Chapter Text
“Yo, Zhao!” Kasuga hollered from the far end of the bar as soon as the door chime went off. He slapped the bar stool beside him with a level of enthusiasm that would have been three drinks deep for anyone else. Loud and glad to see any one of them was just room temp for Ichiban, Zhao had learned.
Wednesday nights were karaoke at Survive, apparently. The first week Zhao had been hanging around with Kasuga’s little crew he’d wandered in halfway through and managed to go unnoticed. Nanba and Adachi were so into snagging the mic that they kept all the attention on themselves for a solid hour with an interjection or two from Saeko.
This time he wasn’t going to be so lucky. Ichiban had texted him earlier in the afternoon out of the blue, asking if he’d come. Much as Zhao had wanted to be non-committal about it, he wasn’t exactly rolling in offers for other plans since stepping down from the Liumang. From what he’d witnessed the week before, the group of misfits had made a good time of it at least.
Zhao slid onto the stool by Kasuga’s as Saeko scrolled through songs on the tablet from up on the platform.
“Glad you made it,” he said with that smile that Zhao had already learned was signature Kasuga. The corners of his mouth and his eyes both worked overtime to pull it off, a big cheesy grin that never looked anything less than genuine.
Zhao gave in to a smirk as he took stock of the situation. From his spot by the piano, Adachi hurled suggestions at Saeko. Nanba slugged him in the shoulder, reminding the ex-cop that Saeko was too young to know half the songs he was calling out. Even Joon-gi offered an opinion from his spot in the corner, unfazed by the rest of them as ever.
“Would have hated to miss these professionals at work,” Zhao said, which Kasuga chuckled along at.
“At least there’s no pressure to take it too serious, right?” True enough, there wasn’t. The lot of them ran the whole spectrum of talent to tragedy and showmanship to sheltered. Saeko taking top marks for both was no surprise. Adachi was a shit singer but he put on a show and Nanba, by some miracle, was the inverse. Somehow it was actually Joon-gi, perfect in every other way, that was the complete karaoke embarrassment of the group.
When Saeko wrapped up another pop anthem to a round of applause, everyone’s attention immediately turned to Zhao and Kasuga’s end of the bar.
“Ichiban are you gonna go or what?” Adachi hassled.
“Hold on, Zhao didn’t sing last week either,” Saeko cut in. Hell, and he’d thought no one had noticed. When Kasuga opened his mouth, Zhao fully expected him to offer himself up and spare him entirely. True to his usual habit of making a mess, Kasuga managed to do almost the exact opposite.
“We can go together if you want,” Ichiban offered. “That’ll get you off the hook for a little while at least.” He smiled, because Ichiban always did, which made it a lot harder to say no.
It was a smile that caught Zhao off guard every time, like being touched on the back unexpectedly or being caught singing along to a song when he thought he’d been alone. It felt like someone standing too close, which was Kasuga’s entire vibe. It would have bothered Zhao less if he knew whether he liked it or hated it.
Zhao caved after all, because Kasuga was right. If he gave in and sung one round together now he’d probably be allowed to just relax with a few drinks the rest of the night while listening to everyone else.
They peered at the list of songs, shoulder to shoulder under the two spotlights over the stage corner. Kasuga scrolled through the list, eyebrows getting closer and closer together the further he went.
“Man I don’t know any of this shit,” he muttered as he kept swiping further down.
“Tch, let me see it,” Zhao said, swatting Ichiban’s hand away from the screen. They were going to be stuck up here staring at top 40 tracks all night if he was left to his own devices. Zhao pulled open the genre picker and, sure enough, found a whole list of 90s hits. “Better?”
“Oh!” Ichiban marveled like it wouldn’t have even occurred to him to change the filter. “Okay, yeah I know these.”
It was practically laughable how his face perked up, eyes shining and teeth back in full force. He’d have eventually figured it out on his own. Maybe. Or Saeko might have saved him. But it had been Zhao, so he was the one getting burnt up under that smile brighter than the spotlights.
“What about this one?” Ichi asked, pointing to a title Zhao knew he remembered but couldn’t quite place. He’d probably pick it up once he heard the opening. Better to let Ichi choose what he could work with instead of nitpicking it any further.
“Ready when you are,” Zhao said, and switched the power on his mic back on. Ah yeah, he did know this one, Zhao realized as the first few seconds rolled in. Easy stuff.
Ichiban got into it, which Zhao had fully expected. He wasn’t half bad, even if he’d made the dumbass mistake of choosing a song that was out of his range. His voice topped out on the higher bits in the chorus, which he wasn’t the least bit discouraged by.
Somewhere around the middle, Ichiban struggled his way through one of those high notes, laughing through it like he knew damn well he sounded ridiculous. What an absolute dork. His hand landed on Zhao’s shoulder and squeezed while he reached for it but just came out laughing harder instead.
Zhao’s mind went totally blank, stumbling over the next verse like he’d never heard it in his life. His eyes darted back up to the monitor where the lyrics were still playing. He knew the damn words. He could sing the damn words. He had to remember to look like he was having fun doing it too.
But Ichiban’s hand was still on his shoulder and it was warm. Too warm. Nobody’s hand was that warm, which meant it wasn’t Ichi that was hot. It was Zhao. For just a split second he entertained the idiot thought that it was the spotlights that had gotten too bright. They hadn’t changed, obviously. But he was burning up, starting at his shoulder and creping into his chest and—oh no.
No, he was absolutely not doing this shit. Kasuga? Why Kasuga?
He wasn’t even Zhao’s type. He was tall, sure, and confident in his own weird way. But he had the finesse of a truck and Zhao’s history was most like a downhill race on a mountain.
Ichiban, seriously? Ichiban who’d dropped out of school, crashed out of the yakuza too, and hadn’t actually earned the prison time he’d served either? He was a complete disaster. And too nice—way too nice for Zhao to be into him.
And yet apparently he was. What a fucking pain in the ass.
Without him hardly noticing, they’d managed to finish the song, get a couple cheers, and then Adachi was grabbing the mic back for yet another go.
“Didn’t know you could actually sing,” Ichiban said as they sat back down.
Zhao took that compliment like a jab to the chest. Part of him wanted it. Most of him didn’t want it. All of him was annoyed by it. And it didn’t matter because it was clearly just going to be there regardless. Zhao sighed.
“You’re a good guy, Kasuga,” he finally said while he waved down the bartender.
“Hey, so are you,” and Ichiban’s face did that thing again, that whole ass smile that couldn’t be kept down.
Apparently he was just going to have to deal with being thrown off by it on the regular now. How the hell did Ichiban continue finding ways to ruin Zhao’s day?
“I’m definitely not,” Zhao said with half a smile in spite of himself. “But I guess I don’t mind you thinking so, Kasuga.”