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The plush couches that lined the side of the hotel ballroom were there for respite for overly drunk guests and weary idols. They were short term solutions until they could retire for the night in their booked hotel rooms. That being said, there was absolutely no reason for Ren to have chosen the same selection of seating as him.
“Almost all of the other seating is available, Jinguji, and yet you sat there. Is there a reason for that?”
The afterparty celebrating the release of their latest single was winding down. Having already made his rounds to the guests and VIPs, something that took the majority of his evening, Masato allowed himself a few minutes to rest. That was the original plan. But now that Ren had claimed the other half of the lounge, he would likely not get any rest at all.
“Just wanted to rest my feet a little and this one happened to be closest. Have a problem with that, Hijirikawa?”
The only thing Masato had a problem with was Ren accidentally reminding him how much his own feet ached. He tried to subtly shift his weight on the cushions to take some of the pressure off while remaining presentable. He would never, for instance, spread his knees wide and throw his arm over the back of the sofa. The tips of Ren’s fingers were able to reach the very ends of the hair at the back of his neck. They stayed still for now.
Trying to stay professional, Masato sighed. They were still in public, albeit an intoxicated public. As the evening went on and as more alcohol was served, the attendees loosened up considerably. The last producer that Masato had spoken to was more focused on trying to stay upright than speaking with the idol. That was when he made the decision to take this break. It was getting to that point in the evening where he could begin to fade into the background.
But not enough to slacken his tie. It wasn’t quite that late. There were still directors and composers mulling about. Should he be called on now, he wanted to ensure he was presentable. Beside him, Ren was already undoing his tie and running a hand through his hair. The blond leaned all the way back, bringing one of his ankles to cross over and rest on the opposite knee. A phone was brought out and Masato swallowed any scolding that came to the surface.
Instead, he busied himself with checking about the room. No one seemed to be paying them any mind. That made him give an inch of bend to his spine. One of his group members, Natsuki, was by the dessert buffet table. The offered desserts were colourfully designed finger foods and Natsuki seemed to be photographing all of them. In another part of the room, Syo and Cecil were in the middle of talking with some of the other guests of the party.
“Could they be any more obvious?” The offhand comment from Ren showed that, despite seemingly being preoccupied, he had been paying attention. To what, Masato had to follow the blond’s nod to find out. Over on the other side of the room were the last two members of their group. Otoya and Tokiya were still partaking in some handshaking. “They could learn to be more subtle.” Ren’s fingers came to life, lightly brushing up against the back of Masato’s neck.
Trying to hide the shudder that sent through him was futile, the skin on the back of his neck lit up with pin pricks. It sent him back to being ironrod straight. His stare across the room didn’t falter, though he was looking without seeing. Masato had to refocus to watch the two more closely. Otoya seemed to be vigorously smiling and laughing, but the words weren’t loud enough to reach where he sat. The redhead poked at Tokiya, whose idol smile never dropped. “What are you talking about? They’re speaking to our guests, which is what we should be doing as well.”
It was waved off. “We’ve already made our rounds and they got a late start.” Ren was referencing a clumsy move by Otoya. The guitarist had spilt his drink on himself near the start of the night, the champagne had soaked right into the whites of his suit. “And I’m talking about the flirting. Surely you’ve noticed?” A sideways glance was given and Masato didn’t even have to look to know that Ren was acting smug, as usual.
“You’re being presumptuous. I haven’t noticed any flirting.” His offer had also been refused to help Otoya clean himself up. It had been Tokiya who guided the redhead to the restroom and the pair hadn’t remerged for some time. Otoya’s dress shirt, though, had been dry when he rejoined the party. It had meant nothing, Masato was sure.
“If anyone wouldn’t notice, it’d be you. Not everyone is as formal, you know.” There was a second touch on Masato’s nape that sent his heart jumping. Leaning closer gave Ren the reach to let his fingers run through the longest part of Masato’s hair. “Trust me,” adopting a lower tone and a firmer touch, Ren teased, “they’re flirting.”
It was a fight to keep his voice steady. “Jinguji, you’re being a nuisance. Cease this immediately.” He could feel his heart in his chest, its beats reverberating throughout his entire body. His face was beginning to heat up. This was the last thing he needed at the moment. Masato caught the eye of a passing waiter with a full tray and motioned over.
What a perfect time for Ren to open his mouth, full of barely controlled giddiness. “Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.” Shameless to the core. Masato could only pray that the waiter didn’t hear the comment. The fingers on the back of his neck paused long enough for Masato to ask for a non-alcoholic beverage. When the tray was offered to Ren, the blond took a flute full of champagne, before the waiter moved on.
As he sipped, Masato confirmed with himself that it was exactly what he needed. The sparkling water was chilled with a good amount of carbonation. They hadn’t dimmed the lights in the ballroom yet and they were still serving fresh drinks. He inadvertently let loose a sigh. He braced himself for a few more hours of entertaining and tried not to think about how much his feet had swollen in his dress shoes.
He hadn’t meant to, but he turned his attention back over to the two men still across the room. Otoya and Tokiya had moved on from the first group of guests Masato had seen them with. The pair was by the side of the empty stage now. Their behaviour was comfortable, this wasn’t a surprise. He didn’t see anything strange or unusual in the way Otoya clung to Tokiya’s arm, pulling the taller man over to a pile of balloons.
“So,” Ren swirled his champagne around in his glass, “how are we going to get involved?” It wasn’t the casual tone that rubbed Masato the wrong way. It was the predetermined fact that they were getting involved to begin with.
He had to control the intensity of the stare that he shot at Ren, tearing away from where Otoya playing with some balloons. Now would be the perfect opportunity for an ill-timed flash to capture his death stare and he’d have to answer for it later. Masato tried to soften it up. “What do you mean, ‘we’?” There was still an edge in his voice, still tension in his body.
Ren tried to press like Masato knew he would, the pianist made a point of finishing the rest of the drink with his chin angled up. “We have more experience with it. Shouldn’t we try to help?” The casual turned worried as Ren dropped his voice lower. “You know how it can get.”
He did know how it could get. His eyes crossed the room again. The balloons were back on the floor, Tokiya was fixing where Otoya’s suit had gotten skewed. With Tokiya’s back to him, Masato could only try to decipher Otoya’s expression. The brightly blushing cheeks were a staple. Was there more to it? “Ichinose came to see me last week.”
Having yet to try the drink in his hands, Ren let it sit in his hand. “What did he want?” Ren’s other hand was slowly coming back to life. A couple of fingers moved absentmindedly, twirling and entangling themselves in Masato’s hair. It was allowed to continue.
The visit that Tokiya had paid him didn’t seem out of the ordinary at the time. The two of them often met to discuss various topics. Relationships had been the focus of that particular discussion. “He was seeking my advice.” But looking back, Masato recalled the informal questioning he had received. He had been asked about his relationship in a way that only Tokiya could manage, never getting too personal and always respecting his limits. One question that was asked lingered still and echoed in the forefront of his mind.
Turning his head away for a second time was much easier. Masato caught Ren’s eye and took in the blond’s shrug and following words. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense.” The impatience was forgiven with a smile, he knew that Ren intended well. It would have been a different story if this conversation had happened several years ago. But in the current day, Masato let the fingers playing at the back of his neck release the tension for him.
“It would seem that I’ve inadvertently gotten involved,” he murmured. Across the room, Otoya was pulling on Tokiya’s arm again, leading the taller man somewhere else in the ballroom. “I don’t think we have to be worried about them.” Though the statement earned Masato some raised eyebrows, it was enough to satisfy Ren for now.
By now, Masato felt that he had removed himself for a suitable amount of time from the evening celebrations. He was at risk of staying put the entire night if he didn’t get back up soon. He meant to use this lull in conversation to excuse himself, stand back up, and rejoin the party. But the day’s exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him and Ren was proving to be a devil in a well-pressed suit.
When Ren’s attention was diverted to his phone in his lap by vibrations, Masato watched Ren’s expression flicker from curious to overly content. Direction was given before Masato could comment. “Check your phone. The chat.”
He did as he was told, getting his phone out of his pocket. Masato had it set to silent, a feature that let him miss the barrage of messages that had been sent out in the band’s group chat. They were all images of various desserts and the Piyo-chan icon confirmed their sender. A quick scan of the messages had him summarizing. “Shinomiya wants to recreate the macaroons they’re serving.” Once read, the phone went back into his pocket.
“I’ll be the official taste tester if you offer to help.” Said with a wink and Masato had to resist the urge to roll his eyes with a smile on his lips. Then Ren put his joking aside to make a more serious remark. “You guys haven’t been getting together as much to cook lately, right?”
That was true. It was just another instance of Ren paying more attention than Masato gave him credit for. “Finding the time has been difficult.” Any plans always dissolved into maybes once the date got close before being discarded entirely. It made Masato frown as he realized they were past due for spending some time together. “We’re all busier now than we were back at the academy.”
That seemed to amuse Ren greatly, letting loose a laugh that made his eyes close naturally. The frown vanished as Masato stared. “Man, that’s one place I never want to go back to. Way too much work. We never got things like this either.” The flute of champagne in Ren’s hand was raised and the liquid inside sparkled.
Memories of their school days came back and now Masato was filled with nostalgia. “You never were the academy type.” Skipping class, refusing homework, picking fights on the regular; their days past as languidly as the clouds. That Ren wasn’t the same man who was sitting next to him. Neither of them were the same. “Are you ever going to drink that?”
It was as if Ren was waiting to be asked. “That depends, Mr. Boarding School,” with the glass practically on his lips now, a ghostly mist spread with each breath, “are you going to want to taste it later?” A kiss was placed on the very top of the glass, slowly unsticking to leave behind a perfect imprint of pouty lips that had teased him relentlessly the night before.
Masato wanted to retract his previous statement for the record. He had spoken too soon. This man was still every bit a tease as he used to be and he still hadn’t taken a single drink. “Must you say such things in public?” He was suddenly aware of the stagnant air within the ballroom. His fingers twitched and Masato found the urge to undo the topmost button on his shirt. It wouldn’t solve anything but, instead, invite more provocation.
The champagne was once again forgotten. “Do you remember when we found the only practice room in the whole academy without a locking door?” The mirth in Ren’s eyes was contagious, the words conjured up memories that brought back a whirlwind of emotions. “Or when Aimi honed in on us in that closet cause of our breathing?” Ren’s voice nearly cracked at the end, pitching upwards.
It made Masato chuckle. The embarrassments of their youth brought a different kind of heat. It was the kind that came from hushed whispers and sneaking around. They had stumbled through the beginning of their relationship with bruised lips and checked egos. “We had to try to explain our way out of that one.” To this day, he didn’t think that Ai bought whatever they had sprouted in that moment. The Quartet Night member never did bother them much again after that, though.
“We fooled around a lot back then, didn’t we?” Now it wasn’t only Masato who caught the nostalgia as Ren turned wistful for days gone by. “We got into silly fights and thought it was the end of the world. Probably nearly broke the group up a few times too.” There was no denying that their troubles had sometimes become an internal group affair and their troubles, on some days, were many.
That, also, was from their inexperience. “We were young. We didn’t know any better.” The two of them often duked it out themselves, each claiming equal victories. There wasn’t anyone in the group who could offer guidance. It may have been from the expectant expression on Ren’s face that made Masato finally put the pieces together or it could have been the stroking of his neck that coaxed him into understanding but either way, the lightbulb came on.
How easily it was to change his mind when it was coming from the right person. How much he had changed without noticing over these past years. His future was sitting right in front of him, loosened suit and tie drifting out of focus as Masato let his gaze slip. The gears were still moving in his mind, about what he had to offer to the two who were now in his position all those years ago.
A blurry body moved. “Hijirikawa, what’s wrong?” The leg that Ren had crossed over was moved to put his foot flat on the floor. Ren turned in Masato’s direction, eyes flickering all over his face. “You went quiet all of a sudden. Tired?” Distantly, Masato was reminded of his feet.
He blinked Ren’s concerned face back into focus. He wasn’t too sure about his own expression in that moment, unable to see his own face. Did he truly look so strange, so out of place that it had to be commented on? Masato found himself leaning towards Ren’s side and corrected that, keeping to his own. “Did you want to be the one to speak to Ittoki or Ichinose?” He shot Ren a side glance to observe the reaction.
It was that of surprise, then relief. Ren was able to keep up with him. “I’ll take Ikki. Him and I need to have a discussion on makeup.” Now it was Masato who was reacting in confusion causing Ren to elaborate. “You haven’t noticed?”
The turn in conversation caught him unaware. “Noticed what?” Was there something to notice? Masato hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. He stole a glance across the room, at where Otoya and Tokiya had gathered in a different spot. Otoya looked the same from this distance, too far away for him to catch anything wrong.
“His lips.” Out of all the things Masato expected Ren to say, that made the bottom of the list. He whipped back in time to see Ren shrug. “What? I thought it was obvious. I mean, he went into the bathroom with his own colour and came out with another.” It was stated like Masato should have seen it too.
“You were staring at his lips?” It must have been sometime during the course of the evening. Masato himself hadn’t spent too much time in Otoya’s orbit, as the redhead had been sticking close to Tokiya the entire night and Masato wanted to spread out to be able to speak to more of their guests.
(That being said, he had kept an eye on Ren for the majority of the evening but no one had to know about that.)
“You almost sound jealous.” That earned Ren a huff of annoyance. That was hardly the case. The arm along the spine of the sofa was used as an anchor to let Ren come in closer. He got nestled right in close, close enough for Masato to feel a tickle from the ends of Ren’s hair. “You know I only have eyes for you.” Ren was always the one between them to vocalize his devotion, leaving Masato burning, beside himself in pieces.
The affections didn’t stop there. The whispered nuances continued as Ren dropped his voice, turning silk into velvet. “Not just my eyes either. My body and every sound I make are all yours.” Despite each word being breathed inches away from him, Masato didn’t visibly react. It was out of character and had Ren pulling back, worried. “Something is wrong. You’re not chewing my head off for saying that.” The phone on Ren’s lap tipped over the side of his thigh and buried itself headfirst in the cushions.
When Ren withdrew the hand on the back of the sofa to try to check Masato’s temperature, he was calmly intercepted. “Nothing’s wrong, I assure you.” That arm was guided back to its original position. “I was only thinking about what knowledge to pass on.” Among other things so it wasn’t a complete fabrication.
The phone pressed between them vibrated in a series once again, not helping the sparks that were already shooting up Masato’s spine. It was on Ren’s prompting that Masato be the one to check the messages again, this time on his own phone. The reverberations practically made Ren purr; Masato didn’t mention it. He didn’t mention that the vibrations made his breath catch. It was the group chat that had updated once again and when Masato swiped with his free hand to open the new messages, he was startled to see pictures of himself.
They had to be taken fairly recently, within the past several minutes at best. Taken from across the room, some were slightly blurry around the edges or had other people in them. But the focus was undeniable, as the pair of them were centred in each picture. A caption came in a moment later from an account with an Onpu-kun icon: what are you guys talking about? Masa looks so happy!
Happy, was it? Masato scrolled up to open the first picture sent. Ren hadn’t shuffled over yet when it had been taken, both kept a healthy distance between them. His own face seemed stiff in that moment in time, facing forward. A second picture captured the slight tilt of his head, a third showed him with a smile. He couldn’t tell the exact timing relative to their conversation but the glass he held was empty.
They must have been a captivating subject, there were more photos than Masato originally thought. By now, Ren crowded to view the pictures as well. “You like that one, huh?” Masato hadn’t moved past a certain image and was staring at it intensely. “Ikki’s right, you do look happy in it. It’s a great picture.” Ren would know, he had photographed Masato countless times before.
In it, Ren’s posture had changed and the blond looked like he was in the middle of speaking, his mouth having been caught open. But Masato couldn’t look away from his own likeliness. He zoomed in, close enough to highlight the streaks of pink high on his cheeks and how his eyes crinkled as he was smiling. He looked at peace. He looked like he was in love.
By the time Masato had finished examining the photos, Otoya had snuck another text message in there: you two aren’t fooling anyone. It was punctuated with a winking emoji that had Ren snorting. A quick glance up and around the room told Masato that Otoya and Tokiya were still together, with Otoya’s nose buried in his phone with Tokiya trying to casually look over his shoulder.
“They’re feeling pretty confident, aren’t they? Here, type this,” Ren sat further upright as he waited for Masato to pull up the keyboard, “say that someone’s feeling pretty bold despite wearing the wrong lip tint for most of the evening. See how he responds to that.” Masato tried to hold back the laugh that threatened to leave him to little avail.
Ever dutiful, however, Masato typed what Ren requested word for word. Once sent, both of their heads raised in sync to watch it be received in real time. The message went from sent to read and they could see Otoya’s eyes widen from across the room. The redhead slapped a hand over his mouth while Tokiya froze up, having caught the message.
A whistle of victory was let out. “They’re trying to compete with the big boys. Rookie mistake.” There was a warmth on Masato’s far shoulder from Ren’s hand claiming it. “Actually, let me talk with Icchi. I want to tease him over this.” Ren was terrible, absolutely terrible, but he was Masato’s brand of terrible.
Tokiya would have to fend for himself. “I believe that can be arranged.” Masato pocketed his phone once more. He didn’t want to mention it earlier but now it seemed like the right time to say it. “There was one question that stuck with me from what Ichinose and I discussed last week.” He raised his empty champagne flute to propose a toast.
Ren mirrored, raising his own. “Oh? What would that be?” They clinked glasses and then Ren tipped his head back.
Having the already empty glass, Masato spoke carefully. “He asked me when it was worth it.” All of the hardships flashed through his mind before he had given a definite answer. It hadn’t been an easy question but it had come to him easier than he would have thought. It had rendered Tokiya silent. It came as easily now as it did then. “My answer was when you could see yourself being with that person for life.” He had meant to time it to when Ren would be finished drinking but he got there early.
Sputtering. The champagne that was in Ren’s mouth was now dripping from it. The blond tried not to choke on it further, coughing to clear his lungs. The arm around Masato retracted so Ren could wheeze into his elbow, eyes wide and watery and never leaving Masato’s own. If he listened closely, Ren might have been trying to say his name.
One of Masato’s hands came to rest in the middle of Ren’s back, slowly rubbing. Red-faced and rapidly blinking, Ren’s chest was still heaving. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.” Thankfully, any curiosity in the two from partygoers could be waved off, heads were slow to turn from the drunk crowd. The only welcome attention was from a waiter so that Masato could dispose of their empty glasses.
“Are you serious?” Ren still needed to clear his throat a few times. The back of his hand was used to wipe away at his mouth. He looked like he was about to cry, the coughing having made his eyes wet. It was the same expression that Ren made right before Masato brought him to climax. “What should I say?” Just like always, Masato’s instinct to take care of his partner came to the surface.
“Nothing yet. I’m the formal one, remember? Stand up.” He stood first and Ren joined him on shaky legs. He manoeuvred Ren’s back to the centre of the room. Masato made quick work of straightening Ren’s shirt and tie, tightening it back up. He brushed imaginary dust off the collar before turning his attention to Ren’s hair. He smoothed it down and let his fingers linger. “Think of it as a promise.” It had to be described as a promise, saying vow would have made Masato’s courage vanish. He kept his hands busy until Ren’s breathing evened out.
“And here I thought I was the spontaneous one.” Each one of Masato’s careful motions were observed under Ren’s watchful eye. “You really keep me guessing.” Just like that, Ren ran a hand through his hair and undid the styling that was just completed.
It earned the blond a light swat. “I only wanted to make myself clear.” He focused on getting Ren’s bangs to frame his face properly again. It wasn’t just his imagination when Ren leaned into his touch. They were walking a tight rope blindfolded that made actions like that an unknown risk. Masato had already determined it within himself to take responsibility if anything were to come to pass because of him. He had a letter of retirement written for the day that a scandal might break that would absolve Ren completely. He’d bow out first and quickly, before Ren could change his mind.
But until that day came, it was the moments like this that kept him going.
The lights in the ballroom dimmed by an invisible hand, the party was coming to an end. It was the round up force that would eventually guide all of the guests stumbling towards the exists. “What are you doing after this?” Seemingly having recovered, Ren wheezed nonchalantly with a hint of mischief in his eyes.
The hours of further entertainment persisted in Masato’s mind but with a shifted focus. “I’m going back to my room.” Thinking ahead in the quiet moment they had, he patted a pocket to try to locate the additional key he had made up for his hotel room. “I’ll give you my extra key.” He thought he had grabbed it when he left in the morning but was coming up empty.
“No need.” The second room key was produced by Ren. “I never gave it back after last night.” The key remained in Ren’s possession, pocketed along with the phone that was nearly left behind.
It had Masato putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Focus, Jinguji. We still have to send off our guests.” The other idols were gravitating towards the exists for the final thank yous and well wishes of the night. And yet Ren was still, having yet to turn and walk ahead. He was about to ask what the hold up was when Masato felt Ren attach himself to his side.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that I can multitask.” They began to walk in step and Masato couldn’t find it in him to reclaim his arm. Ren held his head high, taking the lead to steer them towards the duo they had flustered. “Now come on, let’s show ‘em how it’s done.” Ren’s expression had already morphed into something cat-like. Masato resigned himself to be pulled along.
“Don’t tease them too much,” was his only ask.