Work Text:
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Smoke filtered through the cracked window of the apartment as rain trickled down from the gutter to the sill. It was early, the pounding of the storm on the sides of the building had woken him far before his alarm, and despite his exhaustion, Uramichi knew from the soreness of his joints that he would have a difficult time falling back to sleep. And even if he did, it was not worth missing his alarm and work and the subsequent lecture he would receive, threatening his job security.
He watched the smoke filter up towards the heavy, dark clouds that encircled Tokyo’s sky, the rain droplets quickly making it dissipate before it could rise high to join them. It was risky, smoking inside, but Uramichi didn’t want to go out on the balcony on a cold and damp day like this, especially when he was already feeling so close to crumpling to any illness the wind blew his way.
It was Thursday, and he had been feeling like shit since Monday. He wouldn’t have the day off until Sunday like everyone else. Well, not like everyone else. If Uramichi wasn’t “Uramichi Oniisan” then he would’ve been able to take off at least one day. A month ago after filming their music video on the beach, Iketeru had been knocked out with a cold, and called out sick without much inconvenience. A few days later, Kumatani had called out too. There had been times before that though, throughout their time working together at the station, that Uramichi recalled Utano and even Usahara missing a day or two without any fuss.
They always managed to work around it, covering for the others, and Uramichi was certain it was possible for them to do the same if he was gone for a day- it wasn’t like the “ABC exercise” was anything an amateur couldn’t do, it was designed for kids after all- but the director had insisted they needed him.
He had tried yesterday, approaching Tekito-san when they were in the process of cleaning up the studio after they finished all the recordings. Uramichi was exhausted, and with the number of backflips and cartwheels that Director Tekito had him doing to make the show “more exciting” he was really worried about suffering an injury if he slipped up or his arms were a little too slow catching him as he bounded off the ground during a trick. He waited patiently for the perfect opportunity, making sure Tekito-san was in a good mood, that he would have his full attention, before walking over and explaining the situation.
“So, you see, I was just wondering if I could have tomorrow off? I’m really sorry, I just don’t want to push myself and-”
Tekito-san slung an arm around Uramichi’s neck, pulling him down closer to his height. He began to whisper in his gruff voice as if he was sharing a secret.
“Well, Uramichi-san, I understand that you’re feeling a bit tired. It is the middle of the week after all, but it’s probably just from staying up late. Try getting to bed earlier tonight, I guarantee you’ll feel better in the morning!”
“Ah, but, I haven’t been going to bed late. At least, not any later than I have been after cooking dinner or getting home from doing extra work here-”
“You see! That’s it!” He snapped his fingers and grinned, “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re one of those types who are super into nutrition and cooking. You should try focusing less on that, you can cut out some of that time at least once a week, right? Get some sleep time back by eating take-out, can’t you?”
“But, Director, I really don’t think it’s a lack of sleep. Iketeru and the others got days off when they weren’t feeling well, and the past few times I’ve asked for days off in advance they got cancelled due to a company project so I really need time to-”
“Well, you’re not vomiting or anything, are you? Listen, Uramichi-san, I really get where you’re coming from, but you’re basically the star of ‘Together with Maman’! I know it’s hard but sometimes in life you just can’t catch breaks. Weren’t you saying something like that to the kids in one of the takes earlier? Good advice. You should take it to heart. So, I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Oh, by the way, can you stay a bit longer and visit marketing? They need help translating another one of your sketches into a product design. It’s apparently super urgent so you might get home late. Alright then, good night!”
Uramichi learned the hard way that there was truth to the saying that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. He went home with even more bitterness towards his life than before, but the saddest part was he was beginning to notice his addled mind deluding himself that somehow the director was right. He wasn’t feverish, it was just exhaustion. He considered eating gross fast-food last night when he passed by a place walking home, thought about skipping a shower and his normal routine of compressing and stretching his muscles in favor of just going to sleep earlier. Obviously even if he had done all that, it would have all been for naught, as the storm shook him awake, but maybe he would have felt less miserable if he had saved those few minutes.
He snubbed out the burning end of his cigarette on the ashtray he had dragged over to the windowsill, sparing a glance at the alarm clock he often dragged into bed with him. It was almost six.
Well, he might as well try getting ready for work.
Walking to work was hell. It was only part of his commute, but it was enough to make him wish for the sweet release of death even more. He had brought an umbrella, but didn’t notice the fabric had gotten torn when he was slipping off of the bus, and so when he opened it up to walk the rest of the way to the MHK studio, his left shoulder was suddenly drenched. He thought he could survive if he twisted the umbrella so the ripped piece was further away from his body, but the wind decided to kick up just then so the entire umbrella was turned inside out and nearly turned into a skeleton. Uramichi ran the rest of the way to the studio, his mind full of thoughts wondering if he could have used the broken thing as a lightning rod to put himself out of his misery if he hadn’t thrown it away.
Uramichi tried to shake those thoughts away as soon as they came. Alongside any idealizations about his own death were always thoughts of the aftermath, especially when he was rundown. He couldn’t cope with his imagination conjuring up the traumatized faces of the children when they announced that their “gymnast oniisan” had been turned into a crisp in the middle of the sidewalk.
Managing to get inside the studio and sneak into his greenroom without anyone stopping him or expecting a proper greeting, Uramichi hurried to get changed into his costume. He had left his house early with nothing else to do, so he was hoping that he could hide long enough in here to give his mind a bit of rest, and to stop his vision from spinning and the edges from fading to black.
He was seriously going to kill Usahara.
Iketeru was at fault too, terrible at knocking and was the first one to disturb him before the recordings started, but he was an idiot so Uramichi cut him some slack. Usahara knew what he was doing, always trying to get a rise out of Uramichi as if he had a death wish.
That stupid, poorly dyed blonde head suddenly appeared in the reflection of his mirror after the door slammed open, a heavy kick and hearty laugh tormenting Uramichi’s ears as Usahara entered. Uramichi figured that he had sent Iketeru in as a test, trying to see if it was worth it to tease Uramichi this early. He must have not gotten the message. Or he really, really, had a death wish.
“Yo! Uramichi-san! The director sent us in to tell ya-”
“That’s a lie,” Kumatani deadpanned, “Usahara said he wanted to-”
“Both of you,” Uramichi hissed, not even meeting their reflections’ eyes, “Get out. I’m not in the mood to deal with either of your shit today.”
Normally he would feel bad about directing his anger at Kumatani too, but although he was never one to instigate any trouble with Uramichi, he wasn’t entirely innocent as a bystander to Usahara’s chaos.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you today?” Uramichi tucked his head against his arms on the table, listening as Usahara’s footsteps grew closer and circled around to the side of him. The idiot was probably leaning over and looking Uramichi up and down without picking up on his obvious leave me alone signals he was sending, if he got any closer- “Yo, I know you’re always grumpy but you seem more so than usua- URK!”
“What do you not understand about ‘get out’?” Uramichi asked, his hand wrapped around Ushara’s throat as he simultaneously held the man in place and pushed him away, his eyes blown wide despite the dark bruises that framed them.
Usahara managed to shove the hand off, and stumbled backwards with another choked noise, “Alright, alright, alright! I get it. What? Did you have another all nighter at the studio or something?”
“No, this exhaustion is the usual pain any adult goes through after days and days without rest. Months, actually. I tried asking Tekito-san for time off but he refused my request since I wasn’t infected with anything.”
“He probably only allows sick days when he’s afraid of parents calling if their kids get sick because of one of us,” Kumatani supplied.
“Still, why didn’t you just call out today and lie about it? He wouldn’t be able to tell unless he came over himself to examine you, and I doubt he would have that kind of time,” The sleeves of Usahara’s windbreaker crinkled as he folded his arms, the sound making Uramichi flinch and hunch over himself.
“He wouldn’t, but you guys don’t understand that there are only certain things you can lie to your boss about. Like how you lie about wanting to stay late, or wanting to wear a stupid costume during a scene they defintely don’t need you for and will only further humiliate your remaining fragile sense of self,” Uramichi’s hand balled up on the counter as he crumpled over, his voice breaking as he began to tremble as the dark shadow that followed him everywhere laid its full weight over him again, “You don’t lie about being sick, you lie about not being sick because you want to stay on his good side. You don’t want to piss him off because then anything you do after that is just a countdown to your firing.”
“Ah,” Usahara hummed like he knew everything. Uramichi bored a hole into his junior’s hollow head, daring his next words, “You asked off last night because you just didn’t think of doing it this morning. That’s why you’re stuck, you’re just too nice- ACK! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I give, I give, I give!”
Uramichi dropped Usahara to the floor, the fabric of the t-shirt slipping through his hands as he got up and made for the door to take a walk. If he couldn’t have peace and quiet in his own greenroom, then he would find some abandoned corner of the MHK building and hide out there until needed.
“Geez, you really are the same as ever, huh. Even when you’re exhausted,” Usahara sat up, rubbing his head where it had banged into the tile. He and Kumatani watched as Uramichi disappeared behind the door as it swung close, Usahara smoothing out his wrinkled shirt, pausing and clutching at where Uramichi’s hands had just left their marks, “But… he did feel kind of warm though…”
Uramichi had miscalculated.
He must have done something to piss Tekito off.
Maybe he had screwed up last night when he had kept running his mouth, begging for just a day to rest. Why else did the director keep making him do round-offs and handsprings down the floor over and over again for each segment and recording? Wouldn’t the trick grow stale on audiences after the third time? They were even beginning to lose the attention of the kid’s in the studio. He could see their eyes looking elsewhere as he flew through the air, glazing over with less and less amazement and more and more… concern? They must be noticing his annoyance. That wouldn’t do- if they start pointing it out, Uramichi would be under even more scrutiny than he already was. Hopefully it would be time to call in Kumao and Usao soon, that would at least maybe get the kids’ attention back and give Uramichi enough of a break to slip back into the few pieces of his persona that he had left.
He glanced to the cue card, his smile cracking as he saw the producer pointing to the same card again, emphasizing another round of exercise. Well, at least it wasn’t another set of tricks. He could probably make the kids do a cool-down now, do some stretches and spout some nonsense about the important of making your muscles relax after exercising (he knew it wasn’t nonsense, but at the moment where his brain was nothing but a fog under the hot studio lights and his mouth was running without his ears picking up on what he was saying, he was sure it would be nonsense if it was even comprehensible) and hopefully they would switch the cue cards to something else right after.
This was the second episode they were filming today, and knowing Tekito’s insane scheduling, they could have a third planned without telling the actors. He just had to hold on a little longer, and then he could get some water, because his throat was unbelievably dry and the studio’s air conditioning had to be broken, because he was sweating so much- but why did he suddenly feel cold as he opened his mouth to talk? The lights were nothing but glowing circles from behind the camera crew, and the rays of light coming out of them were slowly turning to complete black, like the backdrop of the studio was swallowing them whole. It was just a little longer, just a little longer, he kept telling himself, just a little-
“Alright everyone!” His hands clapped together, his gross, clammy palms sending shivers up his spine as he tried to smile despite the erratic pain in his chest, “Now let’s finish up with some ending stretches! It’s important to make sure you don’t strain anything before and after working out, and so your Oniisan will lead you through-”
“Director-san!” One of the kids suddenly pivoted around, yelling straight towards the cameras. Uramichi resisted the urge to scream. They would have to cut this take, which means they would make him do everything all over again. He fought back the urge to run forward and grab the kid, instead squatting down and tapping their shoulder, trying to gently twist them back around.
“What’s wrong, Suzuki-kun? There’s no need to bother Tekito-san. Oniisan can help you-”
“No!” Suzuki said firmly, and as Uramichi’s grip faltered they spun back around just out of his grip, “Director-san!”
“Hm? What is it?” For some reason, they kept the cameras rolling. Uramichi figured they were planning on somehow mixing this into the show.
“You said we could ask you if we needed anything, right?”
“That’s right. Is something the matter? Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
“No,” Suzuki said, and then seemed to fidget, either he forgot what he was going to ask, or was uncertain. Tekito leaned forward in his chair.
“Did you need something?”
“Just checking,” the kid turned back around. He was biting his lip and wringing his hands on the hem of his shirt, but his eyes seemed to be watching Uramichi’s every move. The man stiffened, unnerved by the way Suzuki seemed to be trying to look through him, his childish face not judging him, but scrutinizing him even more than Tekito was from his Director’s chair.
“A-alright everyone!” Uramichi repeated, clearing his throat past where it croaked, “Let’s all follow me as we do some cool-down stretches, okay? Let’s start by touching our toes s-l-o-w-l-y, okay? One, two, three-”
“Why are you sweating so much?”
Uramichi caught himself, blacking out when he leaned over, almost rolling into the kids if he hadn’t regained his consciousness and balance with the insensitive question another kid popped. He slowly rolled back up, careful to not completely black out as he tried to surmise some sort of answer, while still processing what had been said in the first place.
“Ah, well you see, kids. We exercised a lot today! And it’s hot in here, so my body is sweating to help cool off, like a shower! It’s really gross, so make sure to take an actual shower when you get home (and cherish it while you can, because when you become an adult, there might be some days where you can’t take a shower because you don’t have enough money to pay your water bill or go to a bathhouse!) But make sure to drink lots of water before and after you exercise to regain the water you lost when you sweat!”
“Then why aren’t we sweating as much as you?” Another girl, Erika, asked.
“That’s because you kids aren’t doing these exercises several times a day, filming multiple episodes,” Uramichi spat through a forced smile, “You all get to do ten minutes of exercise, and then get to go home and sleep! You should treasure your ability to do only that, because it’s a privilege you won’t have for long!”
“Hey,” one of the producers leaned over to whisper to Tekito, “Uramichi-san is looking kind of unsteady. Should we take a break?”
Tekito waved him off with his fan, “No, it’s just one of his usual low moments. Better to keep going. He’ll bounce back. Besides, he hasn’t said anything too out there that would upset our audiences yet.”
Uramichi looked over the sea of faces watching him, and suddenly felt very nervous. He was sweating more than usual, and for some reason these kids seemed to be staring him down. It was like he was melting under their gaze, he couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong, why were they all frowning, why were they all looking at him like that? He couldn’t remember the last thing he said. Had he let a curse or something really bad slip out? He tried to look towards the director to judge his expression, but just sliding his eyes over towards all the lights and visual noise made him stumble backwards-
“Director-san!” One of the kids screamed, pointing straight at Uramichi, “There’s something wrong with Uramichi Oniisan!”
It was like a chorus had been unleashed.
“He’s really red!”
“He’s sweating a lot!”
“Is it the Bacterium guy?”
“We should call the Jerminator!”
“Uramichi Oniisan is sick!”
Tekito sat up, adjusting his sunglasses as he pressed his lips into a thin line, “He’s not sick. Don’t worry, you’re not going to catch anything from him-”
“No! He’s sick!”
“He’s falling over! Look!”
Uramichi gave under all the noise, sitting down on the stage as he shut his eyes, throwing his hands over his knees as he tried to steady the frantic pounding in his chest. Arrhythmia, due to lack of sleep. He wasn’t a stranger to it, but it had been a while since it had gotten this bad. And it was starting to freak him out. His head was fuzzy and so every symptom now was beginning to make him panic. It felt like he was dying. He was dying. He was having a heart attack and he was going to die in front of all these kids and he needed to get off stage-
A tiny hand slammed itself against his forehead, forcing him to look up into the halos above the stage. The kids had formed a circle around him, with one of them, Suzuki, braving it and actually reaching out to check his temperature. He turned around and screamed to the Director, which did nothing to help Uramichi’s ears, “He’s burning up! Look! Come feel!”
If Uramichi had been more cognizant and not seconds away from a panic attack or vomiting, he would have snorted at the fact that Tekito couldn’t look and feel. It was one or the other, and you couldn’t see the temperature. He knew he was being ridiculous, and voicing these stupid, going-in-circles, pointless arguments really would mean nothing, so he kept them inside his head to amuse himself, and focus on something other than the overwhelming feeling of death.
He thought he heard Tekito-san’s chair squeak as the director started to get up, which freaked the hell out of Uramichi. The last thing he wanted was his boss of all things checking his temperature. Nevermind that he didn’t want to know how heartless the Director really was, if he would feel Uramichi had a fever and ignore it either way.
Uramichi wrapped his fingers loosely around Suzuki’s wrist and delicately pulled his palm off his forehead, letting go so he could push himself off the floor, forcing himself to stand once again. He swayed once, then twice, pushed his own palm against his face to block out some of the light as he struggled to focus on his shoes and not the children that kept clamouring around him. He just needed to breathe deep, and focus, and then he could maybe get off stage, or maybe it would all magically go away and he could keep on going. No, he just needed to get off stage for a moment, the shuffle behind the curtain and get a second to breathe, maybe some water, and then he could-
An arm wrapped around his shoulders, the heavy hand curling over the back of his head and tugging him close to the other person. Uramichi opened his eyes and stared into the all too familiar pink fuzzy material of Usao-kun’s suit. He put his hands up on the rabbit’s chest and began to push.
“Usahara. Knock it off. Let go. I can-”
“Just give it up, Uramichi,” the man whispered from underneath his rabbit mask, “You’re scaring the kids.”
That made Uramichi stiffen up. He peeked out from under Usahara’s arm, somewhat thankful for the way it blocked the oppressive light (although he would begrudge to admit it), and tried to get a proper look at the children still on stage. They were all looking up at him with muddled expressions, faces stricken with fear and worry as they continued to circle him nervously.
“Usao-kun, can you take of Uramichi Oniisan? He’s sick!”
Before anyone in sound could hit some stupid pre-recorded line and keep the scene going, Usahara spoke clearly, with his real voice, not his high pitched Usao voice-
“Yeah. He’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it. Thanks for looking after him, kids.”
And dragged him off stage. Just as they passed behind the curtain, Uramichi caught sight of Kumatani- dressed fully in his costume as well (likely as to not horrify the children)- storming onto the stage, blazing a path straight for Director Tekito.
“Tekito-san, we need to talk.”
“Uh, of course, Kumata- I mean, Kumao-kun! Let’s take a break everyone! Send the kids back to their parents, we’ll resume-!”
“Are you going to beat up Director-san, Kumao-kun?”
The stage door closed.
“I could’ve kept it up,” Uramichi said, staring into the darkness of the wet compress that had been laid over his eyes, “The kids just made me let my guard down. Never would have expected they would pick up on me like that.”
“You’re not exactly the best actor,” Usahara blurted out, dodging Uramichi’s hand which shot out in what would have been a perfect strike to the stomach, “What I mean- What I mean is-!” He sat back down on the metal folding chair they had pulled up to the couch that they had laid Uramichi down on, “You were in really bad shape up there. There was no way you could’ve hid that from anyone. ‘Cept the director.”
“Well, he’s an asshole,” Uramich lifted the compress off his face, sitting up on his elbows with a horror stricken face, “He’s not around to hear me say that, right?”
“No, you’re good. I think Kumatani is still chewing him out.”
“You should go and stop him. We don’t want him getting fired for doing something stupid like at his last job,” he covered his eyes and laid back down, resting his arms over his stomach, “Not that I think he would go that far for me.”
“Why don’t you think that?” Kumatani’s voice suddenly emerged, and Uramichi zeroed in on the sound of the footsteps growing closer to the couch. Before he could sit up again, a hand closed over his shoulder, holding him down while the other brushed against the compress, checking his forehead and keeping him from pulling the cloth off again, “Don’t move. You just need rest right now.”
“How’d it go?”
“Please just tell me you’re changed out of your costume now. I can’t take this seriously if you’re both still stuck in your dumb animal costumes,” Uramichi grumbled. Usahara hadn’t changed since he had been watching him since escorting him out of the studio.
“Couldn’t you tell by my hand? I changed out of it before coming over here. Director Tekito is giving us all the rest of the day off. You don’t have to come in tomorrow.”
“I’m not fired, am I?”
“No. I just managed to ‘convince’ him to give you another day off to rest up. That’s all I managed to get you, though.”
“You’re not fired, are you?”
“No. I held back because it was for you. If Tekito was acting like that around me, I probably would have gotten fired because I would’ve gotten physical right away.”
That got Uramichi to smile, so much so that he didn’t want the two of them to see it so he covered it with one hand and turned towards the back of the couch, hiding his face in the cushions as he breathed in and out, relaxing for the first time in days.
“Usahara, go get changed. I’ll stay here while you do.”
“We’re probably going to have to help him home, damn.”
“Don’t complain. You like crashing into my apartment all the time,” Uramichi imagined Usahara jumping when he spoke. The idiot probably thought he fell asleep that fast.
“Yeah, but that’s not when I’m supposed to nurse you back to health. I just know you’re going to be a pain to take care of. You already put up enough of a fight. Thank god you’re not contagious with anything serious.”
“Usahara, go. We should get out of here before the director changes his mind and keeps the both of us here for something stupid.”
“Alright, alright,” Uramichi listened as the door to the greenroom closed softly, and the quiet way Kumatani settled into the chair so it did not scrape or ding against the tile floor at all. There was the slight creak of weight shifting, and then a hand brushing over him again, pushing the clumped together strands out of Uramichi’s eyes before he leaned and sat back in the chair, just waiting and watching.
“You don’t have to help me home, you know. I’ll be fine.”
“We don’t need to be finding you dead in the street because you froze to death after passing out in the middle of a winter storm. Just think of it this way, the sooner we get you home, the sooner you get some rest and you might feel up to doing something you actually enjoy on your day off. We can go drinking again maybe, not just for stress, but for a proper meal. And you can listen to Usahara’s stupid stories and not think about… life for a bit.”
“Well,” Uramichi’s smile deepened, and he found himself shifting as he got even more comfortable against the couch, trying to not fall into slumber even when his body and brain wanted nothing more than to shut off this instant, because he knew he would have to move again soon, “Aren’t you both good juniors? Who would’ve thought?”
“We try our best. You could do a little to rely on us some more… Uramichi-senpai.”
The older man breathed out, feeling himself begin to drift, only loosely, just below the surface of consciousness. Once Usahara returned, him and Kumatani helped stabilize Uramichi while he changed, the man too tired to put up a fight against the embarrassment of having to lean on two people to get his pants on properly, and then the three of them hobbled back to Uramichi’s apartment together. They hailed a taxi and once they arrived they then dragged him inside the building and up the elevator, practically carrying the man to his bedroom before breaking into tasks. Kumatani stayed behind to begin cooking lunch for the three of them and Usahara yelped as he tried to escape the apartment to run to the store to restock their senior’s fridge and buy him a new umbrella. He kept tripping on the dumbbells Uramichi left scattered all over the place.
Uramichi listened with a smile everytime Usahara stubbed his toe, lulled into peace by the mismatch between Usahara’s cries and the smell of Kumatani’s cooking. It was noisy, it was annoying, but it was enough to distract him from the terrifying thoughts that crept into his mind whenever he tried to lay down and rest.
It was enough. It was just enough.
And so slowly, Uramichi finally fell asleep.