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“That snobby pop diva’s out there again,” Keicho says, peeking out at the crowd through a tiny gap he’s poked between the curtains.
Already feeling the pre-show jitters something fierce, Okuyasu’s heartrate picks up even more at that, and his mouth feels dry. Good thing he’s got a water bottle handy by his feet. Maybe, Keicho’s talking about a different pop diva…no reason to get excited…
Mikitaka glances up from where he’s fine-tuning his keyboard. “Who?”
Waving a dismissive hand and still peering between the curtains, Keicho gives an offhanded mutter of, “That Josuke guy.”
Aaand Okuyasu’s water goes down the wrong pipe. He stifles the resulting coughing fit in his elbow as best he can until it dies off – the butterflies aren’t so easily banished. In fact, they’ve doubled in number.
At least all the coughing got Keicho’s attention away from the crowd. “You good?”
“Yeah, I’m,” a couple more coughs, “I’m fine!” Water bottle is capped and tucked behind his drum set, to be saved for after the show when Okuyasu is more composed. Or during it, when he’s more calm. Though, if Josuke really is out there…
“Quiet!” Yukako hisses, already perched in front of her microphone, center stage. “I’m finding my center.”
Okuyasu has no idea what that means, but no one in their right mind gets in Yukako’s way when she’s preparing. No matter how weird some of her vocal warm ups sound, or how out there her pre-show meditation is. He shuts up after a whispered, “Sorry.”
Keicho, on the other hand, has no such qualms, and carries on complaining about Josuke. Which isn’t helping Okuyasu’s nerves any.
“Seriously, he just got back from a big, shiny world tour and he comes here of all places?”
“Maybe he wants to wind down,” Mikitaka says with a shrug.
“In this dump? Or any of the others we frequent?” Kicking at a stain on the floor that’s been there since long before they started playing here, Keicho wanders over to his bass. “Makes no sense. And I dunno why he’s gotta be at every show – we play the same material every fuckin’ time.”
“We had a new song last time,” Mikitaka points out.
Akira – already strutting around with no shirt on (unless his prized guitar strapped to his front counts) – points at him in agreement with a, “Yeah!”
Keicho’s eyes roll so far back they go completely white. “Fine. Almost every fuckin’ time. It still doesn’t make sense, this ain’t his genre, and we’re nobody.”
“Maybe he’s scouting?” Akira sounds way too excited about that possibility, considering it makes Okuyasu’s insides want to eat themselves. More than local fame? Bigger crowds? Thanks to Josuke?
“Don’t be an idiot.” Good thing that Keicho, as always, is happy to be the voice of reason. Okuyasu’s glad for that at least. “Pop stars don’t do their own scouting – and he’d’ve given us a card or some shit by now if that’s what he was doing.”
“Why do you care?” Yukako snaps, probably giving up on centering herself amidst all the noise.
Okuyasu figures this means he’s safe to put his own two cents in at last, though it takes him another gulp of water to unstick the words. “Yeah, he’s not hurtin’ anything…”
“Just weirds me out is all,” Keicho says, “with the sunglasses and everythin’. Who’s he think he’s kidding? Even the tabloids notice he frequents our shows! You guys read the rumors?”
For some reason, that makes Okuyasu feel even worse – the usual stage fright pales in comparison to this intense, fluttering sensation growing in his stomach. He’s read the rumors, yeah, has that copy of that particular gossip mag with Josuke on the front hidden safely under his pillow, actually. Autographed, while Josuke laughed aloud at its contents –
“Almost wish they were true,” Yuuya chimes in. “If he and Yukako got together, our fame would skyrocket.”
Yukako tosses her hair, a look of pure determination coming over her face. “I’m faithful to my Koichi.”
“We don’t doubt it,” Akira mutters with all the conviction that comes from a man jaded by his own ego. “‘Sides, aren’t there, uh…other rumors about Josuke?” On the word ‘other’, he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ones that don’t fit the whole ‘crushing on Yukako’ theory?”
“Oh, you mean the rumor that he’s gay!” Mikitaka supplies, helpful as always and with no idea what he’s doing to Okuyasu’s poor heart.
It’s racing a mile a minute here. This can’t be healthy. And he’s pretty sure he’s blushing by now, too – that’s suspicious, no matter how you look at it. Okuyasu takes another swig from his water bottle, and then, in an attempt to keep the conversation from taking a turn for the (more) awkward, he says, “It’s free publicity for us, at least.”
“Yeah,” Keicho scoffs, “it would be if those nosy columnists ever bothered to spell any of our names right…”
“You’re on in five,” one of the bar’s employees scurries past to remind them, on her way to open the curtains.
Just like that, the subject of Josuke is dropped and everyone swaps from gossip to performance mode.
…Okuyasu’s nerves might slowly evaporate as their set goes on, but they reignite during those times when he can’t keep his eyes from wandering to that table in the far corner, where Josuke sits at attention all night.
-
By the time Okuyasu makes it to the apartment he shares with Keicho, it’s well past midnight. Almost one, even, after he’s done hauling his drums upstairs one box at a time because the elevator’s broken again and Keicho is already in bed after refusing to help.
So Okuyasu is beyond dead tired as he totters into his bedroom, jaw cracking on a yawn. Man, he can’t wait to crawl into –
“Josuke!” Okuyasu shoves his back against his door, hand scrabbling at the wall beside him, feeling for the light switch. That’s a silhouette he’d recognize anywhere, and when his searching fingers finally flick on the light, there Josuke sure is.
In all his glittering, pop idol glory. Asleep on Okuyasu’s bed.
He’s as beautiful as ever. Even drooling on Okuyasu’s pillow with his scruffy hair and wrinkled clothes, he still sets fluttering warmth loose in Okuyasu’s stomach. He's dressed up in his civilian disguise, too, with his designer jeans that hug him just right and his blazer cut to highlight his physique…custom shoes on the floor by the foot of the bed so as not to alert Keicho by leaving them at the door…
But what’s he doing here? He stuck around for all of the music, then disappeared from their venue before they even started to tear down. Okuyasu wasn’t expecting to see him so soon. Figured he’d be too tired, after the tour and all.
Well, he was right about the tired thing, at least. As for what Josuke’s doing here, Okuyasu won’t get an answer unless he wakes Josuke up. No matter how cute he looks.
So he tiptoes over to his bed, rests one hand on Josuke’s shoulder, and gives him a little shake. “Hey, Josuke.”
Face scrunching up some, Josuke’s eyelids flutter, and then blink open to reveal brilliant blue. He squints at his surroundings for a second before his eyes land on, “Okuyasu!” His voice is all sleepy still, but he wraps wide-awake arms around Okuyasu’s shoulders and wow he smells real nice. Hairspray and his signature cologne.
“Hh…hi, Josuke.” Okuyasu’s fingers feel all twitchy, and his stomach feels all fluttery, but his arms work to hug Josuke back. Even though he himself is all sweaty and probably doesn’t smell near as nice, Josuke doesn’t recoil and only squeezes tighter, keeping Okuyasu bent over him. It’s nice, and despite the way it kinda strains his back muscles, Okuyasu can’t help but sink into that sleep-warm hold. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“I missed you,” is Josuke’s mumbled explanation, as he nuzzles into Okuyasu’s neck.
Ah. If Okuyasu wasn’t blushing before, he is now. That’s what it feels like, anyway. “Me, too. But – what if –”
“No one knows I’m here.” Josuke lets his arms slip out of the hug, cupping Okuyasu’s cheeks with his palms. “Just you.”
Man, Josuke’s eyes are pretty; his eyelashes are so long. Okuyasu is pretty sure he’s the luckiest guy in the whole wide world. Still has trouble believing that this is real, sometimes. That he really did bump into Josuke over a year ago without a single clue who he was, only to become his biggest fan and then some, with reciprocated feelings and all.
But with Josuke half asleep in his bed after coming to watch his band first thing upon coming home…it’s…
“Y’sure it’s okay?”
“Mhm.” Full lips press gentle to the tip of Okuyasu’s nose.
And who is Okuyasu to argue with that? Josuke kisses his nose one more time, but no matter how sweet that is, or how warm his palms are on Okuyasu’s cheeks, staying bent over the bed like this is getting uncomfortable.
Some careful finagling is in order to reclaim his arms from where they’re tangled with Josuke, and then Okuyasu is free to sit on the edge of the twin mattress. “How was the tour?”
“Exhausting,” Josuke says, pushing himself up and back so he’s sitting on the bed, one knee brushing Okuyasu’s hip. He uses that knee to nudge Okuyasu, grinning when he adds, “Was nice when I could sneak away to talk to you, though.”
“I liked hearin’ from you.” Even if Josuke would sometimes forget that time differences are an ever-changing thing on world tours, and wound up calling at all hours in a myriad of situations. Okuyasu got good at ducking away to take calls – though he never did master the art of repressing the smiles when text notifications would pop up attached to Josuke’s contact name (a collection of emojis).
Josuke swoops forward to kiss Okuyasu’s cheek, and it sets off a fresh wave of butterflies and blushing, damn him. “I thought about you a lot,” he says, one of his hands creeping closer to where Okuyasu’s is settled atop his knee.
Shit. Why’s Okuyasu already sniffling over something so simple? And it only gets worse when Josuke’s hand glides over his own, twining their fingers together. He thought about Josuke a lot, too…it’s not a big deal…just usual stuff! Too bad his heart doesn’t agree, busy making his eyes go wet. “You’re gonna make me cry, sayin’ shit like that.”
“It’s true,” Josuke insists, kissing Okuyasu’s cheek again, smiling all charming like.
“Sh-shut up!”
But Josuke’s still all smiley, only blushing a little, and now his thumb is brushing along Okuyasu’s hand – and so Okuyasu sways closer so he can kiss Josuke on the cheek. There. That’ll show him.
“You were great tonight.”
Aw, man, that did not show him. Josuke’s just as gleeful as he was before, and now it’s spreading to Okuyasu! A giddiness that’s unique to Josuke’s proximity and compliments rises tight in Okuyasu’s chest, and his face goes hotter. “S’nothin’,” he mumbles. “Your shows are way more…” well, more. Flashier wardrobe, bigger crowds…
Shaking his head, Josuke shuffles a little closer. Any farther, and he’ll be sitting on top of Okuyasu. “Nah, dude, it’s not nothin’ – you’re amazing.”
If anyone here is amazing, it’s Josuke. As for Okuyasu: “I’m just the drummer…”
“An amazing drummer,” Josuke insists. Plush lips press firm to Okuyasu’s cheekbone, tipping his head with the force of this latest kiss.
Oh this isn’t helping Okuyasu’s blush at all. “Who gets a crush on the drummer…?”
Josuke is giggling at that. The sound is so melodic and contagious that Okuyasu could start crying all over again even though he’s grinning wide and giggling along. That’s weird, right?
Their little laughing fit ends with Josuke’s forehead resting on Okuyasu’s shoulder, smushing his hair more. For once he doesn’t seem to really care – just scoots his way in closer, settles one leg on top of Okuyasu’s thighs and the other around behind him.
This new position requires that they stop holding hands, but Josuke makes up for that by wrapping his arms around Okuyasu as he says, “I like the new song.”
“Y-you do?!” Okuyasu stares down at Josuke as best he can. Forget the butterflies in his stomach; they’ve been replaced by fireworks. One of his arms winds around Josuke’s back on automatic, but he’s got no idea what to do with his free hand, settles for awkwardly resting it on Josuke’s knee.
“Mhm.” Josuke snuggles into Okuyasu even more if possible, long legs bending so they, too, are hugging Okuyasu. Kisses his cheek again.
Even though Okuyasu’s sure his face is already betraying him to those blue eyes, he feels the need to admit that, “It…it’s about you, you know.”
“Really?” Ah, now Josuke is blushing. “You wrote that about…?”
Okuyasu nods, his hands twitching, nerves lighting up alongside the fireworks to create a dizzying mess of his stomach. Did he just make everything awkward? He can’t read the expression on Josuke’s face too well, he’s just blinking and all. Quiet for an awful long time. Should Okuyasu fill the silence, or –
“I love it.”
“Oh.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Okuyasu relaxes into a smile. “Oh, good!” The gentle touch of Josuke’s fingers on his bare arm, and the warm weight of that heartfelt sentiment – and that heartfelt expression – would be enough to coax him into complete calm.
The only problem is that Okuyasu’s eyes fall past Josuke, to the head of his unmade bed, where the corner of that gossip mag is sticking out from under his pillow. His mood plummets despite the cozy embrace he’s cradled in.
“Um. But…do you think you should still be coming to our shows so much?”
Well-sculpted eyebrows furrow. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean.” Okuyasu clears his throat. He can’t keep looking at Josuke’s face. “People are starting to get suspicious about –”
“I don’t care what people think.”
Okuyasu tries not to wince. “That’s great, and I’m real glad, but I just…I’m not…”
“You’re not what, Oku?”
Ack. The gentle tone. That nickname. Okuyasu’s heart still skips a beat every time Josuke uses it, and this time it couples with one manicured hand cupping Okuyasu’s cheek. Saying this out loud isn’t easy, but it’s something that’s been lingering beneath the surface for a while now, and so out it comes. (While avoiding Josuke’s gaze, but still.)
“I’m not pop star material, y’know? People will talk if they find out you’re goin’ to those shows for me instead of Yukako…”
The thumb on Okuyasu’s cheek rubs at it, and there’s what might be an awkward or amused or both tone to his voice when he says, “They already think I like dudes, dude.”
Okuyasu huffs out a sigh. “But I’m so…” Unable to articulate what he means, Okuyasu gestures to himself to prove his point that he’s scruffy and simple while Josuke is…well. There’s no contest. “How’d ya even fall for me in the first place?”
“Well, for starters, you’re hot as hell.” Okuyasu opens his mouth to protest this, but Josuke silences him by holding up a finger, barely a centimeter from Okuyasu’s lips. “Don’t fight me on that.”
Mouth closing into a weak, wobbling line, Okuyasu is sapped of all desire to fight Josuke on that. He doesn’t have much of a chance to, anyway, because Josuke carries right on with his stream of compliments, disregarding the way that it’s making Okuyasu tear up.
“And you’re a total sweetheart. A real good cook, with great hair to go with your hot as hell face…” He hugs Okuyasu from the side, with arms squeezing tight to his ribcage, and presses another insistent kiss to his cheek. “You treat me like I’m normal.”
“You’re the one that’s a sweetheart,” Okuyasu mumbles, voice watery. He clutches at Josuke in return.
Fingers nudge at Okuyasu’s jaw, coaxing him to look at Josuke. His eyes are liquid blue, and Okuyasu falls into them, closing the distance between him and Josuke until they’re kissing, Josuke’s mouth soft and pliant and impossibly warm against his own. The contact lingers for a handful of comfortable seconds, long enough to quell some unrest in Okuyasu’s chest.
“I love bein’ around you, okay?” Josuke says when they part. “If we went public, nothing any shitty tabloid said would change that. I’m not ashamed of you.”
And Okuyasu nods, believes those soft-spoken words as best he can, fails to fight off the heat in his face. “I love bein’ around you, too.” He kisses Josuke again, quick and chaste. Hopefully it gets his feelings across, even if it’s a little clumsy. “But even if you’re okay with the tabloids knowin’…m-my bro doesn’t know I like more’n girls yet, and I don’t wanna introduce you as anything less than what you are.”
There’s a little twitch at the corner of Josuke’s mouth at that, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Just keeps that fond smile in place, waiting for Okuyasu to finish.
“So for now, can we…keep things the way they are?”
“Of course, Oku.” Josuke strokes Okuyasu’s messy hair back from his face, leaning in for another of those soft kisses. “I’ll stay as your anonymous benefactor who provides funding for new instruments and sound equipment.”
At that, Okuyasu’s mouth stretches into a grin – weak though it may be. “Thanks.”
-
Okuyasu jolts awake, with no real idea what woke him up at all. He’s warm, after all, and plenty comfortable, what with how he’s squished up against something even warmer that’s got arms wrapped around him. A heartbeat echoes in his own chest, and there are soft puffs of breath at his forehead…
Oh! Not something – someone.
That’s Josuke, holding him. The two of them are pressed so close together in Okuyasu’s shitty little bed that if one of them rolls over, all bets are off, and they’re in for a rude awakening courtesy of the floor. Fortunately, he feels too tangled up in Josuke to move even a little, and sets about holding him just as tight.
Last night, Josuke had stayed over, reassuring Okuyasu that no one will come to look for him because he’s got a couple days off. They showered together to avoid Keicho waking up suspicious if there were two taken, Josuke borrowed some pajamas, and then they fell into bed for the most restful sleep that Okuyasu’s had in his entire life. The calming effect of Josuke is second to none, and it very nearly lulls him back to sleep right now, but:
“Okuyasu!”
Shit.
That’s Keicho’s voice. Shit shit shit.
Okuyasu wrenches his eyes open, squirming in Josuke’s hold, scrambling to sit up but not really managing it.
Thanks to all of Okuyasu’s panicked movements, Josuke’s groggy eyes open, and his hold loosens some. “Whassit, Oku…?”
Managing to kind-of-sit and twist enough so he has a clear view of the door, there Keicho sure is, with a little frown in place as he stares riiight at Okuyasu. Who is very intimately tangled with Josuke, who’s got his hair down and is clad in clothes straight from Okuyasu’s drawer.
While Okuyasu himself is. Not wearing a shirt. Relying on Josuke’s arms for warmth. Their legs entwined under the blankets help, too.
“Kei – Keicho,” Okuyasu stutters, still stuck in bed and pinned by the weight of Keicho’s gaze as much as that of Josuke, “it’s – this isn’t –”
With a shake of the head, Keicho cuts off the rambling. “Who is that?”
“He’s –”
“Josuke Higashikata,” introduces himself, propped up on one arm some and looking just about as shocked awake as Okuyasu feels. “I’m –”
“Holy shit,” Keicho breathes, “you’re…” ‘super famous’ Okuyasu assumes the following hand motion means, “and you’re…with you…” he points between the two of them, this time, punctuating it with a grotesque hand gesture that strips their relationship down to its most vulgar form – oh God –
While Okuyasu squawks in mortification, Josuke keeps right on hurrying to explain. “N-no! I mean, yeah, but – that’s not – it’s –”
“We’re not just fucking I love him!” spills out all in one breath, and even Okuyasu is surprised at his own boldness there.
…His body makes up for it by flushing bright red and locking his jaw immediately, but hey! He got the important bit out. That has to count for something, even if the room goes uncomfortably quiet afterwards.
Keicho’s eyes narrow and he advances into the bedroom on a few slow steps. “And just how long have you two been…together?”
Arms winding tighter around Okuyasu, Josuke gulps. “About a year,” he says, sounding like he barely kept himself from tacking on a ‘sir’ afterward. Okuyasu knows how he feels.
“I was gonna tell you soon, bro, I swear – but –”
Keicho holds up a hand for quiet. He’s only about two steps away from the bed now, frowning down at where Okuyasu and Josuke are freshly untangled but still touching in plenty of places. He seems to be thinking, but at least he isn’t yelling. That’s probably next, because his jaw is working in that telltale way it does.
Any second now –
“Can you get us a record deal?”
Josuke blinks.
Okuyasu does, too.
Then they blink at each other for good measure.
“Um. Probably…?”
“Fuck yes!” Keicho crosses the last couple steps to the bedside, reaching over Okuyasu to clap a hand on Josuke’s shoulder. “Welcome to the family, famous bro-in-law!”