Chapter Text
Nakahara Chuuya is a popular Japanese French actor based in Tokyo. He is currently at the peak of his career, going to places all over the world to shoot for movies, promotions, series, among others.
Only he and his manager, Kouyou, know this but during these overseas or out-of-Tokyo shoots, he secretly spends a day or two exploring the city he’s in, blending in with the crowd in normal-people clothes + mask + hat so that no one recognizes him.
Chuuya didn’t come from a wealthy family. Everything that he has now is born out of his pure hard work ever since he was 18. And he has never actually been to places and never did vacations because he is sort of still in demand for nearly three years now. So even if it’s a pain for his manager who discusses things like this with the film management, it’s the only personal condition he has before he accepts offers—a day or two to himself so that he can check out places and just… be a normal person.
So far, he hasn’t been caught by any paparazzi or recognized by his fans. He’s careful so as not to ruin the days where he just relaxes and walks along the streets without being captured by cameras or stopped every two seconds by his fans. Of course, he’s thankful for them and their support, but sometimes he just wants to be alone and honestly, if it weren’t for these break days, he would’ve already gone insane with how busy and stressed he is with his job.
For this particular movie he’s going to be shooting, the location is situated in Yokohama and he arrives at the city a couple of days early to redeem the two-day sightseeing before the shoot.
As he strolls along the less busy streets of the city, he spots this old bookstore fascinated because he’s always been a bookworm and a fan of vintage. He enters to find the largest collection of classics, both foreign and Japanese ones—
Chuuya feels like he’s landed on a gold mine. The store’s deserted, to his relief and delight. He has always liked the peace, cozy and quiet of libraries, and this store gives him that vibe. Aside from that, he doesn’t want to be judged when he shamelessly sniffs some of the older books—he has always loved their smell.
Not a lot of people know, except for the things he shared during interviews, but he has always found comfort in reading. He doesn’t have to be anyone or do anything when he reads. He can just be a bystander to fictional characters’ lives, or he can live their lives through the book.
For almost an hour, he just roams around the bookshelves, scanning some of the ones he recognizes. A few times he just stands by a shelf, gaping in awe at the sheer amount he’s seeing. One particular shelf contains books that are really old, dating back to the 80s, and he’s just amazed as he’s glued in place.
Some of the other ones he remembers that they had discussed back in high school, or ones he has already read. Others have been on his to-read list since forever. Logically, he knows he can buy all the books he wants online but it’s a different, good feeling when you personally pick them from an array. Finding this store is a perfect opportunity to do that and he would buy everything that piqued his curiosity but… he’s just a small man—unfortunately—and he wouldn’t be able to carry all of them because he has a lot more places to go. And in all honesty, he probably will only be able to read one and the rest will be stored and will only gather dust (he hates that) because of how packed his schedule is for the year.
So he settles for one book and it takes a couple more minutes as he weighs his options between two choices. That’s when he sees—through his peripheral vision—someone lean at the edge of the bookshelf near where he’s deliberating, staring at him.
He doesn’t mind them because choosing which book he buys is currently much more important, forgetting for a moment that he may have already been recognized—but thankfully, he isn’t.
Though, it’s much worse.
“As much as I love having customers, we’re closing in five.”
Chuuya jumps slightly, hand clutching his heart, startled at the sudden interruption. He looks up to see a tall brunette, arms crossed on his chest with a bored, sort of you’re wasting my time, look on his face. Chuuya also didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice when he spoke.
Closing? But it’s barely 3 in the afternoon.
“Isn’t it a little too early to close?” Chuuya asks, genuinely curious. Sure, there are only a few people here—or one, at least because he can’t see anyone else in his vicinity— and it isn’t his business what time they close but he hasn’t even decided what book to buy yet. It’d be a shame if the owner wouldn’t be able to wait for just a few more minutes.
“There’s really not a point in opening the store longer than it’s supposed to if there won’t be any more customers, is there?” The man says with a little annoyance in his tone.
That’s insensitive. Chuuya raises his eyebrow as he cocks his head to the side, a bit of anger growing inside him.
Hello? Am I a fucking chicken then?
“Uhm… I am here?” he says, bobbing his head a little as if to say Duh?
But the man is deadpan when he speaks, not caring even if Chuuya’s a customer, “Not worth it too to open for one customer who has been in the store for hours but won’t even buy anything.”
With that, Chuuya gasps in offense. How rude. First of all, it has only been a little over an hour after he went in. And he was going to buy something actually, he’s choosing between his two options right now.
Another thing that has Chuuya somewhat raging is— is this how store staff are supposed to treat their customers? Everyone in the show business industry has been nice and pleasant to Chuuya—it’s usually the people you least expect, the famous cocky ones who are anything but, but that’s a story for another time—
It isn’t exactly the same setting, but he figures it’s also common courtesy to be kind—or at least, not rude— to everyone you just met, regardless of who you are.
Aside from that, Chuuya can’t deny that he finds the brunette attractive as hell. He couldn’t look past the caramel color of his eyes, sparkling under the warm light that the store has. Chuuya eyes the perfect cut of his jaw, the small bent on his nose, the brown curls, and the way he’s giving off a dark academia aesthetic with the brown checkered jeans and a collared shirt under a dark brown pullover that accentuates his eyes.
Having the work Chuuya has, he’s exposed to the out-of-this-world beauty and the intimidating but sexy aura of his costars. But for a long time, no one has really caught his attention. He has always thought of those beauties to only be skin deep and a product of cosmetics. Then he meets him, effortlessly beautiful and cool when Chuuya caught sight of him earlier. Too bad personality also matters for Chuuya, and he can’t like someone who doesn’t even have the least bit of decent manners.
Sucks. Chuuya would have been all over him.
When he finally replies, it’s in the friendliest tone he can muster—he’s been trained to be nice to everyone— he takes a deep breath first and he’s calm, not letting the boil of rage in the pit of his stomach show.
“I was actually deciding what to buy.” Before you interrupted me, asshole. But of course, Chuuya doesn’t say that.
“Can you hurry up then? I’m closing in three now and it’s either you’ve decided now and you’re going to buy it or I’m gonna leave, lock you in here, and see you tomorrow.”
He says all of that in a flat tone, and Chuuya can’t decide if he’s joking or actually serious. The seemingly void in his eyes doesn’t help. All his expression says is that he’s bored out of his mind and has a much better place to be than here.
Chuuya’s anger slowly rises to his mouth because he has a lot of words he wants to say right now—none of them particularly good for his image, but he figures he isn’t recognizable with his mask on so…
He takes the risk.
Damn the consequences.
The man hasn’t fully turned away yet when Chuuya speaks, “Are you always this rude?” Nonchalant but also unforgiving. An accusation that need not be confirmed. A rhetorical question.
And when he turns back to Chuuya, he scoffs before his lips form a small smug smile—clearly amused which just ticks something off in the redhead who is now very much pissed.
“That’s a shame because this bookstore is supposed to be heaven for people like me, only for us to be unfortunate to find the worst-possible, shitty person to be manning the place.”
It’s not the most ruthless insult Chuuya can think of because he’s not really the one to say these things, especially out loud and in public, but the curse that came out of his lips was said with venom. And even if Chuuya meant it as an insult—something to fire back to piss the man off as well—the latter just seems to be entertained by it as his smile grows. He cocks his head to the side, brown eyes almost disappearing as he squints—curious most likely… or wait—
Does he recognize me?
No—
Panic is slowly rising in Chuuya’s chest, the confidence he had earlier seemingly dissipating when—
“To answer your first question, no. I’m not always this rude. Just to the people I don’t care for or those I’m not interested with.”
He then takes big steps as he moves closer and closer, towering over Chuuya and all the latter can think about is fuck fuck fuck what is he doing?
“Furthermore, sir—” then the man bends his knees to level his face with Chuuya’s, inches away from each other that the smaller man can smell the minty fresh of the other’s breath even from beneath his mask.
Even if the logical thing to do is move away from him, Chuuya doesn’t. He doesn’t even budge or shrink within himself like he always does when he’s intimated because—
Chuuya is not at all. Rather, he seems to gravitate towards the man—attracted to the mysterious aura he’s emitting, like he’s a book he wants to open and read to figure out the story behind the growing mischievous spark in his eyes.
“If you wanted heaven, you could just ask.”
His voice is low, deep, inviting, and suggestive. His gaze— it’s like a fire has been lit up, flames dancing around in his eyes, sparkling and shouting danger! But all Chuuya thinks about is—
Yes. He wants whatever heaven this man is talking about.
Then as if Chuuya isn’t already fighting himself and being a hypocritical bitch, the brunette lips shine when he licks them agonizingly slow— showing off how skilled his tongue could be. And if it weren’t for Chuuya still holding on to his morals and the fucking damned mask he’s wearing, he would’ve given up to his gravity—falling into what will seem like the most beautiful mistake he’ll ever make.
His body is betraying him— his insides are turning into mush, his heart is thundering underneath his ribs, and he’s worried that the brunette hears it from where he’s still leaning so close to him. He feels hot and his whole face must be crimson from the way he feels like it’s burning. He is also very much having a strong urge to kiss him— to taste the heaven he’s been talking about on his lips.
But with the self-control he has been nurturing for a very long time now, he looks away—away from the temptation.
Why the fuck is the devil here?
When he steps back, his legs are shaking slightly and when he speaks—to fill the god-awful silence and replace the what-cannot-be-denied as sexual tension building—his voice is trembling, and he’s annoyed at himself because he has no control over what his body does. He couldn’t ground himself to not back down and not get intimated. And all he can do now is pretend it never happened and act normal.
“I’m gonna get this,” he says weakly, throat fucking dry—nice, what a way to be subtle, Chuuya— as he hands the Pride and Prejudice book and puts the other one back to the shelf. He doesn’t see how the other man leans back and smirks, seemingly proud of himself for something. He takes the book and proceeds to the cash register while Chuuya follows him from behind, keeping at least a few feet distance.
Now that his head is clearer and his other body parts seem to work properly now: first things first.
Did the brunette recognize it was him? Chuuya realizes that it may have been a glint of recognition he saw earlier and damn if that wouldn’t be bad.
>It’s going to hurt if he suddenly sees himself in news tabloids, or worse Twitter, in the next days and reads about him being rude to a bookstore employee. Even if he was the one who was rude first, the only thing people are going to see is that he, Nakahara Chuuya, was belittling a simple man who was only doing his job—or some other insinuations that he already read about with other celebrities. So far, Chuuya has done a good job with what he shows to the public—which means no scandals and no bad articles—and he’d like to keep it that way.
>Then, he’s going to get an earful about it from Kouyou—which, if you’ve been under her lovely guidance, is worse than having bad articles—and she’s finally going to have a reason to prohibit him from having these strolls alone again (because she has always been fussy about it risking his image one day). Fuck.
But the tall man would’ve already said something right? If he had recognized him? He seems young, so he probably has already seen some of Chuuya’s most popular works, or literally him on some of the biggest billboards in the city. People would normally ask for photographs or his signature. But that hasn’t happened nor has he said something to acknowledge his presence, so… Chuuya is taking that as a very good sign.
No one talks as Chuuya pays for his book, silence growing uncomfortably that he just wants to get out of here as fast as he can before he does something he’ll regret. But… he also wants to stay because…
Second things second.
Wasn’t this man just flirting with him? If he really didn’t recognize him, then he treated Chuuya like any other person. So… fame aside, was he also attracted to him? No one can deny that the sexual tension was so thick that anyone can cut through it with a knife. And thinking about it, Chuuya doesn’t seem to be appalled by the idea of flirting back and resolving said tension. If only he weren’t such a coward earlier, maybe he would have and they’re doing it alrea—
“Hello? Sir?”
His thoughts leave him as a brown bag and his change are slid over the counter towards him.
“Thanks,” he doesn’t even dare to glance back at the brunette. He doesn’t exactly know where they are, because one moment Chuuya was angry at him then the next one he’s practically drooling over him? It’s all confusing for the redhead.
“I’m sorry for being impolite earlier. I just had an exhausting rough day.”
His eyes snap back up and he can see how the other man’s grimacing, of embarrassment maybe.
That’s new. Chuuya guesses he still has a few decent manners and shame left stashed in his tall body somewhere.
“I’m sorry for calling you shitty earlier,” he’d offer a kind smile, but the mask is covering half of his face. So, he forces his eyes to show sincerity because he is.
The man chuckles lowly at that, “Believe me, that must have been the kindest description anyone has ever said to me.” Chuuya’s eyes soften, tension no longer there—thank god—
“Maybe you should start being nice to everyone then, not just people you like.”
“Yeah. I just might,” then he smiles, genuine and warm, with a dimple appearing at the side of his quirked lips. He should be smiling like that all the time, Chuuya ponders. If he had, this place would be packed by the number of people who’d visit just to see that smile—Chuuya definitely would, that’s for sure.
He takes the bag, feeling glad about the unprompted apology but also disappointed because… this will probably be the last time they’re going to meet—unless Chuuya finds the time to come back. As he nears the exit, he feels this heavy feeling in his chest—like he’s going to be missing out on a golden opportunity.
When he sees the entrance, he feels the need to comment, “You should be putting your correct store hours here. So that people would know when to leave and have ample time to choose a book without an employee pressuring them!” he shouts as he opens the doors.
He hears loud laughter from where he came from and, “I will! Thank you for that!”
When he walks away, his mind is overwhelmingly full of thoughts and blank at the same time. He hails a cab with an arm absentmindedly.
A car stops in front of him and when he opens the door, he hears a familiar voice, “Hey!”
He looks back to see the brunette running to him and he feels his heart skip a beat, hope blooming in his chest.
“You forgot your change.”
Oh.
And if disappointment shows on his face, Chuuya doesn’t bother to hide it.
“Thank you for that.” He receives the few bills of his change and he seems to be hyperaware of how the other man’s fingers graze his. His eyes smile at him when he looks up and he turns to hop in the vehicle when—
“Wait. May I know your name?”
Chuuya stills, heart racing in his chest. This is actually what he has been wanting the brunette to ask him, but he is hesitating. He doesn’t know how to or if he should even answer that.
While he has a few made-up names he goes by during these trips of his, he doesn’t want to give the man any of that. For some reason, he wants to say his real name— so that maybe, the brunette can find him someday while he’s still in Yokohama… it wouldn’t be that hard, anyway—
And when he does give his real name, Chuuya doesn’t know yet how the consequences of that will change the direction of his career… and his life for that matter—
Because that’s the thing about regrets. You’ll only know it is one when you’ve already done it and there’s no way you can take it back and undo it.
For now, Chuuya doesn’t let rationality take over.
For now, Chuuya doesn’t think about anything else.
For now, Chuuya gives in to the temptation.
“Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers so that the man is the only one who hears him. And when the other does, his eyes go wide in shock as he is hit with the realization—probably confirming what he thought earlier—that it’s the Nakahara Chuuya he’s talking to. He is speechless and he tries to say something but Chuuya sees it as an avenue to enter the cab and ride away.
When he looks back from the cab, he glances at how the brunette is still frozen in place. That’s when Chuuya realizes one of his soon-to-be-many regrets—he didn’t ask for the brunette’s name.
He slumps back to the seat with a heavy, frustrated sigh.
Ugh! Stupid Chuuya!