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Tomorrow is finally the opening night of Last Planet: Part One and, predictably, Banri can’t sleep.
At least now, it isn’t because of a fear of what tomorrow will bring, of what new way he can cause trouble for everyone. The last few weeks have been eventful in a way that the rest of Banri’s life has never been, for better or worse.
Now, the things keeping him awake aren’t the horrible rumors and harsh words of anonymous users on the internet. There are other things; things he’s tried to put off thinking about, but the silence of a dark room at nearly one in the morning allows those thoughts to seep back through.
Banri exhales slowly, eyes closed.
“Hyodo.”
No response.
“Oi, Hyodo.”
Nothing.
“I know you’re awake, daikon.”
Banri can hear the shift of a blanket on the other bed and a quiet grumble.
“Y’ got any idea what time it is?” Hyodo mumbles, his yawn practically a roar in the evening silence.
“Don’t try to pretend ya were asleep. We’ve been over this how many times?” Banri opens his eyes just to roll them. He plucks at a loose thread on his blanket. He should trim that sometime.
“Don’t mean I’m not tryin’,” Hyodo says. “Go to sleep already. Gonna be a big day tomorrow.”
“Ya think I haven’t been tryin’?” Banri asks. “I’m not awake for the hell of it.”
“...I know.” He’s quiet, but his tone is sincere. Hyodo had gotten a front row seat to just how poorly he’d slept the last few weeks, after all. “You okay?”
Banri chuckles once. What a far cry from the last time something like this happened, all those years ago.
“Yeah. Just excited, y’know? We’ve all worked our asses off for this, it's my first time as assistant director, and it’s been a long time since I’ve stood so close to center stage.” And he was still chasing after the feeling he’d had back then. He’d never felt closer to losing himself in his role as he had with Luciano. He never would have admitted it to himself back then, but Banri likes to think he’s matured at least a little when he knows a big part of that was acting opposite Hyodo, and the guy's contagious passion that sinks its claws in you and drags out your best performance.
This may not be quite the same, but Doug shares a lot of time on stage with Tig. Hyodo’s tips on dual wielding pistols were straight from Lansky’s experience.
“Guess I can understand.” Banri hears a bit more shuffling from his roommate. “Heh. Feels a little like it did back then, huh?”
“You mean when I won? Yeah.”
“You didn’t win shit, Settsu. That was my victory.”
“Fuck off with that, everybody knows it was mine!”
They both laugh a little, and Banri smiles up at the ceiling. It’s quiet again, but Banri feels better than before. Like a small weight's been lifted from his chest.
“...Your portrait was better this time.”
Banri blinks as those words sink down into his bones. Hyodo takes his silence as his cue to keep talking, apparently.
“Dunno if I’ve ever seen that side of ya before.” Hyodo pauses. “Guess that was kinda the point, though.”
Eventually, Banri manages to find his voice again. “I was thinkin’ with a real narrow scope back then. Now that it’s been a few years, I felt like I could see more of the bigger picture.”
There were still pieces of his original portrait that remained true, but Banri had wanted to hold them closer to his chest. There didn’t need to be video evidence and an audience of thousands to bear witness to some of his feelings about Hyodo. It had been easier to say, when it had just been the six of them in the theater back then.
“Like you’re one to talk, anyway. I saw a different side of ya recently too, y’know.” Banri takes a deep breath. This is something that might be easier to say now, too. Between just the two of them, in the part of the night where time starts to lose its meaning. Hyodo is quiet, so Banri presses on.
“I heard you talk to my mom when she was here.” And God if he hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. He laughs quietly to try and relieve some of his tension. “Little dramatic though, don'cha think? Did you seriously tell her you needed me?”
Banri swallows, heart in his throat as he takes a shaky breath.
“Were you ever gonna say that shit to my face? ‘Cause, you know...me too. I--”
A loud snore breaks through the silence and cuts him off, and Banri sees red. Again? Fucking seriously? He sits up, turning to face the other bunk, and glares down at Hyodo’s blissfully unaware face. Pale moonlight creeps through the window and highlights his unfurrowed brow, and the soft edges of his closed eyes. Banri wants to stare longer, to card a hand through ungelled hair, but he’s not about to let this shit play out the same way it did three years ago.
“Stop fuckin’ fallin’ asleep when people are tryin’ to confess to you, dammit! I’m not gonna let you do this again! ” Banri hisses, leaning over the divider to pinch Hyodo's nose.
It takes a few moments, and when he doesn't stir Banri clamps down tighter and Juza makes a disgruntled noise as his snores cut off and his eyes snap open. They squint up at Banri in confusion and anger as he lets go, still balancing himself over the divider.
"What the hell, Settsu? Why--" Juza starts, but Banri's hand is back and it slaps over his mouth.
"Keep your damn mouth shut and let me talk, asshole! Don't fall asleep in the middle of a fuckin' conversation!"
Hyodo exhales harshly through his nose and Banri can see the annoyance in his thick eyebrows, but his golden eyes don't leave Banri's. Good.
"If you hadn't dozed off you'd know I was in the middle of tellin' ya I know about your dirty little secret." Banri teases.
Hyodo's brow quirks and a confused sound is muffled against Banri's hand.
"Yeah. That day my mom came to visit? I heard ya talkin' to her."
Hyodo's eyes widen as his breathing starts to pick up. He reaches for Banri's wrist and after a brief struggle manages to pull it off his mouth.
"How much did ya hear?" Hyodo's voice is strained, and Banri's not sure if it's from sleep or stress. Banri figures he can let the man stew in that feeling for a bit longer. It's only fair; let this be a lesson to anyone who has the gall to fall asleep in the middle of an important discussion with Settsu Banri.
"How should I know? I saw you beggin' her to let me stay though, not sure when ya started up that part of the conversation." Juza is quiet and his hand tightens around Banri's wrist. At least he doesn't look like he's about to fall asleep. Looks too terrified to do that. "Dunno where you got the idea I was ever gonna leave, though."
Juza's gaze hardens as he rolls over and sits up, facing Banri properly. "You know just as well as I do how awful that shit was gettin'. Even my mom was worried about ya." ...She was? That's-- "What the hell else was I supposed to think when your family showed up for the first time since we moved in?"
"I already told ya I had no intention to give up acting, idiot. Whether that be for directing, or gettin' chased off stage by some bullshit rumor." Hyodo shouldn't have thought so hard about it; his head wasn't designed for that. Though his concern, even if unfounded, leaves a pleasant warmth in Banri's chest.
"You said that before shit hit the fan, though. How was I supposed to know ya still meant it?" Hyodo sighs, covering up part of his face with his hand as he looks away. "I'd never seriously considered ya leavin' before, but once I did…" Hyodo closes his eyes. "Might sound stupid, but I got scared."
Hyodo? Scared? The only thing that guy feared was running out of cake too soon. Banri doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't for Hyodo to admit something like this.
"Guess that's what happens when ya jump the gun, huh? This is why you should leave thinkin' to other people." Banri chuckles as Hyodo punches his arm.
"Can it, asshole. Next time I won't bother, then." Wait, dammit, Banri didn't mean to go that far.
"Take a joke, dumbass."
Hyodo glares at him and Banri tries to steady himself for what comes next.
"It might've been a stupid conclusion, but. Ugh, I don't mind that ya worried about me." Felt really good to know he cared so much, even. At least that caught Hyodo off guard. "But no matter what my mom woulda said, I wouldn't've left. I'm not a kid anymore, so she's got no say on what I do or don't do with my life, so that dumb speech of yours was wasted on her."
Hyodo's initial surprise starts to melt back into annoyance, and Banri keeps going to quickly cut off whatever nonsense he'd been about to say.
"That's the kinda shit you should say to a guy directly, y'know. Were you ever plannin' on sayin' anything to me?”
“...Maybe not like that,” Hyodo mumbles, looking down. “Last thing you need is your damn ego inflated more than it already is.”
It was now or never.
“But you meant it?” Banri searches Hyodo’s face for the answer, and his breath catches in his throat when those serious golden eyes meet Banri’s again, a determination burning in them that hadn’t been before.
“Every damn word.”
Banri remembers how to breathe as he smiles.
“In studying theater, I’ve realized there are plenty of actors that are better than Settsu.”
“That actor, Settsu Banri, though, he’s my biggest rival. And I’ve got no intention of losing to him even if I die.”
“Thanks to that passion and feeling, I’ve been able to grow.”
“And in the future, the more he grows, the more I will too.”
“It might be a selfish wish, but the actor Hyodo Juza needs the actor Settsu Banri.”
“Me too.”
“...Huh?” Hyodo blinks.
“Maybe the actor Settsu Banri needs the actor Hyodo Juza, too.”
“What?” Hyodo’s eyes are wide again, looking at Banri like there’s no way on earth he could have heard him right. This asshole better clean out his ears, because this confession has been a long time coming and he’s not gonna say it a third time.
“You seriously haven’t realized it for almost three years now? You got any idea how much shit the guys give me for this?” Banri laughs, feeling lighter as Hyodo starts to frown.
“I never woulda found theater if it wasn’t for you goin’ to the audition that day. It’s your damn fault I found somethin’ that makes me feel so alive, that fills the emptiness in me with a fire I didn’t even know existed back then. Sure, there’re countless actors out there better than you, but I could care less about ‘em. There’s a feelin’ I get when I stand on stage, that passion wellin’ up inside me, but it’s never stronger than when I’m standin’ there with you.”
Banri reaches his hand out, originally planning to fist it in Hyodo’s collar, but the dumbass reaches up and grabs it instead. He can’t help how his smile softens when Hyodo holds on tight, like he thinks Banri might disappear before he finishes what he started. No way in hell. He’s gotta say it now, before this dumbass falls asleep and he loses his resolve again. He squeezes Hyodo’s hand back.
“It’s always you that gets me fired up, Juza.”
His roommate’s grip tightens and Banri swears he sees his lip tremble before he’s pulled forward, and it takes him a moment to realize Hyodo’s wrapped him in a hug. Banri laughs once, strained with an emotion deep in his chest, and squeezes his eyes shut as he clings to Hyodo’s back desperately. He’s warm, and with his face buried against his neck Banri can smell his body wash and he can feel his eyes begin to water.
“I love you, Banri.” It’s whispered so softly Banri thinks he imagines it for a moment. Banri laughs again, and this time it chokes off into a sob. Hyodo pulls him closer, and Banri doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to let go.
“I was gonna say that first, asshole,” Banri says, shoving against him a little. He’s still having trouble processing the sound of his name in Juza’s voice. He shakily starts to move and Hyodo loosens his hold just enough for Banri to climb over the partition, but doesn’t let go completely. With that last barrier out of the way Banri presses against him fully and clings to him, a shiver going from head to toe when he feels the quick, gentle press of Hyodo’s lips against his temple.
“If you’re gonna kiss me then do it right.” One of Banri’s hands travels up to the back of Hyodo’s head, holding him in place as he brings their lips together properly. Hyodo makes a quiet sound that squeezes hard around Banri’s heart, and he loses himself in the heat of the kiss as Hyodo’s arms wrap around his waist and tug him even closer.
One kiss turns into two, turns into three, and Banri loses count as he finally takes what he’s waited years to taste. Unsurprisingly, there’s still a hint of vanilla from the ice cream Hyodo had before bed. There was little else that tasted better, but maybe that was just his mind in the heat of the moment talking.
Eventually they pulled back, but Banri didn’t let Hyodo go far as he smiled against his lips.
“I love you, too.”