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“Shouldn’t you two be with the others? I don’t really need your help getting to my dressing room! I’m a professional, you know.” Mitsuki pushed at Nagi, who in turn bumped into Yamato, as he tried to shoo them both away from the door.
“Oh, Mitsuki! You don’t want us here? I’m hurt,” Nagi teased, placing his hand over his heart as shot his best wounded expression at Mitsuki. The shorter man rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile as he turned away from his two best friends.
“Yeah. Come on, it’s the first episode of your big show. You don’t want us here supporting you?” Yamato’s voice rang from behind him, and Mitsuki sighed. Neither of them were playing fair, and they both knew it.
He reached for the doorknob, hovering over it for a moment. It’s not that he didn’t want them there. He wanted no one else to be with him on a day like this. In truth, he was certain he would have never made it this far without them. From being the son of a baker, to IDOLiSH7’s Mitsuki Izumi.
And now, to the host of his own variety show.
His hands shook as he opened the door. He didn’t want to rely on them all of the time. He didn’t want them to be his crutch, his only strength. He had leaned on them for far too long, in any case. And even now, he was scared. And unprepared. And uncertain. He didn’t want to let them see him like that.
But he didn’t want anyone else by his side, either.
“Fine,” he finally said, sighing as he opened up the door. “But you can only stay until the producer comes in an-“
He paused as soon as the door swung open all the way, revealing the large changing room. It was sparking and white, with mirrors all around and a small wardrobe rack with Mitsuki’s costumes hung up neatly.
But more than that, the entire room was filled with flowers.
Yamato let out a low whistle. “Wow. Looks like you got yourself some fans, Mitsu”
“Oh! So beautiful! I wonder who they’re all from!”
Mitsuki was already checking each one by the time Nagi had said anything, bounding forward to take a look at them all. He had received fan gifts in the past, of course. Flower stands and letters were only natural for an idol. But he treasured every single item, and the rush of receiving one never really wore off. In an instant, Mitsuki couldn’t even remember what he was trembling over a mere minute ago.
Everyone was accounted for. IDOLiSH7, Shimooka, RE:VALE, TRIGGER, his family. Even the managers had signed the cards, wishing Mitsuki luck on his big day. There were a few from high school friends, and even local family restaurants that had worked with Fonte Chocolat in the past.
Of course, all except for one, so large that it got a table all of its own. The bouquet sat in the center of the room, flowers nearly tumbling out the vase from its sheer mass.
“Huh,” Mitsuki rummaged his hands through the bouquet, careful not to mess up a single rose or carnation. “I can’t find a note or card.”
“That figures. Too bad. It’s a big one.” Yamato sighed with a small shrug.
“You know,” Mitsuki took a step back, to fully admire the flowers. It was packed with roses and sunflowers and carnations. It was bright, and cheery, and refreshing just to look at. Just like the person he always aspired to be. “It kind of reminds me of that one time, right?”
“Right!” Nagi chirped in immediately, clapping his hands together. “Before Black or White. There were so many flowers in the dressing room, but there was one that was anonymous. I had imagined they were from Haruki…” Nagi’s smile turned soft, almost sad. Still, he smiled nonetheless, hanging onto the precious memory.
“And mine were from Zero!” Mitsuki chimed in. “We all accepted them, right? Riku had accepted his from Kujo-san. And Tamaki from Aya-chan. And…” he trailed off, his eyes drifting over to Yamato, who only stood smiling at the other two. “Yamato-san, who did you imagine? Did you ever say?”
“Didn’t need to. I knew who they were from.”
Nagi and Mitsuki both stared at him, wide eyed and brows furrowed. After a beat of silence, Mitsuki stepped forward impatiently. “Well? Out with it! You can’t just leave us hanging like that! Who were they from?!”
Yamato winked. “Zero.”
“You’re lying!” Mitsuki fired back with ease, lunging forward to gently hit the man in the shoulder. Nagi only stared, eyes keen and knowing. Yamato carefully avoided his gaze.
“You got me,” he finally sighed, with a smile tugging on his lips. After all, there was no need to hide anymore. Not around them. “They were from the old man, actually. I hid the card before anyone could see, just to protect my own.” He felt a little silly saying it. It was so long ago, and he felt so childish remembering it. “Geez, I was pretty selfish back then.”
Nagi hummed, stepping closer to the bouquet to inspect it. “Perhaps you were, Yamato,” he mused, practically able to feel Yamato deflating behind him. He reveled in how open the man had grown to become. “But hiding that card gave us strength too, right? It was your idea after all, to accept them from someone important to us.”
“That’s right!” Mitsuki chimed in with a nod. “You might have thought you were running away from your problems, but in the end you were still looking out for all of us. That’s sure is our onii-san, isn’t it?”
“Geez, give it a rest, you two.” Yamato sighed, waving them both off dismissively. He could still feel heat rushing to his face, despite himself. He could only pray that he wasn’t blushing as obviously as he felt he was. “Still, I doubt these are from that guy. He’d go for something a little classier.”
“Hey! These are plenty classy!” Mitsuki defended his flowers valiantly, moving in to grab the vase, as though Yamato’s words had wounded the bouquet personally. “But you got a point. There likely not from Chiba-san, huh? So…I think I’ll do the same as back then!”
Yamato raised an eyebrow. “Really? Wouldn’t that just insult the person who sent them? I’m sure they’d want you to think of them.”
“Then they should have left a card!” Mitsuki fired back.
“Oh, maybe they were too shy!” Nagi suggested with a bright smile. “Perhaps they’ve been secretly in love with you for years, Mitsuki. And they simply are too emotionally guarded to let themselves admit it.”
Yamato bristled, stepping in sharply. “Or maybe it’s someone with a flair for the over-dramatic, and sent them without the card as some poetic, over-the-top declaration.”
Nagi and Yamato stared at each other, silence growing like static between them.
“That’s enough, you two,” Mitsuki laughed. He had long grown used to their code words and secrets, talking around each other like they knew something that no one else did. Mitsuki knew enough by now not to question it. Still, thinking about their words- as cryptic as they were- made his heart pound.
“I think,” he paused. “I think that whoever sent them would want me to imagine they’re from someone kind. Someone who has supported me every step of the way, no matter the odds. Someone who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. Someone who wants to inspire me to try my hardest and do my best, because that’s how I inspired them. I think they’d want me to imagine that, because they want me to make my wishes come true. They’d want me to imagine they’re from the people who mean the most to me, the ones I want supporting me and cheering me on.”
He blinked, desperate to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes. He grabbed for a mottled rose. Imperfect, but beautiful in its own right. It was primarily orange, and spackled with spots of yellow. The yellow didn’t overpower the orange petals though; it only made the color shine brighter. The green stem jutted out below, thorny and little hard to handle, but supporting the flower with all its might. Mitsuki smiled, soon breaking into a laugh despite himself. And the tears began to overflow as he turned to Yamato and Nagi.
“Today, I’m going to imagine they’re from you.”