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Sakyo sighs as Izumi pretends to fix his tie in a feeble excuse to look preoccupied. She had all but begged him to go as her plus-one for the wedding of her old high school senior, though the dormitory held people that are much more suited to this type of occasion than he is. Fushimi was free all weekend; why not him? No, it has to be you, Izumi had insisted. It was easier to just relent in the end.
A small group of what he could only assume to be former classmates approach them before the ceremony to greet Izumi. They take one good look at Sakyo and ask, with sly smiles, if he was her boyfriend.
He had already known that this isn’t going to work, even before Izumi first made her request. Her acting leaves something to be desired: should the theater be hijacked and the fate of all people within rest on the shoulders of their director’s ability to perform, then consider the entire Mankai Company dead. What makes her think that they could convincingly pass themselves off as a couple—that she could even last two or three conversations, much less an entire evening?
Shockingly enough, though, Izumi beams at the question and answers with an unwavering, “Yes!”
His chest clenches with a strange feeling. Nevertheless, like a true actor, he offers a courteous smile and introduces himself to his pretend-girlfriend’s squealing acquaintances.
Alright, so this is obviously going much better than he had accounted for.
The story Izumi feeds everyone who asks goes as such: they had become childhood friends during one summer when Izumi had dragged him into the old Mankai Theater. After Sakyo had moved away unexpectedly, they only reunited a couple of years ago at the revived Mankai Theater as the new director and a new actor. Sparks flew, feelings were realized, and now they’re dating.
(No one needed to know the finer details. Like the yazuka involvement.)
Still, it’s not too far off from their actual history. Maybe that’s what’s helping her stay consistent. The fact that Izumi is just so unbelievably happy at all the praises of such a romantic backstory might also be fueling the fantasy they laid out. Everything is so convincing that sometimes he forgets it’s not true himself—an arm around her shoulders shielding her away from the glances of reputably single men in the venue, a gentle stroke of her hair as she leans against his shoulder while they watch the bride and groom exchange their vows, a hand that finds its fingers entwined with hers without his notice as they’re shepherded to the reception hall. A teasing lilt in his voice as he feeds her a piece of grilled fish during the reception dinner, a closer embrace as they swayed from side to side on the dancefloor to a slow song, a finger that jokingly puts a dab of whipped cream on her nose from the slice of wedding cake served. Sakyo doesn’t apologize for any of these things out loud because it’ll ruin the act.
Somehow, he doesn’t want to apologize even if there was nothing to ruin.
Fingers suddenly begin to pinch his cheeks.
“Earth to Sakyo!” Izumi calls, lightly pulling his face in all sorts of directions. She’s certainly gotten bold, thinking being his pretend-girlfriend would let her get away with these things. Two can play at that game.
He softly presses his lips against her temple without a second thought. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What were you saying?”
The blush unfurling on her cheeks like a spring bloom is almost worth the rising shame threatening to spill from his chest. Sakyo can revel in this small victory, at least for now. He pushes the rest out of his mind as he listens to Izumi sputter out, “It’s starting to wind down, so do you want to head back to the hotel?”
Sakyo looks at the small clusters of people slowly trickling out of the reception hall; then, he checks the time. It really is adequately late enough that they can take their leave.
“We can, if you want,” Sakyo tells her. He reaches behind her chair to grab her coat and slip it onto her shoulders as they go to say their goodbyes and well-wishes to remaining classmates and the newlyweds. Not long after, Sakyo pulls Izumi a little closer to him, keeping her coat where it is as a sudden cold wind threatens to blow it away.
It should feel like the light at the end of the tunnel.
Right?
They’re not quite in the clear yet.
Sakyo had booked a single room for them in a place not too far from the venue to save some money, especially since Izumi had to pay out-of-pocket for the accommodations. As it so happened, several others who were attending the wedding had the same hotel in mind for their lodgings—so, in a way, they dodged a bullet ripping a hole through their story as a romantic and very-much-in-love young couple.
(Yes, they could have just said they were waiting until their future pretend-marriage to share the same room. They don’t bring that up.)
Fortunately, the single also has a couch with a pull-out bed for one of them to use, which Sakyo claimed for himself since he had planned to sleep on the floor anyway. It’s not like she would want to share with an old man like him.
“Sakyo, you’re thirty,” Izumi sighs as she rubs some life back into her feet after all those hours in heels. “You’re not an old man, even if the younger set call you one. You’re not even that much older than me.”
A look is quickly leveled her way. “Want me to get in bed with you that badly?”
The blush returns full-force, quickly shooting up to the tips of her ears. “I’m saying it’s big enough for two! With room to spare in between!” Izumi’s fingers twitch towards the pillows, perhaps in an attempt to throw one at him, but ultimately stay where they are by her sides. “After all I made you go through today, you should at least rest in a proper bed…”
He could always say no.
Instead, Sakyo sighs. “If you insist.”
The night goes quickly after: they both bathe and change into more casual sleeping attire, send some texts in the Mankai group chat to check in on everyone, briefly discuss some company logistics in regards to their upcoming quarterly budget. Neither of them had drunk very much during the reception, but the liquor left a comfortable warmth that weighed their bodies down into turning in relatively early.
They slip beneath the blanket, facing away from each other.
“Thank you again for this,” Izumi all but mumbles through the haze of sleep. “It was nice. I liked it.”
Liked what, exactly?
Before he can ask, the tell-tale sounds of light snoring filled the silence.
“Silly girl,” Sakyo whispers to himself, turning around to face her back. He’ll shamelessly blame the alcohol for how he reaches to card his hand through the lower tresses of her hair. “Don’t leave the conversation with such an open-ended statement.”
The sky is pinkening through their window when Sakyo wakes up.
Somehow, Izumi had managed to maneuver herself so that she’s thrown an arm over his waist and thoroughly tangled their legs together. Her face is loosely buried against his chest, a small trail of drool just barely missing his shirt.
Honestly…
Sakyo exhales through his nose and wonders what to do. This is merely method acting. They drank a little last night. She started it first. It’s a little chilly in the room, especially that particular morning. He has an entire list of excuses he could use to explain this.
He knows he won’t use any of them.
So, he just pulls her closer—pushing the pros and cons of moving past being just a pretend-boyfriend into the back of his mind as he entertains the thought of this moment being a reality in the future.