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As soon as the live feed ended, Taka immediately threw his phone on his bunk bed—not caring where it would land. He pulled the flimsy curtain aside, rolled out of his bed and crossed the short distance between his and the band leader’s own bed.
What was that about earlier?
Without even asking for permission, he yanked the curtain open, revealing the lying figure of the guitarist. Toru didn’t even glance at him nor acknowledge his presence, he just lie there—his back leaning on a pillow as his fingers lazily slide across his phone. Taka knelt on the faux-wood floor of their bus, propped his tattooed arms over the bed and laid his head on it.
“Nee, nee, Toru-chaaaan~” he said, in a sing-sang manner.
No response.
“Toru-saaaan~”
Still no response.
“Toru? Toruuuu?” he whined, but the guitarist still ignored him. Taka pouted, watching as the soft light from Toru’s phone illuminated his manly features. Those heavily lidded eyes, tall pointed noise, sexy lips that are somehow turned downwards in a frown, his sharp jaw line, and his disheveled hair. Ah, Taka can probably spend eternity by just watching this man.
“Uhmm..” he’s running out of names to call the younger one, so he tried the best thing he knows that will catch Toru’s attention, “Yamashita Toru—the best guitarist in the world?”
Toru finally—fucking finally—graced him a side glance, a teasing smirk forming on those sweet lips, “Damn right.”
“Ugh! You—! You’re such an egoistic bastard you know that?” he grunted in annoyance, watching as the man shifted on his bed to face him, light-crimson head propped on an elbow.
“Says the man who spends half an hour showing only his entire face to the whole world.”
“Mou! Shut up!” he screeched making the Toru chuckle in amusement.
“You shut up—the kids are sleeping—,”
“Ryota’s not—,”
“Anyway, why are you even barging into my bunk again?” Toru smoothly evaded another shit-storm of curses and blushing spree from Taka. The glint on his eyes dance with mischief, as he watch the vocalist instantly shut up—a grin forming on his full lips.
“Oh! Yeah—,” Taka said, instantly throwing all his arguments out of the window, “Why did you even have to show your face in my live feed? I thought you hated public displays of affection?” Taka’s smile even grew wider, much like how a teenage boy would smile when he got noticed by his life-long crush, “Don’t tell me you secretly want to show them that we’re together? Ah, man, you could have just asked me, then we could—,”
“What if I do?”
“A-re?”
Taka’s smile froze at that. He blinked at the younger one, noticing the small smile playing on Toru’s lips.
He’s joking right?
Toru, who never liked parading their relationship in front of the public’s eyes? The one who scolded him when Taka kissed him on stage? The one who would blatantly ignore his advances during live performances? The one who was against the most about their 20/20 performance? The one who declared “Homo janai! Homo janai!” on national TV years and years ago?!
Toru—the one who’s practically allergic to the word PDA—says he wants to…to…
And then, Taka’s head exploded.
No, not literally—his mind suddenly came up with instances, with scenarios, with chances when they can hold their hands together, when they can wear the same cut of ring, when they can hug each other, when they can cuddle and kiss each other, when they can tell “I love you’s” to each other—all in public…
Taka blinked.
The shit-eating grin he’s wearing earlier slowly loosens, only leaving a bitter, dissatisfied smile.
Why is that, whenever he thinks of those thinks, reality would fuck it all up at once—leaving him with emptiness and an even stronger desire to come out with their relationship?
But they can’t.
The management wouldn’t want to.
Even, Toru wouldn’t want to.
“Heh..” he said, letting out a soft, hollow laugh, “You really should stop joking about those kind of things, Toru-san…”
Toru probably noticed the change in his demeanor, plus the way he reverted in calling him with honorifics—the way Taka called the younger during their earlier years in the band—back when they we’re still nothing, when there’s still no strings attached between them.
He sighed at the childish pout on the vocalist’s face. Taka is probably overthinking about things again. He grunted and scooted backwards before pulling the blanket open, “Come here.”
Taka shook his head in defiance, “No, I’ll just… just go back in my bunk…you…I—,” he looked down and fiddled with the blanket’s edge, “I’m sorry for even disturbing you—,”
“Takahiro.”
“Hai,” Taka instantly obeyed, pushing his small body upwards onto the bed and rolled around—his back facing the guitarist’s chest, “You damn tyrant. I don’t know why everyone’s calling me the emperor when you’re the one who’s always commanding us like the boss,” he muttered, adjusting his legs to fit inside the blanket.
“Eh, maybe because I’m the band leader?” Toru rasped behind him, sending chills down to Taka’s spine. Strong, muscular arms snaked around his waist, large hands pulling his petite body closer until he can feel the man’s heartbeats on his back, “That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?”
Taka pouted, responding with a non-committal grunt. A comfortable silence filled the bunk, neither of them speaking, with only the rustle of their clothe against the mattress and their breathing can be heard. Seconds ticked to minutes and still, no one spoke. Taka even thought that Toru had fallen asleep.
That damn jerk!
He was starting to plot the man’s demise (including thoughts of buying a toy snake to scare the shit out of the guitarist) when Toru suddenly spoke, his voice rough and low, directly behind his ears.
“Close the curtains.”
“What—,”
“Close the damn curtains, Taka.”
Oh shit! Taka immediately pulled the curtains closed, effectively confining the two of them in the dark bunk. He tried looking over his shoulders, to see if Toru is mad or is just super sleepy but before he cane even do that, Toru had already pushed him on his back with the guitarist slightly hovering above him.
“Uhm…?”
“I love you, Taka,” Toru suddenly said, his voice barely above a whisper making Taka shuddered in delight and surprise.
He blinked up at the man—at Toru—who never liked parading their relationship in front of the public’s eyes (but would always hug him from behind whenever he had the chance to do so); the one who scolded him when Taka kissed him on stage (but kissed him aggressively right after the scolding session in their dressing room); the one who would blatantly ignore his advances during live performances (but would always ruffle Taka’s hair, cuddle with Taka on the couch and would listen to his casual singing back at home with a soft smile on his face); the one who was against the most about their 20/20 performance (but got hard nonetheless); the one who declared “Homo janai! Homo janai!” on national TV years and years ago and yet—look at the two of them now.
Like, right now.
A bright smile wounded on Taka’s lips as he snaked his hands upwards, linking them behind Toru’s nape as he pulled the man closer, “Ai shitemasu yo, Toru-san”