Chapter Text
You could be strange.
You could be theatrical.
You could bleed onstage and scream about God and death and longing.
But there was one quiet clause everyone in the industry signed without reading aloud: you could not belong to anyone.
Shinya understood that better than most.
For eighteen years he had lived beneath stage lights; powdered, styled, draped in lace and leather. His image was delicacy by design. Sometimes a gothic princess, sometimes distant nobility, sometimes the ideal soft boyfriend. He moved fluidly through personas shaped not only by his own tastes, but by what stylists and designers deemed appealing. He was meant to look desirable. Almost available to any eyes that lingered long enough.
That was part of the fantasy.
Romantic relationships were rarely encouraged. More often, they were quietly forbidden. Some companies wrote it plainly into contracts; others simply demanded discretion so absolute it bordered on erasure. Even the suggestion of a sexuality that strayed from heteronormativity was discouraged.
‘You’re gay? That’s fine. Just say you like women regardless. You don’t want to alienate your female fans.’
The message was always the same: desire must be marketable. For many artists, maintaining that sterile illusion became exhausting, like a performance layered atop the performance.
For Shinya, at first, it hadn’t felt like much of a burden.
In the early years it was easy. While others tumbled headfirst into messy flings or one night stands, Shinya found he simply didn’t ache for it the same way. He assumed he was built differently. A late bloomer, or perhaps not blooming at all.
And for a while that was fine.
It wasn’t until his late twenties that the hunger arrived— it wasn't quite romantic or sweeping, but a physical desire that needed to be satiated. A quiet curiosity about touch, about being wanted in a way that had nothing to do with ticket sales or fan letters written in careful loops.
He didn't want to be dramatic or reckless, so he approached it thoughtfully as he would any other puzzle.
At first it wasn’t romance he struggled to find, but compatibility.
He required a particular kind of understanding, one that extended beyond conversation or falter in private. He hadn’t gone looking for it in his early years since he hadn’t even known where such understanding might exist. It wasn’t until his late twenties, when solitude began to feel heavier, that he searched in earnest.
That search brought him to Shinjuku Ni-Chome, a district alive with all the colors on the spectrum. It was there where he found someone suitable and prepared. Still, he approached the arrangement like a man crossing thin ice, with careful steps and measured trust, ready to retreat at the first crack.
And for a while, it worked.
The relationship itself had been unremarkable, and that was the most insulting part. It hadn't been scandalous or cinematic in any sense; he was someone that presented himself as kind, charming, and safe— or so Shinya believed.
It was nothing catastrophic. It began as a one-sided argument about Shinya’s relentless schedule; such as tour dates stacked back-to-back, late nights in recording studios, rehearsals that bled into the night. Somehow, that irritation curdled into jealousy, much to Shinya’s surprise. Fingers pointed and accusations followed that he must have had something going on with the red-haired guitarist, or perhaps the pretty-boy bassist. Then came the familiar strain of loving someone who lived half his life beneath stage lights.
It became draining and Shinya knew it was time to cut the cord.
It was only fair. He wouldn’t waste this man’s time on a life that would never bend. He sat him down one afternoon and spoke plainly about his schedule and the reality of his priorities.
His band life would always come first.
This was his life’s dream— a shared dream he and the rest of Dir en Grey had shed their blood, sweat, and tears to achieve.
“Forgive me if I haven’t made that clear from the beginning,” Shinya said, his gaze drifting somewhere just past the man’s shoulder to avoid direct contact. Not from shame or guilt, but he had simply never been good at holding eye contact for long. “But I don’t want to change it. I think it’s best we end this. That way, we’re both free to fulfill our needs.”
At first there was silence. Silence so toxic it corroded into something more sinister the longer it went on. But then—
“You know how much your image is worth, right?”
He didn’t shout. There was no venom in his voice. The words were delivered almost gently. Factual, even.
Shinya’s eyes never met with theirs. He stayed silent for a moment longer. Not out of fear or hesitation, but from cold disappointment. “I understand.” He nods his head once, his tone light but neutral as it always is. He stood, smoothing the back of his slacks with delicate precision, and picked up his sunglasses. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
He didn’t.
Nor did the other man ever hear from him again.
After rehearsal one evening, Kaoru approached him near the studio entrance. Shinya had been waiting there, posture composed but faintly stiff, as though bracing for something. “Did you talk to them?” His voice friendly and light.
Shinya nodded. His eyes flickered up briefly before retreating again. “He threatened me.”
Whatever Die and Toshiya had been laughing about died mid-sentence. Both straightened instinctively, careful not to stare too openly in case it fractured whatever fragile resolve Shinya had mustered. Kyo, who had been studying the scuffed toes of his boots, looked up sharply like an alerted pup.
Kaoru did not react outwardly. He rarely did. His expression remained steady and measured, but Die caught the tightening in his shoulders.
Something darkened in Kaoru’s eyes.
Finally after a moment, Kaoru quickly glances over his shoulder, before he guides Shinya back into the building.
“Let’s talk.”
The aftermath was quiet. Settlements were negotiated. A nondisclosure agreement was made. Money exchanged. Documents were signed. It cost more than Shinya liked to admit— financially and otherwise. Management had stepped in with tight smiles and even tighter warnings.
Nothing leaked.
Nothing trended.
The public will never know how close Dir en Grey’s beloved drummer had come to becoming a headline.
But Shinya learned something that year: romantic relationships were a risk and imbalance and vulnerability, in his position, was a currency too valuable to spend.
Something had shifted with Shinya. It wasn’t obvious. Not enough for management to comment or for performances to suffer.
Just enough for it to nag at Die.
At first it was small things: Shinya lingering a little too long over his water bottle, pushing food around in his bento instead of eating it, or shrugging off lunch breaks with a soft, “I’m fine.”
Okay.
Die didn’t say anything at first. He understood heartbreak well enough to recognize the shape of it. Shinya just had the added misfortune of being famous and having his reputation and job threatened by a vindictive ex. Die had his own history with messes like that. He wasn’t about to be the pot calling the kettle black.
So he let Shinya be.
But as the days passed and the skipped meals and self isolation continued, concern settled heavier in Die’s chest. Mourning was one thing, but fading away was another.
Maybe it was time to interfere.
Rehearsal paused for lunch. Die handed his guitar off to his technician and dusted his hands together dramatically. “Oh man,” he said loudly, stretching his arms overhead. “I didn’t bring anything for lunch. What am I gonna do?”
Toshiya smiled immediately, knowing what that tone implied.
Kaoru glanced over, unimpressed. “There’s a konbini down the street,” Kaoru offered mildly as he finished tuning. “I grabbed something there before coming in.”
“Ahh, that’s a good idea.” Die turned, eyes landing exactly where he intended. “Yamo-chan. Let’s go to the konbini.”
Shinya didn’t look up from adjusting his snare. “You go ahead.”
Die crossed the room in a few easy, catlike strides and lightly tapped his fingers against a cymbal in a teasing little drumroll. “What if I get lost? Come with me.” He slipped around the kit the second Shinya glanced up from beneath his bangs and scooped him up in a loose but unyielding hold. “Pleeeeeaaase—” He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t aiming for a tickle attack. His fingers found ribs, waist, anywhere he knew would draw a reaction.
“W-wait—!” Shinya gasped between reluctant giggles, trying to swat him away.
“Dont make me get Toshiya in here.” Die warned with a grin.
As if summoned, the bassist straightened immediately, stepping closer with both hands raised. “I’m ready for deployment.”
“I give up!” Shinya wheezed. Both attackers withdrew instantly.
“Well,” Kaoru said dryly, failing to hide his smirk, “he didn’t say he’d go. He just said he gave up.”
“Ah–” both Die and Toshiya lifted their hands in unison.
“I’ll go!” Shinya covered his mouth, cheeks flushed, legs a little unsteady as he stood.
Die and Toshiya broke into quiet laughter. “Do you want anything while we’re there?” Die asked, casually sliding an arm around Shinya’s shoulders.
Toshiya hummed aloud in thought, “I brought a beef bowl from home, but maybe a kale smoothie if you can?”
“Bulking again?” Kyo called lazily from his makeshift bed of strategically arranged chairs.
“Yeah.” Toshiya responds sheepishly.
“Okay.” Die glanced toward the vocalist, “Kyo?”
“Iced coffee!” He trills in his best English, “And curry bread.”
Kaoru declined with a gentle wave.
“Got it.” Die tightened his hold just slightly. “We’ll be back.” They shuffled out together, nearly waddling from how firmly Die had Shinya tucked against his side.
The walk to the nearby konbini was short, accompanied by the hum of traffic and Die’s occasional commentary about absolutely nothing; a broken vending machine, a suspicious pigeon, the weather behaving rudely.
Inside the fluorescent wash of Seven & i Holdings’ convenience store, rows of neatly packaged meals gleamed under white lights as office workers and students flowed in and out with efficient purpose.
Die grabbed a basket and steered toward the prepared foods, nodding apologetically as he sidestepped an employee restocking shelves. Shinya reappeared at his side with Kyo’s curry bread and a medium ice cup, placing them carefully into the basket.
“What looks good to you?” Die gestures at the selection. “There’s a tonkatsu omelet rice bowl, dan dan noodles… oh, a carbonara one.” He picked that one for himself. “Maybe those are too heavy for you.” Die chuckles, “How about an egg sandwich? Ah— or a tuna onigiri?”
Shinya chuckles softly at Die’s sunny insistence, but he leaned in to carefully examine the selection. “Onigiri sounds fine…” he mutters thoughtfully while he looks at the fillings. “Beef sukiyaki…” he plucks one from the shelf. “I don’t like mayo.”
“Anything else?” Die glances between Shinya and the shelves.
Shinya remains quiet for a moment before taking a second one.
Die snickers, “Another one.” He watched Shinya drop them into the handbasket and moved on. He picks up Toshiya’s kale smoothie and stops to look at the other options, “Shinya, you should take a smoothie, too. To help you drum.” Die picks one out before Shinya answers. A banana strawberry mix.
Shinya didn’t comment.
“Hey, let's get this Coolish ice cream for Kyo’s coffee. Even if he doesn’t use it he can just eat it like that, right?”
Shinya hums with a soft nod.
“What?” Die nudged him gently when he saw that barely contained spark in his eyes. “You want one too?”
Shinya lowers his eyes and smiles shyly.
“Yeah, you do.” A second Coolish went into the basket. Die nodded his head to the cash registers and the two stood shoulder to shoulder in line. Shinya curiously looks toward the counter at the hot food display and notes the meat buns available.
Once at the counter, the store associate handled each item with care and placed them in the bag one by one. Shinya flicked his eyes toward the buns again, debating.
Die at him, “What’s up?”
“Uh–” Shinya raised his hand. The cashier glanced up at Shinya. “Can I have one pizza bun?”
“Ah, of course!” She kindly steps aside to retrieve it for him.
Shinya averts his eyes from Die, “Kyo likes them.”
After paying, they stepped aside to blend Toshiya’s smoothie and brew Kyo’s coffee. Die prepared Shinya’s next and handed it over without ceremony. Die felt lighter now. He didn’t comment when Shinya eagerly took a sip of his Coolish topped smoothie. Instead, Die just tightened his arm around his shoulder as they headed back.
Eventually, the tension eased and Shinya was able to function again. For a short while, Toshiya and Die restrained themselves. The teasing subsided, softened into gentler touches and watchful glances, but their mercy was limited.
Teasing Shinya was their love language after all.
Toshiya’s hallway collisions grew suspiciously frequent. What began as light shoulder bumps escalated into deliberate, perfectly timed hip-checks. “Oops!” he would chirp innocently after tightly booty-bumping the unsuspecting drummer.
Toshiya rarely worked alone. More than once, Die happened to be walking behind Shinya when this occurred, catching him effortlessly as he stumbled backward.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa— watch it, clumsy!” Die would laugh, arms lingering around Shinya as he waddled forward with him still half-trapped in his hold.
Kaoru’s methods were subtler but no less intentional. He preferred psychological warfare. Appearing soundlessly around corners or materializing in doorways, standing exactly where Shinya would least expect him. Eventually, Shinya began cautiously peeking around corners before turning them— checking for Kaorus.
It made Kaoru laugh delightedly every time.
Kyo never teased, but behaved more like an annoyingly affectionate brother. He sat beside Shinya during breaks, swiping vegetables from his bento, and occasionally placing a piece of pickled ginger on Shinya’s rice just to watch him quietly remove it. Something neither of them ate.
Despite the bumping, fondling, lurking, and hovering— Shinya never once asked them to stop. He couldn’t imagine his relationship with them any other way.
Rehearsal for Lunatic Fest had run longer than expected.
By the time they filtered out of the building, the sky had already turned heavy and grey. Within seconds, rain came down in sudden, unapologetic sheets, soaking the asphalt quickly. Shinya paused near the back entrance under the shallow overhang, watching the rain with distant calculation. He hadn’t brought an umbrella and the hoodie he wore would soak through in minutes.
Die approached Shinya after saying his goodbyes to Kaoru and Toshiya, dusting rain droplets from his black hair and wiping water from his brows. “Hope it doesn’t rain like this during the festival.” he comments with a smile, “I hate rain. I wouldn’t want fans to get soaked waiting to get in, either.”
Shinya hums and brushes his hair out of his eyes to look up at the darkening sky. “I only like getting wet in the shower.” He shook his head when a water droplet unexpectedly hit his eyelash. “Uwah–” Shinya carefully rubbed his eye.
Die chuckled softly and pushed his hand in his pocket to dig out his keys, “Need a ride?” he gestures to his car parked in the lot. “I brought my car today.”
Shinya considers it for a moment. He looked at the puddles forming on the concrete before side glancing at Die, “You can drive?”
Die wrapped his arm around Shinya’s shoulder to put him in a playful headlock, “Who do you think drove the mom van when we first started??” Die giggles.
“Kaoru—” Shinya wheezed out a giggle.
“It wasn't just Kaoru, you know!” he leads Shinya toward his car in a light jog, “Hurry, hurry, hurry!”
The rain swallowed them the moment they left the overhang. Die instinctively moved closer, angling his body slightly so he took the brunt of it. By the time they reached the car, Die’s shoulder was noticeably wetter than Shinya’s. The two nearly threw themselves inside Die’s car with gentle laughter as rain drummed against the roof in a steady rhythm.
Die turned on the car and adjusted the volume and air conditioner that would be comfortable for the young drummer. And for a minute, neither of them spoke. Die was first focused on getting out of the lot in this weather and merging into traffic without crashing. Shinya watched momentarily before he allowed his gaze to drift out the window.
“You’ve been looking better,” Die said finally, eyes still on the road.
The comment took Shinya by surprise, flicking his eyes toward Die without moving his head. “I’ve looked worse?”
Die chuckles. “Never.” He remained silent for a moment, looking for the words. “I know what heartbreak looks like. Stress, anger, depression— all that eats away at you in ways you don't realize.” Die says quietly, “After everything that happened with that bastard, I was worried you might fade away.”
His words hung a bit heavy in the air, with only the light patter of rain against the car filling the silence. “Seeing you be Shinya again… I’m relieved.”
Shinya wasn’t used to being observed that closely. Not in a way that wasn’t about his performance or music. “I’m okay,” Shinya murmured.
“I know,” Die said gently. “But you don’t always have to be.” Die exhaled slowly. “I didn’t say anything before because I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.” A faint, almost self-conscious smile touched his lips. “And you’re… you. You like handling things on your own.”
Shinya’s fingers tightened slightly against the fabric of his sleeve.
“But,” Die continued, softer now, “that doesn’t mean you have to.” The traffic light turned red and the car idled. Die glanced over at him properly for the first time since they’d started driving. “I’ve had my name dragged around before,” he added, voice steady. “It messes with your head. Makes you feel like you have to shrink or disappear.” Die looked back at the light before it turned green. “I just didn’t want you disappearing.”
Shinya’s throat felt tight in a way he didn’t entirely appreciate. Vulnerability was dangerous. It had cost him before. “I wasn’t going to,” Shinya said quietly.
“I know.” Die’s tone was warm with not hint of doubt. “You’re the strongest person I know.” His eyes softened but the grip on the wheel tightened. “But I want you to know it’s okay to lean sometimes.”
Shinya leaned his head back against the seat, watching the streetlights blur against the rain-streaked glass. A few responses surfaced in his mind. Thank you, I was scared, I didn’t know how to ask for help; but none of them made it past his lips.
Silence settled between them. Not tense, but just thoughtful.
After a moment, Die swallowed and glanced over. “You’ll tell us when you’re feeling lonely, right?”
A soft chuckle slipped from Shinya before he could stop it. He shifted in his seat, leaning slightly toward Die and peering at him from beneath his bangs. “Well…” he began, a faint smile curling his lips, “I spend more time with you and the others than I ever did with him.”
Die looked back at him, returning the smile without hesitation.
“It’s hard to feel alone with all of you,” Shinya added, lowering his gaze.
“Maybe,” Die said gently. “But you can still feel lonely in a room full of people.”
A quiet hum left Shinya’s throat. “I think…” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, “I’ve never had a problem with feeling wanted.” He huffed a small laugh through his nose.
“Ah… is it that obvious that we like you?” Die huffed out a weak chuckle.
Shinya’s laughter came freer this time in small, breathy wheezes he tried and failed to contain. “There was never a doubt.” He nodded once. “That’s why it was easy to leave.”
Die’s expression softened again. “I’m glad.”
Shinya sat up straighter, brushing invisible lint from his lap. “Maybe the only thing I’ll miss is… that thing.”
“What thing?” Die raised his eyebrow.
“...The intimacy.” Shinya shrank into his seat, his cheeks warming.
Die let out a quiet chuckle. He didn’t need to look to know how red Shinya must be. “Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit, you can’t get enough of it.”
They both laughed, Shinya’s quieter but no less sincere.
“I get it,” Die said with a shrug. “I’ve been more careful since we started touring overseas. Eventually that well just… dried up. Now I just drink or sometimes I work out.”
Shinya glanced at him sideways. “You’re turning into an old man.”
Die barked out a laugh, “It's still too soon!”
Shinya covered his face, wheezing into his palm.
Die dragged a hand down his own face, trying to contain his laughter as he turned into the square leading to Shinya’s apartment building. “Here we are.” He reached out, briefly resting his hand on Shinya’s thigh as a gentle pause before leaning back to grab an umbrella from the rear seat. “Here. Use this.”
Shinya accepted it carefully. “Don’t you need it?”
Die shook his head. “My place has underground parking. I won’t even see the rain.”
Shinya smiled, gentle and sincere, “Thank you. For everything, Die-san.”
“Anytime, Yamo-chan.” Die’s answering grin was softer than usual, a touch sheepish beneath the warmth.
Shinya opened the door, rain pattering against the roof as he unfurled the umbrella outside.
“Oh—” Die called just before he stepped out.
Shinya paused, one hand still on the door.
“If you ever need to relieve some stress,” Die added lightly, mischief flickering back into his smile, “you can always call me.”
Shinya ducked his head instantly, trying and failing to suppress a wide, embarrassed grin. He got out and shut the door a little too quickly.
Die’s laughter could be heard from inside the car even as Shinya hurried toward the courtyard.
The walk through the apartment grounds was unexpectedly peaceful. Rain pattered gently against the clear umbrella, the warm glow from windows and lamps reflecting softly across wet stone. Shinya slowed near the decorative pond, watching fat droplets disturb the surface in widening circles.
He lingered there a moment longer than necessary.
If you ever need to relieve some stress…
Die was obviously joking, but the offer lodged itself in Shinya’s thoughts like a splinter. He examined it carefully, the way he examined all decisions; turning it over, assessing the structure and testing for cracks.
Keeping it inside the band had logic. They understood discretion and shared the same risks. No romance. No expectations. Just something physical both parties could mutually agree upon. A controlled solution to a human need.
A chubby little koi fish lingered at the surface, examining a stray lily pad.
However, the cons screamed louder than Kyo on stage. Well, just barely.
Situationships within a band were volatile. Disagreements could bleed into their professional life. Tension could infect performances. Resentment could rot something they had spent nearly two decades building.
Worst case scenarios lined up neatly in his mind. And yet…
Shinya let out a slow, controlled sigh through his nose.
Since allowing himself a taste of intimacy, however brief, he had discovered something inconvenient.
He now craved it.
The day of the festival was outrageously exciting, as Shinya expected it to be. Sugizo and Luna Sea could do no wrong in his eyes.
Dir en Grey had one of the later slots, leaving him free to wander the grounds for most of the afternoon. He moved quietly between stages, watching other bands from the sidelines, and offered respectful compliments to senior artists he had admired for years.
The final encore of day one was blinding and electric, the kind of collective fever that only a festival crowd could generate. When the last chord rang out and the stage lights dimmed, the adrenaline didn’t dissipate, but simply relocated.
The afterparty was held in one of the hotel’s banquet halls, transformed for the night into something looser. Music pulsed from speakers pushed against velvet-draped walls, laughter cut sharply through the air as glass clinked in constant toasts. Staff members and musicians mingled in shifting constellations with the earlier formality of bowing replaced with slung arms across shoulders and flushed cheeks.
Kyo, predictably, was nowhere to be seen. He had slipped back to his hotel room the moment obligations were fulfilled since the sensory overload of the festival was already enough for him. If asked, he would claim he preferred to “die quietly” in peace rather than endure forced celebration.
Kaoru lingered near the bar, engaged in animated conversation with Sugizo and members of X Japan. He rarely cared for afterparties, but this was an exception. Opportunities like this weren’t passed up. Toshiya hovered nearby, just as equally intent since Luna Sea had always held a particular gravity for him.
Die had been with them, drifting easily between groups with a drink in hand. He could never decline an excuse to celebrate with friends and peers. It wasn’t until he returned to their table that he felt a gentle tug at the edge of his awareness. He turned in time to see Shinya approach him.
“I’m going back to the hotel.” Shinya said, his voice soft enough that it barely carried over the music.
Die blinked, surprised. Not by the decision, Shinya slipping away early was nothing unusual, but by the fact that he had come to tell him of all people.
“Okay,” Die replied, an easy grin tugging at his mouth.
Shinya nods once, but he stays for a moment, considering his next words carefully, “But… Can I talk to you?” Shinya brushed his bangs over his eye, “Alone?”
Concern flickered briefly through Die. With Shinya’s soft but flat tone, it was difficult deciphering the intention behind his words. “Yeah,” Die said, setting his drink down without another thought.
They slipped out through the side exit of the banquet hall, the music muffling behind them as the door shut. The night air greeted them, cool and much cleaner than the heavy warmth inside while the hotel’s exterior lights cast long shadows across the pavement.
They crossed to the quieter side street that ran parallel to the main road. A few people wandered in the distance, laughter drifting faintly from farther down the block, but it was private enough.
“What’s up?” Die asked, hands slipping into his pockets. “Everything okay?”
Shinya stood still for a moment. His hands came together in front of him, fingers lacing out of habit when he was organizing his thoughts. His gaze remained lowered, fixed somewhere near Die’s collarbone.
And for a moment, the silence stretched, only broken by the main street at the end of the block from the distant hum of traffic or the occasional burst of voices from passing tourists. Somewhere nearby, glass clinked against metal as a restaurant closed for the night.
Finally, Shinya lifted his eyes. “Can you relieve my stress?”
There was finally a softer fluctuation to his voice that it nearly sounded like a heartfelt confession. The words hit Die square in the chest, taking all the air out of his lungs.
“Uh…” His lips parted, eyes widening as he searched Shinya’s face for any sign of hesitation, humor, or retreat.
But there was none.
Just a gentle resolve in his eyes.
“Y… yeah…” Die answered, the word quieter than he intended. A cautious smile spread slowly across his lips, something warmer than his usual grin. “I… can do that for you.”
From that night forward, Shinya couldn’t look at Die’s strumming the same way again.
He learned very quickly that Die possessed an astonishing kind of precision— a rhythm and control that translated far too well outside of music. He coaxed reactions from Shinya he hadn’t known his body was capable of giving, drawing out sounds that would have mortified him under any other circumstance.
And Die couldn’t get enough of it.
He had Shinya’s back pressed tightly against his chest, hand stuffed between his legs, heat at Shinya’s spine with the guitarist’s breath ghosting over his ear. Die’s hand was confident and deliberate, guiding him through rising waves of sensation with devastating patience before abandoning patience altogether.
Shinya’s composure dissolved in increments.
His thighs tensed involuntarily. His bucking hips betrayed him. Soft, helpless sounds slipped free before he could swallow them back down as he gushed around Die’s fingers.
Die only laughed under his breath. “You really like that, don’t you?”
The words brushed across Shinya’s skin as much as the touch itself.
“Don’t hold back,” Die murmured. “I want to hear you.”
That alone nearly unraveled the drummer.
Die had remained mostly dressed, maddeningly so, as if he were content by simply servicing the young drummer. The imbalance would have normally embarrassed Shinya, but tonight, there was no room for shame or modesty.
Just pure ecstasy.
After undoing Shinya for the second time that night and cleaning them both up, Die adjusted his sleeves by rolling the fabric back down to his wrists, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Shinya, wrapped in the hotel robe, tugged it tighter around his shoulders as though remembering modesty all at once. “Die—” he began softly, “About tonight…”
Die’s smile widened. He pivoted his way back to Shinya smoothly and dropped onto the edge of the bed beside him. “I think I know what you want to say.” Die says softly.
Shinya peered at him from beneath his bangs.
“You just wanted to tell me ‘Die-san, you’re the best I’ve ever had! I'll dream about this for the rest of my life!’” The imitation was shameless.
Shinya let out a small, breathy snort. “Not at all…!”
Die also laughs. Light and boyish.
“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you…” Shinya’s voice is surprisingly sheepish, the most emotion Die heard from the young drummer aside from the desperate mewing Shinya was making just minutes before.
“No, I get it.” Die nods his head, “I’ve done things like this before.” a slight shrug, “I’m just surprised that it’s with you this time.”
That made Shinya look at him properly, not fleetingly or evasively as he normally did. “After what happened with that person...” Shinya starts, his gaze lowering to his hands, “I don’t want to risk anyone outside the band... Since you all know about me.”
“I understand Shin. You’re human. You have needs, too. You don’t have to worry about me trying to hold this over your head either.” Die gestures to himself, “Because I’m not a bastard.”
Shinya smiles a little. He remains silent for a moment, carefully thinking of his next words. “Will it be okay—” his voice dipped into something smaller, “— if I ask again later?”
That nearly did Die in more than anything else had.
“Of course.” Die tried not to blush; but suddenly, he caught himself, leaning forward just enough that Shinya instinctively leaned back in response, "As long as you promise to keep making those cute noises, I’ll come straight to you even if you ask for it in the middle of the night.” He winked.
“I don’t make cute sounds…” Shinya mumbled.
Die stands, "Consider it ‘friends with benefits’.”
Shinya didn’t respond right away, turning the phrase over in his head. It didn’t really make sense to Shinya at first, usually associating ‘benefits’ as a work related term.
The drummer tilts his head to the side. “Hm? Does that mean you provide a pension plan?”
Die laughs, knowing Shinya was being deliberately clueless. “Maybe not pension.” He reached forward, lightly catching the edge of Shinya’s robe between his fingers, letting it slip just slightly before releasing it again. “But I can offer comprehensive coverage.”