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The moment Ranmaru was introduced to the bandmates he’d been assigned, he knew one thing: he hated Reiji Kotobuki. Ranmaru had gone into the meeting already irritated from an early alarm clock and a skipped breakfast. The nerves of not knowing who would be waiting in that room kept him on edge during the train ride to the agency, and by the time he’d arrived, he wanted to leave. The moment he opened the door and saw the man standing inside, he clenched his jaw to keep from scowling.
Ranmaru had seen him on television countless times, bright and perky, always answering questions perfectly, never wavering in his composure. The music he had put out as a solo artist had been good. Even when sounds didn’t seem like they’d work, he always seemed to make the music his own, to force conflicting melodies to bend to his own design into something perfect. He was skilled, the perfect bandmate, the perfect performer, the perfect idol. Everyone always loved him.
Ranmaru had never been one to jump on trends. Maybe contrarianism could be counted as a flaw, but he held it close to his chest. Reiji was too perfect, adored by far too many people. While Ranmaru could admit that he had a certain pull, a gravity that dragged anyone around him in, he refused to be part of that. That excited smile and bubbly voice wasn’t going to lure him.
He shook the man’s hand with hesitation, and did his best to ignore the chipper way Reiji introduced himself, just nodding as he spewed off his background-- he had been an idol for almost a decade, had topped just about every chart in Japan, and he would do his best for Quartet Night. Ranmaru didn’t say much, letting the man fill the room with the sound of his voice.
He was grateful for the entrance of the next two members, finding himself glad not to be alone with Reiji anymore. The room seemed too small when it was just the two of them. With more people, there was a buffer. Ranmaru could look at anyone besides him, give attention to the other voices. That bright smile didn’t dim, but there were others to absorb some of its light.
The idea of setting up an apartment with Reiji frustrated him. The other two seemed easy enough to ignore. On first instinct, Camus seemed like it might be fun to argue with, and Ai was someone he could cohabitate with without thinking about too much. But Reiji was too hard to push aside. His presence took up the entire room, and in an apartment there would be no escape.
Ranmaru didn’t get the chance to linger on the thought for too long. Shortly after their first meeting, the four were rushed out to a short meet and greet. They didn’t have a single. They didn’t have a proper image. They could barely be considered a band. Yet, a flock of people were excited to see them. More specifically, they were excited to see Reiji.
It was strange to see him in action just a meter away instead of through a screen. His smiles were warm, and he was liberal with hugs, happily speaking to fans. When asked for photos, for cute poses with kisses on cheeks and hands in the shape of hearts, he obliged without question. Between his own small chats with the few fans that came toward him, Ranmaru found himself paying attention to the man beside him. He could pick up on a good amount of the conversations, hearing constant exclamations of love, praise for his voice and his beauty.
At his own little booth, Ranmaru mostly exchanged short introductions, promising fans he would do his best for the group. No one praised him for being pretty. No one told him that he was anything special. Barely anyone asked for photos. It was irritating, seeing the man beside him so loved, so desired. Sure, no one knew who Ranmaru was yet. But there was still a frustration building inside him. The idea that he couldn’t seem to compare, couldn’t seem to get on his level, irritated him.
His eyes wandered back toward Reiji more often than he would have liked, and he did his best to harden his gaze each time he was caught. It must have been nice to be met with such affection from so many people, to have skills that so many adored, to be so beautiful.
When the last of the fans-- Reiji’s fans-- had gone, the man hurried to Ranmaru, that same big smile plastered across his lips. “You did so good! You didn’t look nearly as nervous as I did my first time doing something like this.” That chipper laugh came, and it was all Ranmaru could do not to scoff at the praise laid upon him. He hadn’t done anything. All eyes had been on Reiji. “We should get a picture, too, just the two of us.”
Ranmaru opened his mouth to argue. He didn’t need a picture with the man-- they’d have plenty of promotional shoots coming, and they’d see each other often enough in the same apartment that a photo would never be needed for each to remember the way the other looked. It was unnecessary. But before the words could leave his lips, there was an arm around his shoulders and his face, void of any expression, appeared next to Reiji’s on a phone screen. The snap of the camera was loud and grated at his ears, but he didn’t argue.
The car ride home wasn’t quiet, but at least nothing was asked of Ranmaru. Reiji busied himself with getting to know the other two men, and Ranmaru allowed himself to remain quiet, leaning back and letting his eyes fall shut. Did the man ever stop talking? And did he ever quit with the chipper compliments and praise? None of them had done anything today but stand around and attempt to look pretty for the few people interested in getting photos. He didn’t need to tell them they’d been excellent-- they’d barely done anything at all.
Ranmaru was grateful to escape the car, and even more so when he found his way to his room. There were boxes scattered about, which he would need to deal with later, but for now he just wanted to sleep. It was exhausting to watch Reiji flit around from person to person, beaming and cracking jokes, watching someone new fall in love with him every thirty seconds.
He lay there in the too-new bed, staring up at the freshly painted ceiling. What was it about that man that was so frustrating? He was sweet, and the way that dark hair fell so perfectly into place, and that bright smile that made Ranmaru feel like he was being pulled into orbit around it, none of it was bad. Begrudgingly, he might even admit that those were positive traits.
But Ranmaru wasn’t the only one that felt that gravity. Everyone who saw those puppy eyes was drawn in. He was like one of those planets with hundreds of moons, all of which crashed into each other, none of which was ever really distinct. Too many people were vying for his attention, aching for his love of someone so perfect. None of them stood a fighting chance. Ranmaru may not have been a betting man, but he knew enough to know when to quit. He knew when to ignore the tug at his heart when Reiji poured out the compliments. If he tried, he could pretend the flush in his cheeks was just irritation and the flutter in his stomach was nausea.
Four in the morning, with lights of nearby skyscrapers pouring in through open curtains, Ranmaru needed to move. The room around him was silent. He needed sound. He needed to run. He sighed, pulling on his shoes and popping in his earbuds before stepping out of the room. He had no idea what the others’ schedules were like-- he did his best to be quiet, muffling each footfall as he moved down the dark hallway. He paused when he heard a voice from the slightly ajar door beside his own.
“I’m telling you. He looks just like him. And I swear when he talks it’s the same voice.” The twinkle in the man’s voice was gone, replaced with a tightness Ranmaru had never heard. “No, no it’s… I’ll be okay. I’m not going to quit. I’m--” Reiji seemed to be cut off. Was he on the phone this early? “Right. I’m sorry. Yeah. I know. I know.” A pause, a sigh. “Love you, too, mom. Bye bye.”
Ranmaru furrowed his brow. Sure, he’d only ever seen the man on television and only heard him on the radio, but he didn’t think he could have imagined what Reiji Kotobuki might sound like when he was sad. Fuck, he wasn’t sure he could have pictured him being down at all.
The door opened, and Ranmaru blinked. Reiji froze, confusion written on his face. Christ, his eyes were puffy. Were his cheeks wet?
“I.. Hey. I was just on my way out for a run. I didn’t mean to listen in,” Ranmaru said. He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Are you… okay?”
Reiji was quiet as he nodded. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like this.”
Ranmaru frowned. Was that really what he was worried about right now? “Do you… want to talk about it?” This was the last thing he should be doing. He should be focusing on ignoring the man and not letting himself get too fond.
“No, no. Don’t let me get between you and your run.”
“Grab a jacket. We’ll make it a walk.” Shit. Why did he say that?
Reiji looked hesitant, but he nodded, following Ranmaru to the door. As they slipped outside, onto the quiet city street, he was silent. Ranmaru did his best not to think about how pretty it was when the light bounced off the man’s hair.
“My best friend disappeared about a year ago,” Reiji said. “Ai looks… He looks and sounds just like he did. I join a group to try and get it together and move on, and suddenly it’s like he’s there again.”
Ranmaru nodded. He had heard about the disappearance of Aine Kisaragi. Everyone had. He hadn’t realized he and Reiji were that close. And it hadn’t struck him until it was pointed out how similar the two-- Ai and Aine-- really were. All of that had happened not too long ago. If Reiji had been that close to the man, seeing a doppelganger must have been jarring. “That sounds rough.”
Reiji nodded. “But… it’s just something I’ll get used to. I’ll be fine. I am fine. It just really threw me off.” He sighed. “Thanks for this. And sorry, again. For dumping all this on you. We just met and you already caught me crying. We’re moving awful fast,” he said with a laugh. It was light, breathy. Was that what his laugh sounded like when it wasn’t for a camera?
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all got our shit.” He shrugged, doing his best to remain casual. Reiji was right-- it was a lot. And Ranmaru couldn’t imagine he would open up to many people about that. It would break that carefully crafted, smiling persona. It was jarring to see the cracks in that image, but Ranmaru was almost grateful to see them. How many people had actually seen Reiji Kotobuki express anything but joy?
“And what’s your shit, then?” Reiji said it with a smile that didn’t seem quite as blinding as usual. It was nice.
There was a part of him that didn’t want to talk about it, and that part was sure Reiji wouldn’t hound him too much if he didn’t really get into it. If he didn’t open up, Reiji wouldn’t be able to weasel his way inside and get to him. If he kept his mouth shut, Ranmaru couldn’t get pulled into that orbit. But part of him knew that if he was really, truly trying to stay away, he wouldn’t be walking side by side with him, mere centimeters from touching, through the dark streets of Tokyo at four in the morning after finding him crying in his room. If he was trying to keep out of orbit, he had already failed.
“I’ve got a list. Dad issues. Past bandmate issues. I fall for the wrong people. There’s plenty to unpack.”
Reiji bumped Ranmaru’s shoulder with his own. “It sounds like we’ve got enough in common to get along great.” That laugh came again, and Ranmaru swore it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard. As Ranmaru tried not to look too intently at the man’s eyes, they lit up. A hand gripped his wrist, and Reiji began to pull him forward. A few meters ahead, a small coffee shop’s light flicked on, neon sign buzzing. “Have you ever been here? They’ve got the best donuts in Tokyo. Breakfast is on me.”
This excitement in his voice was different. His smile still glowed, but he seemed softer, somehow, than he did when he was lit by the glaring lights of the television. Ranmaru wondered how many people ever really saw this part of him. Everyone wanted Reiji Kotobuki. Ranmaru was nothing special in that regard. But… Of the thousands, how many got to see Reiji? Really see him, lit by neon signs in the early morning, picking out donuts and drinks with tired and reddened eyes and the softest smile on his lips?
As they walked out, donuts and coffee in hand, Ranmaru felt himself relax. This was the opposite of what he’d planned. He had meant to avoid this exact scenario. Ranmaru didn’t follow trends. He didn’t rush after things he knew he could never have. He didn’t fight crowds for the attention of a perfect man. The idea of competing for someone, knowing people would kill to love him, knowing he was only one in a thousand, impossible to notice among the ocean of adoration; he hated it. He had pushed the concept of joining the swarm out of his mind the moment his eyes landed on Reiji in the agency’s meeting room.
But it wasn’t a competition, was it? He was here, Reiji at his side, excitedly telling him about the first time he’d been to this particular café. Reiji had smiled, a real, soft smile, for him. Maybe Reiji was just good at making people feel like they were the only thing in his world, but listening to him as they walked put him at ease. It didn’t feel like being one of a hundred moons swarming a massive planet. Here, as the sun peeked above the horizon, they were binary stars. Reiji spoke to him like an old friend, and Ranmaru wanted so badly to do anything that would keep that gentle smile there, keep him talking in that soft tone.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe this was an awkward morning and tomorrow Reiji would make it clear that Ranmaru was just another man who’d been caught up in the sparkle in his eyes. But maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t. Maybe they could spend every morning like this, side by side, sipping coffee. It was a risk Ranmaru would allow himself to take.