Work Text:
Gaku shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and ambled down the painted cinderblock hallway. It was fine. There was still some time before TRIGGER was due to film their segment of the latest talk show, and he still kinda had service down here, so Anesagi could just text him if he started cutting it too close. Whatever.
More importantly, if he had to listen to one more sly comment from Tenn about Idolish7’s presence on the same talk show and how nice it was to see them all again, he was probably going to strangle the brat. Which might cause some issues, so it was time for a good long walk. Alone.
At least, he’d thought he would be alone in the studio basement, but he could clearly hear someone else moving in a room just ahead. Curious about who else could be down here, he glanced into the open door and stopped in his tracks.
Tsumugi had set up in an unused dressing room, absorbed in a sheaf of papers spread out on the vanity table. She was deep in thought, and (as always) very, very cute. He should go in and check on her, try to make sure she wasn’t working too hard. He should make a joke about Ryuu’s skin-tight outfit, ask if she’d eaten, offer to bring some of the good snacks from catering. He should, but… he was supposed to stay away from her, to tamp down on all the creepy shit that people were saying. Reluctantly, he moved on, but apparently he wasn’t quiet enough.
“Yaotome-san!” Startled, Tsumugi jumped up, knocking over her chair, and teetered on her feet. Without thinking, he moved to stop her from falling, steadying her with a hand on her elbow.
“Careful! Don’t…” This close, he could read some of the papers scattered on the table. A few choice phrases jumped out at him: filthy little slut… taking advantage of Gaku-kun… gold-digging bitch… “What the hell is that?”
“Oh! No, no, it’s nothing, just some email-” She reached out to scoop up the papers, but not before he’d grabbed a few.
You shameless whore, if you don’t leave Gaku alone right now, I’m going to… It went on, into far too much detail. Fuck. How could somebody write that? He was going to throw up. “What- this is not nothing- are they talking about you?”
“I told you, it’s…” Her voice trembled, and- fuck, was she crying? “...yes.”
The wave of nausea that swept over him was quickly replaced by a cold fury. How dare they talk about her like that. Who the fuck were these people, to put her name in their mouths? He flipped through a few of the pages, trying not to read the content. Of course none of them were signed. Some were several weeks old. “How long has this been going on?”
“A-a few months. Ever since…”
“Ever since the rumors about us started going around.” It felt like someone had reached inside him and ripped out all his guts. “I had no idea.”
“Our agency agreed to keep it a secret. We didn’t want to start a war between TRIGGER fans and Idolish7 fans. That wouldn’t be good for anyone.”
“Are you sure keeping it secret is good for you?”
“We - Ogami-san said it might be a good idea to file a police report, which is why…” She gestured to the printouts in his hands. “They’re probably not going to do anything, but at least it’ll be on record if- if it gets worse.” A few tears threatened to break through, and she hastily wiped them away with her sleeve. He silently offered her his handkerchief, and she took it, dabbing at her damp cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought I was used to this, but… some of them have started saying things about my mother, about what kind of person she must have been to raise me like that, and it’s just… it’s just a lot.”
“Tsu- Takanashi-san…” Every instinct he had was screaming at him to go to her, wipe her tears away, pull her close, and protect her. But… wasn’t it his fault this was happening in the first place? If he’d only been more tactful, more discreet, more considerate, nobody would have thought to send her such fucked-up things. The last thing he wanted was to make this worse for her. “They’re my fans,” he finally settled on - and wasn’t that another shitty feeling, to think he would appeal to people like that. “There’s got to be something I can do. Tell them to knock it off, or whatever.”
Her (gorgeous, captivating, perfect) eyes flew open in alarm. “No, Yaotome-san, you can’t! It’ll just drag you into the middle of everything! Please, please don’t risk yourself like that, and let us take care of it behind the scenes! Besides, the more people are paying attention to this, the harder it will be to handle.”
He knew she was right, but he hated the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness. “Are you sure?” he asked, already knowing her answer.
She gave a determined little nod in spite of the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Yes! Please let us managers take care of you!”
But… I want to take care of you. He really couldn’t say that without getting them both in even deeper trouble. And it didn’t matter anyway; she would never agree, and he wouldn’t be able to say no to her. He took a deep breath. “Okay. But if there’s ever anything I can do, please let me know.”
“I will. I promise.” A gentle silence fell around them. Mercifully, before he could break it by saying something stupid and reckless, his phone buzzed, startling them both. “Oh! You need to get ready for the taping!”
“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” He turned towards the door, but he couldn’t just leave her like that. “Look. You’re not anything like what they’re saying. And I’m sure your mom wasn’t either. Please don’t listen to any of that.”
The small smile she gave him broke his heart and mended it in the same moment. Fuck, he wanted to kiss her so badly. “Thank you, Yaotome-san. You’re a good person.”
Feeling like anything but, he ducked his head. “Take care, Takanashi-san.” And with that, he went back upstairs.