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Smoke fills the air in front of Rei’s face as he puffs on his cigar, watching the small grey clouds float off the balcony outside Rosho’s apartment and into the clear night sky. He knows his teammates are behind him, on the other side of the sliding door, but he hasn’t felt so alone out here in a long time. He sighs, leaning over the side and pulling his coat further around himself as a cool breeze blows through.
It’s always cold nights like this that get him. He’s gotten so accustomed to the warmth of a bar late at night, alcohol and smoke scents twisting together in the air. He sighs, letting the grey smoke slip between his lips into the night.
It’s always cold nights like this, he muses, where he overthinks.
He’s so used to warmth; the warmth of his sons from years past. Hope was so hard to have, in that day and age, but Rei knew Ichiro was always there. His eldest son, for the time he was with him, was his pride and joy; he had always wanted a son, wanted to do all the father-son things he hadn’t gotten to experience as a young boy for…rather obvious reasons. And even if Ichiro had not been born his son, even if he refuses to call himself Rei’s son now, he always will be. Then there had been Jiro, warm in the same way as his elder brother, except Jiro had one striking yellow eye that his mother had nearly cried upon seeing. Rei knew that Jiro had always been her favorite, even if she’d vehemently denied it when Rei would tease her. Saburo had been the last, just as much of a spitfire then as he seems to be now. However spunky he might have been, however, he will always be the precious youngest son.
And then it had all come crashing down when she died.
The love of his life, stolen away from him by the cruel coldness of this world…and then Ichiro was gone too. Took his brothers and ran, out into that cold unforgiving world and never returned. Later, Rei would hear the stories of a seventeen-year old boy with a name obviously not given at birth and the most strikingly unique eyes in all of Japan, woven for him by a being of his own creation. To say he saw-sees, really-Ramuda as a son wouldn’t be quite right; it’s more so reluctant brotherly affection, if that. And so, Rei finds himself here, refusing to show any attachment to his teammates in fear of losing them again.
He thinks about what Sasara told him; about how he and Rosho were always two against the world, back before they split, and now that they’re reunited again. Rei wouldn’t mind that, really, having a partner to go through life with. A duo.
Except there’s nobody left. Sasara and Rosho have each other, and Rei’s happy for them, really. He just really wishes there was someone he could devote himself to so fully, stop bouncing from partner to partner, stop drifting around with nobody to tether him down.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter, Rei tells himself, finishing off his cigar and heading back inside. Sasara’s laughing, loud and bright and probably at his own damn joke. Rosho is there too, flushed red and whether it’s from Sasara or the alcohol, Rei isn’t sure. “Hey, hey, Rei, Rei~!” Sasara cheers, drunkenly beckoning his friend over. “Cmonnnnnn, we don’t needa designated driver tonight…cmon ‘n have a drink.”
Rei glances at Rosho, who shrugs. “I told him he could stay…I don’t mind you stayin’ too. Not like we got anythin’ to do tomorrow.” Rosho’s natural dialect slips out, a sign of trust.
Or drunkenness. Rei’s okay with either.
“Maybe I do. You two know what I do most nights, after all.” Rei says evenly, keeping his tone light and unbothered as always.
“Rei gets bitches! Always leavin’ us in the dust for some lady-frieeeeend~.” Sasara crows, pointing accusingly at the conman, who puts his hand over his heart in mock hurt. In all honesty he hadn’t meant it like that, his statement more so in reference to his swindling misadventures around their division, but technically Sasara isn’t wrong. Even if just moments ago he’d been lamenting his lack of real love.
“And here I thought you and teach were happy for me.” Rei snarks , grabbing a beer left on the table. It’s approaching warm, but not disgustingly so, so he’ll take it. Sasara leans over, draping an arm over his shoulder and leaning up against his side. He’s…close. Warm. Something pools in Rei’s gut and he shoves it down even as it struggles to pour out all his loneliness onto the floor like beer spilling from a tap.
-
“We are.” Rosho says, quietly, eyes flitting from Rei to Sasara as he feels himself loosening up for the night. Rei pulls down his sunglasses, staring at Rosho over the top of them with a cold gaze that locks him in place.
And Rosho isn’t lying; unsavory as Rei’s job might be he does have some kind of weird respect for him; only he would be ballsy enough to do shit like that so openly in front of people.
That, or he trusts them. Which is kind of horrifying to consider, Rosho thinks. He hasn’t had anyone trust him-hasn’t been close enough to anyone for them to trust him-since Sasara. Back then, back when the world was just something to be climbed and he was so, so naive. His entire life he’s needed to reach the top, be the overachiever; not that he blames Sasara for making him feel like that. It’s never Sasara’s fault. Ambition is just in his nature-once Rosho might’ve thought him hedonistic, but he’s on more of a quest to make the world laugh than himself. It’s almost noble, in a sense.
It’s almost nice to be trusted again, Rosho decides. Even if Rei is skeevy as all hell he did help him mend his relationship with Sasara, which Rosho knows he wouldn’t have done if he didn’t care at least a little bit. The guy’s an enigma, really, and Rosho tries not to think about how badly he wants to solve the puzzle that is Amayado Rei’s mind; and he wouldn’t mind Sasara by his side while he does.
Because they aren’t really just a duo anymore, are they? Back when they first met Rei Rosho had gotten damn good at pretending he wasn’t there; that he was just a background to him and Sasara. But a man as big as him both in ego and literal size is not easy to ignore, and so two became three. And Rosho…Rosho doesn’t hate him. He did, maybe, back then, but that’s the past and this is the present. And what they’re fighting for? What they’re fighting for is their future.
He doesn’t think much about his future; back before he’d left Sasara he had always looked into his future and saw them, together, living life as big shots of Japan, outshining all the other comedians who dared challenge the kings. Now, they’re still fighting for the top; except now it’s as rappers rather than comedy partners. And Rei is part of that fight too, reluctant as Rosho is (or was) about it. They’re a trio, whether they like it or not, now and in that future they’re trying so desperately to obtain.
On the rare occasion he does consider his future, Rosho allows himself a tiny bit of self-indulgence. Lets himself think that even after all this is over Sasara-and Rei, always Rei, ever since he’d barged in their life with no intention to leave it, not that Rosho has a problem with this-and him will be together, in this same apartment smack dab in the middle of bustling Osaka-just the way he knows both Rei and Sasara like it. He isn’t as much of a nightlife guy as the others, but he could get used to it. For them. He’d do anything for them.
That’s why they have to win the DRB. Because Rosho can’t have his stupid little domestic fantasy without it; and hell, they don’t even need to love him. He’d be perfectly content to stay by their sides in any case…romance is just a bonus.
It’s then he realizes that they’re still staring at him, Sasara’s eyes just barely shut and Rei’s inquisitive over the top of his sunglasses. Rosho feels heat under their gaze-but it isn’t suffocating, like how he gets on-stage. It’s more of a…tender warmth, one that fills him with an overwhelming need to be held, embarrassing as it is to admit to himself. His mind falls back into one of his daydreams, with Sasara tucked up asleep against his side, the way he used to do on bus rides home from late-night comedy shows, and Rei’s stupidly fluffy coat draped over them, a constant weight keeping him tethered to the Earth, comforting.
Of course, he knows he can’t have that. Not yet, at least.
-
“Roshooooooooo…” Sasara drawls, completely off his ass drunk by this point. He doesn’t have any time to care about that, though, because Rosho’s all the way over there, and Sasara wants him close! And so he sets out to solve this problem with a call of his friend’s name and a beckon with his finger. Rei’s sitting on the couch, now, which is a problem, because he wants both his teammates close ‘n snuggly and warm like that, but they’re so far away from each other!! He wants to be with Rosho and Rei, but Rosho is standing there with that dumb look he gets when he’s overthinking, and Rei is all the way over on the couch, comfy with his fuzzy old jacket without Sasara. A scandal for the ages!
“We’re gonna drink alllllll night….and maybe even in the mornin’, y’know? It’ll be a reaaaaal tequila sunrise theeeen….” He can hear himself slur his words, but he’s alert enough to notice Rosho finally flopping onto the couch with a world weary sigh.
“That would’ve been better if any of us actually liked tequila.” he sighs, and Rei makes a noncommittal noise before an oomph as Sasara falls over next to him, subconsciously snuggling into his side. There, there, now he’s all warm! He grabs Rosho’s wrist, wanting his oldest friend to be able to feel just how warm and cozy it is.
“How do you know I don’t, hm?” Rei asks, and it takes Sasara a second to realize he means Rosho’s tequila comment. Rosho shrugs.
“I dunno. You mentioned it at some point, I think.” Sasara nods; they all remember the little things about each other, intentionally or otherwise. It just goes to show how bonded they’ve become, he thinks giddily. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but he’s just…really in love with them. Both of them.
Rei takes a swig of his newest beer. “Not bad.” he commends Rosho, sounding almost amused. And so the night shall wear on, Sasara thinks, these three companions united!
And wear on it did, leaving even Rosho giggly by the time Sasara was close to falling asleep. Rei had, as the prophecies foretold, thrown that damned coat over them both, causing Rosho to shout indignantly even though Sasara caught him blushing something fierce when Rei gave a dismissive grin and a “just lemme warm ya up, teach.”
And oh, how Sasara loves them both, unique in their own ways and he refuses to have one without the other. He knows they feel the same way; at least, he damn sure hopes so, or else he’s losing his people-reading skills. But he’s never missed how Rosho has two different but equally fond “I am so done with you” stares for both him and Rei, or how Rei would only ditch his nightly misadventures in the case that Rosho had had a bad day and Sasara invited the two of them out drinking. It’s devotion, he thinks absently, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
By the time the sun is actually risen, Sasara is groggy and hungover, and Rosho is curled into his side. He threads fingers into his hair, taking advantage of this precious time where the world is silent. Rei is awake but making an obvious and genuinely sweet effort not to wake up his teammates, and Sasara beams up at him getting an extremely rare soft grin in reply.
“Ya mind if I snap a pic of that million dollar smile?” he jokes, voice raspy and thick with sleep. “Gotta make it last longer.”
“I’ll give ya both another when teach wakes up. Cause I like ya,” Rei replies, his usual sarcasm set in his tone but not as fully as it typically is. And as if on cue, Rosho stirs at Sasara’s side with a stretch that makes Sasara think of a cat. Cute, he thinks absentmindedly.
“Another what?” Rosho asks, rubbing his eyes.
“Nothin’,” Rei says dismissively, “don’t worry ‘bout a thing.” The way he phrases it makes Sasara warm inside, like he really doesn’t have to when Rei is around.
Maybe he doesn’t. And Rosho shouldn’t have to either. They’re a team, no matter what, and Sasara won’t let either of them forget it.