Work Text:
“The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one.”
―Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
Even for Yamanbagiri, who was innately unlucky, it was a bad day.
He had slept through his alarm, as usual, waking up after his art history class had already started. He had been unable to find any wearable socks and so had run to class without them, leaving him with raw blisters on his feet. Once he had finally arrived it was to discover that assignments had been handed out and that he was stuck with the one no one else had wanted. An essay, due the morning after, about the value of forgeries, a topic that made him hideously uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't fathom.
Really, he hadn't been surprised. He had about as much luck on any given day. Usually he would get on with his work, hiding out in a back corner of the library where no one would bother him, and get ready to go through the same thing the day after. However on this day, things had only managed to get worse.
It started with his laptop. It was an old, battered, unloved thing that Horikawa was always telling him to look after better. Yamanbagiri was sitting on his bed with it balanced on his knees, a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. Research was difficult when he really didn't want to read about this topic. Who cared about forgeries, anyway? Of course they weren't worth anything. The sooner he could find evidence to back himself up the better. An empty text document was open on his screen, the cursor flashing balefully at him. He glared back while he ate his sandwich, managing to get even more crumbs in between the keys on his keyboard.
“What...”
A buzzing distracted him from his 'work'. He turned to the open window just in time to see a wasp begin flying in and start to head straight for the crumbs he was covered in. It was big, and spiky, and radiated an aura of evil.
“Mister wasp, no!”
Ostriches could have flown with more grace. Yamanbagiri crashed onto the floor, sandwich going flying and his laptop thudding onto the carpet. He scrambled back to his feet, hitting himself in the face with his book, and flung himself at the window to slam it shut. Although this did knock the wasp back outside, he also caught his foot on the cable of his laptop charger and heard something make a horrible tearing sound as he fell.
He breathed heavily in the silence that followed and evaluated his life decisions. A hatred of wasps was okay. Throwing a sandwich to stop one coming in was just about acceptable. Potentially breaking his laptop while doing it... not so much. And he felt like his cheek would bruise from his collision with the window.
I don't deserve anything better than this, he thought calmly and then turned to find out the extent of the damage. His duvet was covered in mayonnaise and tuna from his sandwich and his laptop was no longer charging. With sixty percent battery remaining he was sure he could work something out by the time it ran down to zero. He had books to read through anyway. Not all was lost. He could handle this by himself, probably.
The tell-tale warning noise played out of his laptop several hours later, heralding his impending doom.
He had achieved precisely nothing. His duvet was still covered in fish and he had listlessly turned through three books without reading more than a page. It was dark outside and he hadn't turned on any lights, the shadows of his room pressing down around him as he clung to the light from his screen in the few minutes before it probably went dark forever.
He could have blamed the manufacturer for making bad cables. He could have blamed the wasp. He could have blamed the subject matter he was studying, which made him feel itchy and weak and wrong, felt like all the long nights he had spent sitting awake in the bathroom and contemplating words like 'hatred' and 'worthlessness'. But no, better not to think about that. He settled for simply blaming himself, as usual. He would probably be thrown out of college, bring disgrace to Horikawa, and have to go and live with their oldest brother Yamabushi at his weird rural retreat as he kept suggesting.
The battery died. The room went dark. Yamanbagiri dropped his head onto the keyboard and groaned.
“Stupid,” he decided. “Idiot. Moron.”
It took him a few minutes to run out of insults. Once he had exhausted them all he dragged himself up off of the floor and turned on the lights, looking over the room with dull eyes.
A pile of dirty clothes at the end of his bed. Tuna mayonnaise. A small sunflower souvenir he had picked up when last visiting Yamabushi and a photograph of the three of them discreetly hidden behind a pile of empty plates. On his side of the room there was nothing else. On Horikawa's...
Sometimes he forgot that he actually shared the room with his shorter brother. The business student was almost always busy either with study, sports or the effort of keeping his friend Izuminokami alive. He usually came back to sleep but his side of the room remained pristine as if no one had ever been there. It was the same now, sheets turned down neatly and distinctly lacking in sandwich filling. If anyone had a spare laptop charger, it would be Horikawa.
Still, it felt wrong going through his brother's things. He expected everything to break as he touched it, to burst into flame at the impropriety of his even being here. Familiar thoughts and not strong enough that he couldn't push past them when it was for something honest like this. If he failed this assignment Horikawa would be disappointed in him; it was as simple as that. He was finding it difficult to care what happened to himself but his brother's feelings were important.
So was neatness. This was why he was certain he hadn't missed a charger once he finished going through the drawers of Horikawa's desk.
“What now?”
Speaking aloud did not ease his growing sense of panic. He tried again, just in case.
“I should go to the library.”
There were public computers there, after all. The problem with that was that public places were also filled with the public. At gone ten in the evening, with a swollen cheek and what Yamabushi was starting to call his social phobia, it seemed impossible. No matter how much his brothers told him his feelings were justified, Yamanbagiri just felt stupid. His breath was coming in short gasps and he felt sick and asking anyone for help with that would be disgraceful. He didn't deserve their help, not with that.
...but he did need a laptop. Unless he wanted to be hated even more.
Groaning, he forced himself out of the room and into the hall. He remembered where Izuminokami lived. Hopefully Horikawa would be there.
Campus was filled with drunks. It was a weekday. Yamanbagiri had never been able to understand, not even now that he was in his second year. Although everyone seemed to be having fun, all the time, the idea of being drunk around people he barely new was terrifying. The thought of being sober around them was terrifying, too. People were terrifying. He kept his hood pulled down over his face as he scuttled through campus, hoping against all expectation that his brother wasn't out with the other party goers. Not yet. Not until after he had seen him.
Izuminokami's block was in the expensive part of campus, the part where they didn't have to share rooms. There were more drunkards here and Yamanbagiri was forced to walk through several groups of them. A girl wolf-whistled as he passed and he sped up, biting his lip, hoping she realised that he wasn't who she obviously thought he was. Even if she was drunk surely it wasn't so easy to mistake someone like him for someone worth flirting with?
He wondered if he could use this as research for his assignment. He was like a cheap copy of some attractive young man, bundled up in second rate clothing. He had been reading about 'perfect' forgeries, ones made from authentic materials after years of study. Would he be like that? He felt more like a slapped together copy made by a child, more like the botched restoration of the Jesus fresco by Cecilia Giménez than a valuable and significant van Meegeren. The monkey Jesus had become a meme, hadn't it? He didn't even have that. He wasn't even funny...
Eventually, he reached Izuminokami's room. He was out of breath and couldn't stop thinking about that terrible Jesus fresco, imagining it wearing his hoodie or waiting for him in his bed when he got home, and in a desperate attempt to make his thoughts stop he pushed the door open without knocking.
“Huh?”
His first thought was that his brother was getting murdered.
Horikawa was sprawled out on the bed, head tilted back, grabbing at Izuminokami with one hand. The taller youth was straddling Horikawa's hip, his hair falling everywhere, and his eyes narrowed. As Horikawa turned to look at Yamanbagiri in the doorway, an oblivious Izuminokami leaned down and pulled his hair to one side, giving Yamanbagiri a clear view of him biting down on Horikawa's neck. It took only a moment for Yamanbagiri to process that they were both shirtless, both flushed, and that he should probably have knocked before Izuminokami noticed his presence and raised his voice in an angry screech.
“Get out!”
He got as far as slamming the door shut. Shell-shocked, he then stood in front of it with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape.
“It's a weekday,” he protested weakly, repeating it as the door opened again to reveal Horikawa with tousled hair and the most embarrassed expression Yamanbagiri had ever seen him wear. “It's a weekday.”
“Tuesday,” Horikawa agreed, neatly shutting the door behind him and blocking out more angry shouting from within. “But I don't have classes tomorrow so we went to a party.”
Yamanbagiri nodded until he realised this didn't answer any of the questions that were now flooding his mind. He latched onto the first one that he could find words for.
“He bit you.”
It did Horikawa credit that he didn't laugh outright, choosing instead to lean against the closed door and shake his head slowly with a grin.
“Ah, yes, sort of. Not in a bad way, though. I did ask him to.”
“Why would you...”
Horikawa gave him a look that plainly told him you're not that stupid. Yamanbagiri tugged at his hood reflexively and fidgeted with the material.
“So you two are, uh...”
“We're something,” Horikawa finished kindly. “But we're taking things... slowly, I suppose, or I would have told you. Can I ask you a favour?”
Yamanbagiri nodded mutely.
“Please don't tell anyone just yet. I don't mind but Kane-san, he's...”
In the silence that followed, Yamanbagiri could hear loud and enthusiastic snoring from within the room. Horikawa sighed, disappointment etched onto his face.
“He's really drunk,” he finished. “Even you're better at holding your alcohol, nii-san, no offense.”
Yamanbagiri nodded again. He wasn't wrong. The last time they had all gone out drinking, Yamanbagiri had rolled down a hill and ended up in the road.
“He probably won't remember you walking in,” Horikawa continued. “And he'd be really embarrassed if he was told about it so...”
The air felt weirdly heavy. After all the days mishaps this actually seemed important. Yamanbagiri had never seen his brother like this before and he felt strangely touched by it. He wouldn't have dreamed of doing anything but nodding again.
“I'll keep it a secret,” he said solemnly. “You... really like Izuminokami-san, don't you?”
Horikawa's smile was blinding.
“I do. Thank you for understanding. Oh, how rude of me, why are you here anyway?”
“A wasp made me break my laptop charger and I'm going to get thrown out of college.”
One of the best things about Horikawa was that he always understood.
“Give me a minute.”
He disappeared back into the room and for a few minutes Yamanbagiri could hear nothing but thuds, drawers being opened and closed and several murmurs of Kane-san, please get undressed before going to sleep. Eventually Horikawa opened the door again, shaking his head.
“I must have left my laptop with the guys after kendo,” he explained. “I can call them and-”
“No, don't worry about it!” The last thing Yamanbagiri wanted was to cause even more trouble. “I'll go and ask them. Have... a good night, nii-san.”
Horikawa sighed as he waved and went back into the bedroom.
“If I can wake Sleeping Beauty, it'll be even better...”
This was important with a capital letter and maybe an underline too. Yamanbagiri wandered around the block a few times deep in thought. It was Important, definitely Flirting, probably Sex and maybe even Love. All big, important things that he had no experience with whatsoever. Big, important, secret things that he had been trusted with.
Letting Horikawa down was unthinkable. He had to find that laptop, finish his assignment and keep the monumental secret that his brother was potentially dating a guy that all the girls talked about.
“Easy,” he tried to tell himself. It didn't work.
How did you go about keeping secrets anyway? What if it showed on your face? How had people like Giovanni Bastianini sold his forgeries for a fortune without giving the game away? When had he even learnt that? Why did he care?
First things first, he needed the laptop. Studying could keep him occupied until the morning at least.
He hoped the wasp was having a really bad evening.
The dorm in which Kashuu and Yamatonokami shared a room was back towards his own building. This meant that Yamanbagiri had to scuttle back past all the drunks, back past the girl who kept whistling, and through a large crowd of people in school uniforms. He had enough sense left to appreciate that at least he hadn't seen his brother like that before he was entering the right block and panicking all over again.
Maybe he should have let Horikawa call ahead. This was going to be awkward. He only hoped he wasn't intruding on anything more than studying. Yamatonokami seemed sensible, surely they were behaving on a Tuesday.
He rounded the corner onto the right floor and walked straight into the sensible friends he had been thinking about. The comfortable silence was suddenly filled with Yamatonokami's laughter and a steady stream of swearing from Kashuu who had ended up on the floor.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm-”
“Ugh, I chipped a nail!”
Yamanbagiri wondered if he knew anyone normal. He was already backing up, hiding his face and trying not to just run for it, when he got his first good look at them both. Firstly, he was wearing lipstick. Secondly, so was Yamatonokami.
For a moment, time stopped for Yamanbagiri. He felt like he was at the edge of a cliff or, perhaps, that he had fallen asleep in his room and was having a really strange nightmare. Most people had nightmares of sensible things; he knew that Horikawa had them about drowning and Kashuu had them about having his head chopped off. Apparently his were about barging in on his friends in embarrassing situations. It seemed fitting.
“What are you doing here?!”
Time rushed back with a thud as Kashuu took him by the shoulders and shook him roughly, eyes as wide with panic as his own. Yamatonokami was standing behind him, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and giving Yamanbagiri a sympathetic smile.
“Horikawa left his laptop here, so...”
Kashuu looked scandalised. He drew back and pointed towards their room with a scowl.
“Then go get it, idiot!”
“Kiyomitsu, don't be so-”
“He's looking at me!”
Yamanbagiri slumped back against the wall as Kashuu all but flung himself into Yamatonokami's arms, hiding his face against the other's neck. Yamatonokami patted his back and offered Yamanbagiri another smile.
“Please go ahead and get it, Yamanbagiri-san,” he said. “We'll stay out here.”
He was afraid to go in. While Kashuu was wailing about looking gross behind him, he could only imagine what might actually be in the room. It was with a deep breath and his eyes shut that he pushed the door open to see a tidy space and Horikawa's laptop bag in the middle of the floor.
Angels began singing. He suddenly believed in God.
“Yasusada! He's going to think I'm gay!"
“You already told him you were a few years ago, Kiyomitsu.”
The casual bickering from the hallway brought him back to his senses and he scurried out as quickly as he could, laptop clutched to his chest.
“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled, trying to get past. Kashuu rounded on him with a tear-stained face.
“Don't tell anyone we're dating!” he hissed. Behind him, Yamatonokami raised his hand in a slow facepalm.
“You're...dating?”
“Kiyomitsu, I think you had too much to drink...”
“And I think you need to take this more seriously!”
Yamanbagiri fled. It was easier than trying to keep up.
This time, he needed to make six trips around the block until he could calm down.
This was important with a capital letter, an underline and some bold text. It was not just Important, Flirting, probably Sex and maybe even Love but also Embarrassment. This, at least, was something he had experience with. His chest hurt and he felt dizzy but he didn't hate Kashuu for yelling at him. If he had been caught like that himself then...
This was another Secret. A Super Important Secret that he would take to his grave. If he didn't, he was pretty sure Kashuu would put him in it early anyway.
The problem was that now there were two, now he had seen things, he was finding it hard to think of anything else. Not only was it so awkward his mind was intent on reminding him just how stupid and rude he must have looked but it was...good news. Sort of. His friends were happy, probably. So was his brother. He was used to keeping bad things secret – like falling over in front of his class, or locking himself out of his room, or keeping himself awake at night crying – but good things were meant to be shared, weren't they? What if he smiled at any of them in the wrong way and they could just tell why he was smiling? What if they tried to hold hands and he looked? More likely, what if he couldn't keep himself from apologising next time he saw them?
Too many questions, too many worries. One thing at a time. He needed to write the stupid uncomfortable assignment and get some sleep. That usually helped.
But first...
He hadn't eaten anything other than half a tuna mayonnaise sandwich all day and his stomach was churning. The closest place selling food at this hour was one of the bars. Weighing up his options and deciding that things really couldn't get worse than they already were, Yamanbagiri went inside.
As bars went on campus, this one was blessedly quiet. Only a few groups of what appeared to be mature students were still drinking and the music wasn't deafening. Huddled in a corner with Horikawa's laptop, a bowl of nachos and a half-pint of beer to calm his nerves, Yamanbagiri was pretending he had no secrets to keep.
Not like the people he was reading about, anyway. All of them were liars and frauds. It turned out that people had made millions selling fakes and replicas. Some of them had even gone on to be considered masters themselves. Even beer and nachos weren't helping him name exactly why the whole idea upset him so much or why he felt so angry looking at pictures of beautiful replicas. It just didn't seem right that they should be so pretty. It didn't seem fair.
"Replicas should have no monetary or artistic value," he read his first sentence aloud. It sounded like a strong start. Now all he had to do was explain it.
He wanted to ask Horikawa about it but didn't dare phone or text; it's not like his brother would appreciate the interruption. If he had managed to wake Izuminokami up then they were probably-
"Forgeries are nothing but worthless imitations," he tried.
Kashuu would probably know about this topic as well, since he was studying fashion. His topic choice had come about at around the same time he had dramatically informed them all that he was only interested in saying guys. Yamanbagiri wondered if he and Yamatonokami had been dating all that time. Kashuu looked so sad sometimes, it would be nice if-
"Copies of true masterpieces," he recited, typing frantically, "should never be made."
Reading back over everything he had written left him groaning in frustration. Okay so he felt strongly about it but if he couldn't manage anything else on his own then what good was he? Was that why the others were so successful, because they had someone to share it all with? What was that even like, anyway? Wouldn't it be too embarrassing to bear?
Someone had tried to hold his hand once, at a party Yamatonokami had organised. Yamanbagiri hadn't felt like his hand was his own for weeks after. How could they stand to let someone touch them like that?
"You look like you're thinking about something difficult."
The voice was sudden and far too close to his ear for comfort. He scooted away on instinct, putting space between himself and the person who had boldly sat next to him while he was lost in worry. A man, young but older than himself, with soft-looking hair and glittering eyes. He was smiling as if he knew something Yamanbagiri didn't.
"Sorry..." he muttered, doing his best to sink back inside his hoodie and disappear.
"Oh, no need to apologise," the stranger said, giving a soft and melodic laugh. "I intruded on you after all. That being said, I would love to know what could have left you frowning like that."
His eyes were blue with just a hint of amber. Could that even be real?
"I was..." Yamanbagiri looked away, nervous under the intent gaze of this nosy stranger. "My friends are..."
He felt sick to his stomach. Was this all it took for him to spill a secret? He was useless at this, just like everything else. Cheeks heating up, he stared resolutely at the screen of the laptop, the words burning into his memory.
"A frown really doesn't suit you," the stranger said, apropos of nothing. "You have a very pretty face."
That was it. He was sure he had never moved so fast in his life. He packed the laptop up, threw his books into his bag, and got to his feet all in one fluid motion.
"I have to... yeah."
As he scurried away he could hear the strangers friends jeering in the background.
"Stop scaring the kids, Mikazuki!"
"But he looked so lonely, don't you think?"
Yamanbagiri didn't dare to look back as he left the building and headed back towards his room. He should have known that public places weren't meant for him after all.
Writing the assignment was painstakingly hard.
He wasn't sure if it was because the subject matter really got to him or if it was the usual biting insecurities finding yet another outlet to hurt him through. He wanted to work so that he didn't think about the secrets he needed to keep but the very effort of trying not to think about them meant that concentrating was near to impossible. And under it all the constant fears, the endless chatter of worthless, useless, pointless.
Friendless? Soon, maybe, if he carried on like this.
A real friend wouldn't be worrying about any of this, he thought. A real friend would be calm, collected, patient. Instead he felt as if he was going to burst with the pressure, spill the secrets to anyone and everyone that would listen, ask them why the knowledge left him so happy for his friends that he wanted to cry, that his own loneliness cut deeper, that he was afraid of being forgotten and left behind.
He felt like a copy, like the forgeries he was writing about. Looking like his friends but being nothing but a cheap, hollow imitation. Better to stay in these dirty old clothes and hide away than dare show his face around the bright and valuable, than to share a smile with his brother, than to share a thought with the stranger with the kind eyes.
He continued working until long after the sun rose in the sky, as if the flowing words could outpace his thoughts.
"I did it."
His voice was low with wonder as the confirmation e-mail for submitting his assignment popped up on the screen. Morning had come and the impossible had happened.
Perhaps it wasn't ideal. He had written the whole thing on Horikawa's laptop and he still hadn't cleaned up his bed but the assignment was done and, more impressive, he was still here, still in one piece, secrets still safe in his chest.
"Congratulations!"
The door burst open and there was Horikawa, all knowing smiles, as if he understood even the things Yamanbagiri didn't.
"Yeah..."
"Are you hungry? Kane-san wants to buy everyone brunch."
Brunch, despite everything, sounded nice.
Once he was sat at the table - at the head, at his brothers urging - he couldn't help but think he had been over dramatic.
Okay, so he had seen sides of them all that he hadn't been expecting. They were still them. Izuminokami still bought them all super unhealthy hangover food and tried to defend his choices because of 'protein'. Horikawa still dished out napkins. Yamatonokami still told them all stories of the night before and Kashuu still denied all of them. It was...comforting. Having a place here. Having people to say 'well done'. Things he didn't feel like he deserved but which were easing the cold that had crept into his bones during the night.
He wanted to give something back. Looking between them all he could see the way Horikawa was sneaking Izuminokami extra fries and how Kashuu's hand fluttered to Yamatonokami's arm whenever he was talking. He held all the joy of knowing these things to himself and that wasn't fair. He needed to share something too.
"I..."
He spoke up suddenly, the unusual sound of him starting a conversation causing the others to fall silent.
"I always..."
Words were awful. He'd never been any good at them and he hated his voice anyway. Still, he owed them this time. Closing his eyes, he tugged on his hood until it hid them from view.
"I've always felt like a fake."
It wasn't the same sort of secret as theirs and he knew that. Regardless, he continued.
“I was studying forgeries and stuff and I just... I feel like I'm not the same as everyone else. I don't think it's right for you guys to hang out with me. I'm... not normal so-”
“It'd be boring if we were all the same,” Horikawa interrupted him. “Don't you think?”
“And 'normal' is just a word,” Yamatonokami added, shooting him a smile down the table.
“There's nothing wrong with you,” Izuminokami said with a shrug. “You're smart, you're fit and you have the coolest brother in the world. You'd be pretty cool yourself if you worked on your confidence!”
“Did you study Van Megeeren?” Kashuu asked him thoughtfully.
Gaping, Yamanbagiri could do nothing but nod.
“I was told that the copies he made were actually better than the originals,” Kashuu continued with a slowly growing smile. “And his work ended up being super valuable. So even if you feel like a fake, does it really matter?”
It was unthinkable. All of these kind words, these smiles, this care, all directed towards him. Before he could stop himself, he felt tears gathering in his eyes. They had answered so quickly, without hesitation, and even if he couldn't say he agreed with them their smiles seemed sincere. Pressing his hands to his eyes he spoke without thinking, in utter disbelief.
“But I'm not like you guys,” he said. “I don't even have a boyfriend or-”
The air rushed out of his lungs. Four pairs of eyes widened in the silence.
“I mean, I do!” he said quickly, cheeks flushing. “I mean, I... you guys are... uh-”
“Who?”
He wasn't sure who asked. Yamanbagiri was already on his feet.
“I've gotta go.”
“Wait just a minute, you-”
“Forget about me!”
Shouting over his shoulder, he fled as quickly as he could. His cheeks were red, his breaths short with embarrassment, but he was certain he had done the right thing. If they teased him, fine. If he had to make up some mystery person, fine. Their secrets were safe, they were happy and he had done his job.
For today, at least.
The effort had left him exhausted. Back in his room he collapsed on his bed and prayed the others told each other their secrets soon. If they didn't, he was probably going to have to move in with Yamabushi after all.