Work Text:
It wasn’t unusual to overhear phone calls. Camus tried to limit this as much as possible but sometimes where was no helping it. A phone could ring in an elevator or in a vehicle, forcing the other occupants to overhear what would otherwise be a private conversation. This ordinarily bothered Camus to a certain degree during everyday calls but when he was expecting an important phone call, it ramped up his concern. People were nosy enough as it was, without giving them any further invitation to question his personal life.
This just so happened to be one of those situations. Quartet Night was currently en route together on one of the buses that shuttles them to and from work engagements. His phone chimed continuously, the assigned ringtone for that particular caller. Without missing a beat, he slid his finger across the phone’s surface to answer.
“This is Camus.” He answered smoothly, holding the phone against his ear. He blocked out the ongoing conversation around him to focus on the caller’s voice. “The package is going to be delayed? For how long?” A few seconds passed before Camus cut the call off with a curt farewell.
It took Reiji mere seconds to pounce, yelling across the rows to Camus. “Who was that?” With only the four of them, they had their pick of the seating in the full-length coach bus. Reiji always commanded the back, saying that the cool kids always rode in the back. Camus preferred seating near the front, opening up space between the two.
“None of your business, Kotobuki.” Camus didn’t have to turn around to tell that Reiji was moping behind him. That served him just fine; Reiji could sulk all he wants. Camus had to focus on work so he shoved the thought of the phone call out of his mind for now.
He got a second call the day after. This wasn’t unexpected; he had specific instructions when handling this particular sort of package. He was to remain up to date with every movement the package made.
This phone call came through during a break. “Camus.” He repeated his name into the receiver, his attention was on the tea that had just been poured before him. As always, it was horribly bitter. Nothing a few dozen sugar cubes couldn’t fix.
His tea time companion fell silent. Camus attributed Cecil’s manners to his own teachings and gave a self-satisfied smirk. The news he received over the phone, however, quickly put an end to it.
“Another delay? What is it this time?” Cube after cube of sugar were stirred into his tea. The granules dissolving just as quick as Camus could add them. The spoon was used to mix perfect circles into the cup, cutting into the rising steam from the hot liquid. “The quality was compromised? Completely unacceptable. I require, and I believe I made this clear, that, yes. Yes, that’s correct. Keep me informed.” The call ended.
Cecil sipped his own tea, which involved much less sugar than the man before him, and chose not the question the call. It wasn’t good news, obvious by the way Camus’s hand shook when he continued to stir his tea.
Camus’s frustrations only grew over the upcoming days. He experienced bursts of notable frustration and considerable irritation. Any attempt to correct or point out this behaviour was met with nothing short of a sweeping tirade, grander than Camus’s usual.
He had received a third call with worse news. His package was held up at customs at a Tokyo airport. He could have it delivered with a significant delay or pick it up himself. So, he chose the second option. He wrangled Ren to be his driver, something the younger idol was all too happy to do.
The trip to the airport was quick and discreet. Camus was able to acquire his package without trouble, clutching it close during the ride back. It was a nondescript package with brown wrapping. There was some sort of logo stamped across the wrapping at regular intervals, written in fancy font.
“Hey, Baron,” Ren got Camus’s attention as he turned the car off, “do you mind coming with me for a minute? I’ll be quick.” The grip on the package tightened before relaxing. Ren was a man of his word and while Camus wanted nothing more than to rip into the package that very second, he maintained the air of dignity worthy of his title, and agreed.
Whatever he had in mind when he agreed sitting in the car certainly wasn’t this.
Ren lead him to a music room transformed. Music stands and mats were shoved into a corner, unused. Instead, there were chairs turned inward, forming a circle. Occupying the chairs were his other band members as well as Otoya, Syo, and Cecil. A fold up table was set up with what looked like bags of chips and soda on them. Camus would have thought it was some sort of ritual that he had walked into except there were no chalk drawings or long robes.
“What is this? What are you all doing?” All eyes were on him causing his grip to tighten on his package, clutched to his chest. Camus watched as Ren sidestepped into the room and closed the door behind them. Ice blue eyes darted from person to person, trying to figure out what could have brought on this strange behaviour.
Ren gestured to one of the two empty chairs in the circle. “Why don’t you take a seat?” The way it was said rubbed Camus the wrong way. It was soft, like he was a frightened animal. It was suspicious and Camus stood stubbornly just a few steps from the doorway.
“Tell me what this is.” He stood his ground, increasingly hostile. He would have to rethink his opinion of Ren, it would seem. He wasn’t expecting to be led into whatever trap this was. “I won’t stay for this. I will not be made into whatever joke this is.” Turning on his heel, any attempt to flee was blocked by Ren.
“We’re only trying to help you!” Reiji was calling from the circle. “Come over and sit down and we can discuss your problem! We’re all your friends here.”
Something Reiji said struck Camus. “What are you blathering on about? What problem?” The first thing his mind jumped to was sugar. Camus was self aware about the fact that he used what may be called higher amounts of sugar than the average man. But that was well explained, relating back to his childhood and homeland. It surely didn’t call for an intervention over sugar.
Reiji, who had most likely guessed that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with that particular tactic, changed gears. “What’s in the box?”
The package was still in Camus’s arms, its brown wrapping pulling the more pressure was applied to it. “None of your business.” And it wasn’t. It belonged to Camus and he didn’t plan on sharing. This was real special stuff, imported internationally under the watchful eye of Camus and multiple online trackers.
The younger idols fidgeted in their chairs, not wanting to jump in the middle of a conversation between Quartet Night. It would take Ranmaru to finally spit it out, stopping the song and dance. Ai just sat in the chair and let Ranmaru take the lead.
“The more you get into that stuff, the more it’ll drag you down. It’ll affect your performance and while you think you may have a grip on it now, you don’t.” Ranmaru crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair to get comfortable. His words had a hard edge into him, voice rougher than usual. “That’s what drugs do to you. They ruin your decision-making process and make you erratic.”
That halted Camus in his tracks. “What are you talking about?” He was on the wrong side of this conversation. He was being kept in the dark and lured into this obvious trap. Clearly, someone had the wrong message here but it wasn’t him. “Is that what you think this is about? I can assure you that you’re wrong.” Camus had to hold back a biting personal remark about how typical it was that Ranmaru was incorrect.
A finger was pointed at the box in Camus’s hands. “Then what’s in the box?”
Camus could hold back all the comments he wanted but his irritated attitude was shown in his actions. His boots snapped against the floor as he went over to the table. The box was slammed down, wrapping torn off and thrown. Multiple smaller boxes came into view. Camus took one of these and undid the ribbon to open the lid.
“These are what are in the boxes.” In plain view were single piece chocolates, nestled in an array within the gift box. The chocolates of varying types were neatly laid out in two rows. Some had white chocolate drizzled across the top of them, some had crushed nuts obviously seen within the chocolate.
Camus huffed, making no effort to hide how superior he felt in that very moment. “I had these specially ordered from an Italian chocolatier due to their claim of creating the best chocolate in the world.” Faces were falling all around him but his smirk stayed on his face. “There’s nothing criminal about that, is there?” Camus popped a chocolate in his mouth while he watched the scene around him fall apart.
Ranmaru immediately began snapping at Reiji, getting right up in the other man’s face, kicking up his chair behind him. Reiji was forced to back up, moving the empty chairs out of the circle to escape. The younger idols came together in a little conference. Camus could overhear them whispering frantically about the outcome of the failed intervention; Otoya had to text the others not to show up while Syo was asking if he could open the chips he had brought. Ai simply sat in his chair, on his phone.
Cecil stuttered. “But…! The quality that you mentioned…?”
“The quality of the chocolate. I demand nothing but the best.” The opened box of chocolates was already close to being finished. Camus had been looking forward to these too much to attempt to hold himself back now that the box had been opened. “There was a slight delay but it was sorted out.”
There was the sound to quick footsteps as Reiji managed to get away from Ranmaru. “But! You were being so secretive! If you had ordered chocolates, you should have just said so.” Crocodile tears began to fall as Reiji spread his arms wide, approaching Camus. “I was so worried! I thought you were dying!!”
A second box was opened in Camus’s hand, his other was used to shove Reiji off. “I don’t need your concern, Kotobuki. All I need are these chocolates. Now that they are in my possession, I will be going.”
Camus hauled his boxes out. Ranmaru followed Camus out, with Ai following silently. The tears were still flowing from Reiji as all the members of Quartet Night exited the room. There was a popping sound as Syo opened a bag of chips. He sat down in one of the abandoned chairs with Otoya and Cecil. The bag was offered to them.
“Want a chip?”