Chapter Text
Kaito was staring exasperatedly at the screenplay splayed over the marble countertop. He’d read through it a number of times and, while it had only taken one reading to appreciate it for the work of genius that he’d never doubted it would be, it had taken three to realise that something was up with the script.
The door to the kitchen opened with a quiet creek.
“Oi, Shuichi,” he called to his friend who’d just walked in. “About this script…”
“Oh! Yeah, I meant to say, there was a couple of changes I was thinking about making to the final act. I thought we should probably talk it over toge-”
“Nah, nah, that’s not it, mate,” Kaito interrupted him, leaning his cheek into his palm and watching as Shuichi went about making a cup of coffee. “While I do agree that that would be a good idea, that isn’t quite what I wanted to talk about.”
Shuichi leant against the counter and looked curiously over to where Kaito was sat at the breakfast bar, papers stacked haphazardly around him. “Alright, then what?”
Kaito stared at him for a few moments before sighing and picking up a piece of paper. “I know we’re pretty high profile, but I wasn’t really expecting to cast such a famous actor in this thing.”
“Eh?” Shuichi blinked dumbly. “I wasn’t either.”
“Dude, no,” Kaito snorted, shaking his head, letting the sheet gently float back down to the table top. “You aren’t getting this one past me, it’s too obvious.”
“What’s obvious?”
Kaito rolled his eyes. “There are about three people in Hollywood who can boast an acting range as diverse as the one needed to pull the lead role off, and only one of those people is a man.”
“No! No, don’t be silly. I didn’t write the role for Kokichi Ouma.”
“You may as well have!” Kaito ran his hands through his hair and looked back down at the papers. “I mean, we may as well try, I’ll ask the casting crew to call his people, but,” he paused purposefully, getting to his feet and walking to the fridge, pulling it open before pointedly meeting Shuichi’s eyes, “he is a notoriously picky and expensive little shit. And I’m not going to push for it just because you have a crush on the guy.”
Shuichi’s face blossomed bright red and his expression snapped to indignant. “K-Kaito!”
“Seriously,” Kaito pressed, pulling a Pepsi from the door. “I’m convinced this is a pipe dream, but we can give it a shot.”
“I didn’t do that though!” But his protests fell on deaf ears as Kaito shut the fridge and left the kitchen, good naturedly rolling his eyes again and smiling wryly as he kicked the door shut behind him.
“You aren’t going to fucking believe this,” Kaito announced loudly, slamming the door to Shuichi’s study open, startling him away from his computer screen.
“Wha…?” he began, turning around to face his utterly gobsmacked friend. “What’s wrong?”
Kaito stared at Shuichi for a moment, seemingly trying to collect himself before shuffling and crossing his arms. “He said yes.”
Shuichi furrowed his brow. “Who?”
“Ouma,” Kaito clarified. “I just got off the phone with Chiaki. She said he’s agreed to take the part.”
The flood of excitement, confusion and panic that suddenly wracked through Shuichi left him blank. “What?”
“He’s taking the part. At the offered payment. The offered payment! I mean it was nothing to sniff at, but I at least expected them to try raising it. I mean it’s Kokichi Ouma. He’s an A-list actor.” He started pacing and nervously rubbing at his neck, nails noisily scratching against the growing stubble in need of a shave. “Dear fuck he must have liked that script.” He looked down at Shuichi, who was still dumbly sat with his jaw hanging. “Either you are a literary genius, or we are lucky bastards.”
Shuichi shook out of it for a moment to become sheepish. “Well I wouldn’t say… we’ve been doing this a while; your name’s pretty high profile right now. It could just be that.”
“Whatever the hell it was, all I can say is… we’d better make this a good one.”
Kokichi Ouma had turned out to be a… difficult person to work with. Especially for Kaito.
The rumours about him had been proven true the first day of filming. He was an annoying, self-entitled person who believed he always knew how a scene would be best played out, no matter the director’s vision. And that didn’t settle well with Kaito at all.
If Kaito wanted him to do something, Kokichi would always contest it. He’d say that it would look better his way, and never shied away from giving details on what angle the shot should be taken from, the kind of lighting they should have, if the scene would work better with a different set. He’d complain about the costumes and the way he was told to deliver his lines.
If Kaito wanted something one way, Kokichi had to have it another.
Kaito collapsed into his chair and rubbed his temples, letting out a guttural growl. “Why the hell did I ever agree to this?”
“Because you didn’t know it would be an exercise in patience when you asked Chiaki to call his agent,” Shuichi replied, smiling sympathetically and passing him a green water bottle.
“Thanks,” Kaito muttered before chugging the water, sighing and wiping his mouth as he lowered it from his lips. “I wouldn’t have ever even considered it had I known. How did you let me do this?”
Shuichi chuckled and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know either.”
“This all your fault,” Kaito grumbled, glaring up at Shuichi. “I’m too nice to you, this is your fault.”
“I told you, I didn’t write the role for him.”
“He’s the only person who could ever pull it off.”
Shrugging, Shuichi dropped into the seat next to Kaito. “So…” he started narrowing his gaze confusedly. “Are you happy with his performance then?”
“Well yeah,” Kaito said, as if he hadn’t just been complaining about the guy. “He’s Kokichi Ouma. His acting is flawless, I just wish he’d do what I asked him to.” He looked down at the water bottle before placing it on the floor. “Why is it only me though?”
“Eh?” Shuichi leant back in his seat, still eyeing Kaito weirdly. “I heard he does this with most of the directors he works with?”
Kaito shook his head, scowling. “Not what I meant.” He glared over at where Kokichi was stood, talking to one of the other actors, gesturing at the script in his hand. “He’s not once protested to saying any line given to him.”
“H-hasn’t he?”
“Nope,” Kaito affirmed, voice rising an octave in exasperation. “Nope, only my directing. Y’know what’s worse?” he asked, side-eyeing Shuichi. “I was talking to Kyoko last week, she’s worked with him before, and she said that every other complaint was about his lines. Said he insisted on improvising most of ‘em. I mean, it was insane work, like really good, but apparently it was positively infuriating. And yet, I haven’t heard a peep about the script. He just says the lines, no problem.”
“Y-yeah?” Shuichi said, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.
“Not a word…” Kaito glared at the other some more before sitting up from his slouch and picking up the script. “Since he seems to like your work so much, would you mind trying to bargain with him on the next scene?”
Shuichi blinked owlishly at Kaito. “You… you want me to what?”
“Bargain with him. You already know what I want for the current scene, I mean we spent three hours going over it last night, so you can go and talk to him about it before we resume filming. I just think that he may be a little less… uncooperative if he’d already agreed to something.”
Shuichi continued to stare at him blankly. “You want me to what?!”
Kaito rolled his eyes. “I want you to get over your celebrity crush and do me a favour. If you tell him you’re the screen writer I’m almost certain he’ll respect you. He respects your work at least, that’s obvious.”
“But Kaito, I can’t do that. I’m… I’m just the screenwriter. You’re the director. I can’t do that.”
“You’re not ‘just the screenwriter’, Shuichi,” Kaito insisted, a desperate glint now shining in his eyes. “This film is our baby. We came up with this thing together. It is your vision as much as it is mine, so take goddamned responsibility for our child before I sue you for neglect.”
A strangled whine quietly whistled through Shuichi’s throat, stuck between the corner of guilt Kaito had backed him into and the dread that accompanied the idea of talking to his favourite actor.
“Please,” Kaito begged, dropping the script to the floor and violently grabbing Shuichi’s hands. “Please, I’m gonna snap if this continues. I can’t lose this, we can’t lose this. This is Kokichi Ouma acting in our film. Shuichi, this is the kind of thing we’ve been dreaming about since middle school. Do this for us!”
Shuichi held Kaito’s gaze for an uncomfortable ten seconds before sighing and giving in. “Alright, fine, I’ll do it.”
It seemed to take Kaito a lot of effort not to burst into grateful tears. “Yes. Thank you, Shuichi, thank you. Holy cow, you’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”
“Okay, okay, just… just let me go do this.” He pulled his hands out of Kaito’s grip and stared at them solemnly before standing up. “And if it ends in disaster, remember that this is all your fault.”
As the feeling slowly drained from his toes and fingers, he made his way over to where Kokichi was stood alone, the actress he’d been talking with having walked off. Shuichi could feel nerves eating at him as he got closer, still definitely not prepared. However, if Shuichi had learned anything about himself, it was that he could force himself to do the impossible if someone else’s problem was on the line. Especially if it was Kaito’s.
“Um… hello?” he said quietly, trying to get the other’s attention while simultaneously hoping that if he was quiet enough he wouldn’t be heard and could just walk away.
Unfortunately, he’d been just loud enough and Kokichi turned around to look at him. At first, he’d looked rather indifferent, if a little annoyed about being disturbed, but that slight annoyance very quickly morphed into mild interest. “Yeah?”
Shuichi stuttered for a moment, words catching in his throat before he eventually managed to squeeze them out. “I-I’m, um… I’m the head screenwriter. I was hoping I could… if I could maybe talk about the scene… with you. The one we’re filming now.”
At that the mild interest jumped to fully engaged as the other’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah, alright. What’s up?”
Shuichi was rather taken aback but gulped and continued doing as asked.
He was surprised by just how receptive Kokichi was throughout the entire conversation. The other was nodding along and actively engaging with Shuichi’s remarks about his and Kaito’s ideas for the scene, giving his own opinions and being quite happy to compromise, openly stating that, while it wasn’t what he’d do, what Shuichi was suggesting was of equal quality.
He walked away from the conversation feeling both satisfied and positively elated, having held an extensive conversation with one of the people he admired most in the world. Kaito looked hopeful as he returned and was downright ecstatic throughout the rest of filming, Kokichi doing as he asked, as per his and Shuichi’s prior discussion.
“That was incredible,” Kaito exclaimed as he dropped lightly into the passenger seat of their car at the end of the day, kicking his bag into the footwell. “That is what filming is meant to be, yeah!?”
Shuichi nodded, climbing in behind the wheel. “It certainly was a lot easier.”
“It all came out exactly as I wanted it to! Do you think it’s gonna be as good tomorrow?”
“I sure hope so,” Shuichi said, igniting the engine.