him as just an alright guy, but now his flaws are obvious and countless, from his strange hair color, his strange way of holding his drumsticks, to his strange laugh.
Comparison—unfortunately—also comes naturally. What do the two of them have in common? What does he have that Shizusumi doesn't? They're both tall, hell, they both play the drums... Is that where Hiiragi's preferences begin and end? That can't be true. Hiiragi is too delicate a person for such superficiality, but fear still tingles under Shizusumi's skin.
“Is everything okay, Shizu?”
Hiiragi's question brings him back to earth like a blow with a club, brutal and surprising. He's definitely been carried away by dark thoughts that have no reflection in reality. How stupid of him, yet how typical.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” he starts to say, but when he turns to Hiiragi, who's leaning against the balcony door, he freezes.
Hiiragi has his phone in his hands; even from this distance, Shizusumi can see messages open on it, a lot of them.
“Shizu?”
It's irrational, but fear and anger go to his head, and suddenly all he sees is red.
“Who are you talking with?”
Hiiragi's gaze also shifts to the phone, but only for a moment. His fingers tighten slightly around the case, and the screen darkens, locked.
“Ah, no one important.”
It only adds more fuel to a fire in Shizusumi's heart, which is already burning alive. He shouldn't, but...
“Who, Hiiragi?”
“I told you, no one important.”
He puts his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, the way one would try to put away and conceal a lie. So he really does have something to hide. Or is he too stupid to understand what it looks like?
That one thought makes Shizusumi recoil like he's been scalded, makes him back all the way to the railing of their small balcony. The cold barrier digs into his hips.
He called Hiiragi stupid. In his thoughts, but he did. He shouldn't have. Hiiragi isn't stupid, maybe just naive. Pure and innocent. It would break his heart if he could read minds; he would cry.
God, Shizusumi is the worst. But...
“Shizu? What's going on?”
“Who are you talking with?”
This time, his voice sounds cold, even though he doesn't want it to. He's no longer angry at Hiiragi, but rather at himself, at this overwhelming inability to cope with emotions and at the fact that he dared to think of Hiiragi in a disrespectful way.
But Hiiragi doesn't know that, so he blinks quickly in confusion.
“With Akihiko,” he finally says, so unaware that this is another nail in Shizusumi's coffin, that now he is rubbing salt into too fresh wounds.
Shizusumi can't hold it back any longer. It's all too much.
“You talk with him too often.”
“Huh?”
“I said, you talk with him too often.”
“Oh, no, I don't think so—”
“Why don't you go out and date him, huh?”
How stupid to get so angry over something this small. How pathetic. And it doesn't even feel good, but it's too late, Shizusumi said it, and there's no way to take it back.
A hundred slaps to the face wouldn't be enough of a punishment, but he doesn't even get to lynch himself in his thoughts, because Hiiragi sucks in a breath. Sharply.
And then he bursts out laughing.
“Wait— what— what was that?” he asks between gasps, unable to properly catch air. His laugh is light, spring-like, the most beautiful sound in the world, and when Shizusumi looks up at him, his cheeks are blushing red and his eyes sparkle with joy.
“Why— why would I ever?”
He laughs and laughs and laughs and looks so captivating Shizusumi's heart clenches.
“What the hell are you talking about, Shizu? Are you getting sick? Do you have a fever?”
When he finally stops and reaches for Shizusumi with open arms, everything feels right again. That moment of weakness is forgiven, and anger and fear are not eating Shizusumi alive anymore.
But they nibble at his heart with a low hum that never fully goes away.
Nothing gets easier after that.
In fact, the mess in Shizusumi's head only gets worse because, on top of anger and fear, now there's also guilt. A calm conversation seems like the only possible remedy, but it doesn't sound like something they do, and before Shizusumi can muster the courage to break his habits, his time is up.
“I hate it when you leave,” Hiiragi mumbles, pressed into Shizusumi's body, wrapping his arms tightly around his stomach, like an especially clingy koala or a teddy bear created only for cuddling. He always gets like this when Shizusumi has to leave for longer because of an acting gig. “Quit this job, you'll be my sugar baby.”
It's all jokes, he would never tell Shizusumi to leave acting, so this clinginess is enjoyable. For a moment, it's almost like nothing has changed between them lately.
And yet it keeps getting worse. Since Shizusumi's outburst on the balcony, Hiiragi talks less about Kaji, but he still texts him nonstop. It must be his roundabout way of making sure Shizusumi doesn't get jealous, but it only makes Shizusumi feel more insecure. He has less and less control over the situation. The fear that Hiiragi will run away from him follows his every step, be it in Japan or miles away, overseas, when he's alone with his thoughts.
It's horrible, borderline destructive. And it only gets worse, because two days after he leaves, their phone calls become shorter, and it's not Shizusumi's fault.
Well, not entirely Shizusumi's fault. Hiiragi doesn't want to end conversations any sooner, but he speaks less, slower, reluctantly, mixes up words as if he were just learning them, and the gaps he leaves can't be made up for in any way. Shizusumi doesn't even try. After all, it's yet another proof that Hiiragi is running away from him.
So when, after four days of half-silent conversations, he suggests that they temporarily limit themselves to texting, Shizusumi simply accepts it. After all, he loves Hiiragi too much to force him to stay in touch.
Filming takes over a month, and he barely makes it back to Japan in time for Hiiragi's birthday. That, of course, manages to make him feel even worse. What kind of a boyfriend almost misses their partner's birthday because of work? Not a good one. Not someone like Kaji. Not someone deserving of Hiiragi's affections.
Despite this, Hiiragi promises to pick him up from the airport, and the eagerness in his voice—because he's talking again, he's talking even more than he used to—gives Shizusumi hope that the rough patch is already behind them.
That hope, unfortunately, is short-lived. It dies as soon as their eyes meet.
Something is wrong. Really, really wrong. Hiiragi runs closer, yet doesn't greet him with a wide smile and enthusiastic chatter. Instead, he offers a shy look and a disturbingly intense embrace, and his face is flushed, almost as vibrant red as sun-born strawberries.
Either he's sick or he's going to break up with Shizusumi. There's nothing in between, and the dichotomy of these two options doesn't actually make sense, but somehow, Shizusumi is sure.
So he opens his mouth.
“Hiiragi, I'm sorry—”
“No, wait, me first.”
He's not allowed to add anything else, because Hiiragi is already tearing his mask off, and cupping his hands around his mouth to hide it from passerbys, like a child ready to play a telephone game.
“I can't wait any longer,” he says, with overwhelming excitement, then parts his lips even further.
There's something twinkling in his mouth. A tongue piercing, Shizusumi realizes belatedly, and his brain goes haywire.