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It was the night of Lippman’s first movie premiere.
Tucked in his best black suit, grey waistcoat and shiny slip-ons, Chuuya was jittery as he waited for the car to pick him up.
The room wasn't silent in the slightest. The music blasting from his high-tech stereo was so loud, the floor under his feet pulsed with the boom of the bass.". It was enough to cover his own heartbeat, fast and shallow in anticipation.
Chuuya almost ran a gloved hand in his hair with contempt but in all honesty, it wasn’t worth ruining his painstaking work to style them, so he gave up on his intent and opted for the back of his neck instead, hand running up and down in a useless attempt to soothe himself.
His phone pinged and Chuuya’s hand dashed to his pocket way too quickly to grab it. A voice message.
He tried listening to it once but with the noise it was almost impossible to hear his own thoughts. Bringing down the volume of the stereo from 100 to 70, he pressed the screen again.
‘Chuuya I swear on everything I hold precious if you don’t fucking turn that down I’m going to shove a knife up your sorry a-’
Now it was the doorbell’s time to ring.
With a wide grin plastered on his face, Chuuya took more time than necessary to reach and open the door to his guest. As the person outside kept ringing, he slowly took off his gloves to check his nails, put them on again, brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder and gave another look to his overall appearance in the mirror near the entrance door. Finally, his hand landed on the doorknob to open the door.
“Albatross! What good fortune brought you here? Is something the matter?”
“You cheeky brat, you would drive a saint crazy!”
“Funny, Doc said the same thing about you the other day! You hosted a party last week that kept the entire block up until ass o’clock, remember?”
“Not my fault if y’all are a bunch of pensioners.”
“I’m so gonna kill you, Birdman.”
“I’d like to see you try, dear neighbour.”
Then, the blond man laughed out loud, a boisterous laugh that, no matter what mood Chuuya was in, never failed to bring an amused smile to his face too: they were actually on good terms and cared about each other very much after working together for so many years. That didn’t stop them from actively trying to kill each other every now and then.
“You two are truly insufferable.”
A familiar voice interrupted their violent bickering when knives had already been drawn and on each other’s throats.
Pianoman had walked up to them silently and simply stood there, towering over both men, perfectly dressed in his black and white tuxedo.
“The elders get tired quickly of the younglings’ never-ending energy, you know?”
Chuuya drew back the pocketknife and placed it with care in the pocket inside his jacket. Albatross followed, hiding the blade in the holster tied to his calf.
“Yo, old man. Did we wake you up from your beauty nap?”
There was no sign of anger on Pianoman’s face, despite his nod.
“You did, in fact. I was trying to sleep before going to the premiere since you guys are gonna keep me up for longer than I’d like,” the man leaned against the wall with his shoulder, his slender fingers casually playing with his beloved weapon: the piano wire. “Figured that I should just get ready and come here to wait for the car.”
Albatross let out an annoyed puff, his hands fixing the collar of his embroidered shirt first and rolling up the sleeves second. The gold watch on his wrist, now exposed, shone and reflected the light coming from the ceiling of the lavish hallway.
“I could have handled the cars myself —it’s my job after all— but nooo, Lippmann had to send those given to him by the movie producer! I could have used that beautiful Maserati, it was the perfect occasion!”
“There, there,” Pianoman coaxed him with friendly pats on the back. “He said the movie producer insisted on this, it wasn’t to hurt your pride.”
“He probably slept with the producer,” Chuuya groaned, sneering at the thought.
“We shall never know,” Pianoman nodded gravely. “Aren’t you a bit too young to say those things?”
“I’m twenty-fucking-two, idiot.”
“Oh, right! I heard you found yourself a fine boyfriend too, yes? Allow me to point out that you have terrible taste in men. You could have chosen literally anyone from the Port Mafia and yet you still chose that one!”
“Boyfriend?! And you didn’t tell Albatross, your best friend? That hurts, Chuuya. Who do you think you two are, Romeo and Juliet?”
“I hope you’re using protection at least,” Pianoman added, landing the last blow to Chuuya’s already damaged pride.
“Shut your damn traps, both of you. If you call Dazai my boyfriend again I’m gonna vomit on your stupidly expensive shoes.”
He conveniently avoided commenting on the safe sex part, lest he goes insane and throws a fit during the premiere.
“We never mentioned Dazai-kun, you did,” Both said nonchalantly, a mocking grin on their faces. Chuuya’s cheeks flared up, his fists tightly clenched. Goddamnit, the mackerel was able to cause him troubles even without being around.
Given the possibility, they probably would have kept the bickering going on for hours. Thankfully, Pianoman’s phone rang: the driver was waiting outside.
Chuuya quickly gathered his belongings. Wallet, keys, invitation, phone.
On second thought, maybe the phone was a bad choice, no way he was giving Dazai the chance to bother him on such an important night. With gravity, he tossed the phone on the sofa and closed the door behind him.
They reached the hall of the building and two figures were already waiting for them, much to their surprise.
“Doc and Iceman?! I thought you hated this kind of event,” Chuuya said, the surprised expression on his face made him look even younger than he already was.
“I do. But I love the sound of Lippmann shutting up more. He wouldn’t have let me live if I didn’t come to the premiere,” Iceman grumbled, uncomfortable in his way too elegant clothes, restrictive and tight around him.
“When he asked I said yes on the spot so he would shut up. I was treating a patient and he barged inside the infirmary. I think the poor man had a stroke when he saw that pretty face near his bed,” Doc chuckled at the memory. “He probably thought he had already ascended, with such an angelic-looking figure in front of him.”
They all looked pretty good, Chuuya mused as he studied everyone’s outfits. Having some free time was a rare occurrence in the mafia, let alone participating in such a public event like this one.
Lippmann was quite famous in Japan now —at this point, he was working more as an influencer on Instagram than a mafioso. The times Chuuya had seen his face in perfume advertisements outnumbered those in which he had seen him with a weapon in his hands; despite that, he knew Lippmann could snap a man’s neck with no hesitation. The duality of a man.
With a lowered guard and voices too high, the group exited the skyscraper and walked in the bright night of Yokohama, hopping into the luxurious black limousine sent by the movie production. They were used to expensive cars with Albatross in charge of the vehicles but whoever picked this one outdid themself: the interior was spacious and comfortable, with soft, red sittings and champagne paired with glasses ready to use, idly resting on the little crystal table placed at the center of the cabin.
Chuuya spotted a mini-fridge in one corner, probably filled with a stock of the same brand of champagne. French and expensive, just how he liked it.
The ride wasn’t quiet either, if anything they all got increasingly noisier as the anticipation grew and alcohol started warming their veins. Doc had already stained his suit —God knows with what— and Albatross was making fun of him with tears in his eyes while Pianoman cracked one of his terrible jokes every two minutes. Chuuya, for once, was silent and content to just take in every emotion the night was giving him so far.
“What is it? Bored already?”
Iceman’s voice was sharp and low, emotionless to strangers but not to the Flags, who know better than to take him for a cold person.
“Nah, just enjoying the night. I’m happy we’re all here together,” Chuuya replied earnestly, sipping again on his flûte, the bubbles leaving a pleasant, stinging sensation on his tongue.
Iceman simply hummed in agreement. He had never been a man of many words, however it seemed he was destined to talk today; his ringtone went off and Lippmann’s name and photo appeared on the screen.
After a deep sigh, he tapped on the green button.
“I can’t believe you brought your phone to my first premiere, you’re that eager to snap pics of me on the red carpet? ”
Lippmann’s toothpaste-advertisement smile was even shinier in the darkness of the backseat where he was sitting, specifically tailored for the journalists and photographers waiting for him outside the theatre. He was wearing his best pastel suit as well, the one that made his eyes stand out even more than usual.
“I brought it so I can play games to keep myself awake, that shit sounds boring,” was Iceman’s dry reply, which got promptly brushed away by Chuuya entering the screen right beside his face.
“I can smell your shitty cologne from here, pretty face. Damn, you look like a freakin’ porcelain doll!”
The man laughed wholeheartedly at that, breaking his character for one long second. It was a relief to see he hadn’t changed in the slightest despite their scarce meetings. The movie shooting had been long and exhausting, the concealer and foundation did wonders for his purple eyebags but they had seen him without makeup and showy garments only a few hours before and weren't fooled.
“Lose the first sentence and maybe you’ll find yourself a nice person to date.” Chuuya clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I called to remind you guys to behave like normal people there. I bargained with Mori for tonight so don’t spoil it, ” his tone was quiet and gentle as ever but again, they knew him. In his eyes there was a menacing glint, and the message was clear: don’t fuck it up now or I’ll fuck you up later.
“Is that Lippmann?! Yo, pretty boy! You look awfully hot, I hate that!”
Albatross jumped in as well, pushing Iceman and Chuuya out of the screen.
“Say, do you have pillows in the theatre? Because the trailer was so terrible I had to take a nap right after, I don’t think I can stand the entire movie!”
Doc laughed at that —his knowing face said otherwise. Out of all of them, Albatross was probably the most excited; plus, it’s not like they could forget how he almost crashed a helicopter into Mori’s tower because he had to watch the trailer when it first dropped. It took a lot of bribing to convince them not to tell Lippmann.
“We can always leave if it gets too boring,” Pianoman commented, not moving from his spot. “Which is probably going to happen.”
Now, from the outside Lippmann might have looked like a perfect Barbie doll with no flaws and perfectly-placed beauty marks, he also had been blessed with a silver tongue and a charm that could shut up the best public speaker; and yet, the man did have at least two flaws: zero understanding of sarcasm, and touchiness.
As expected, he started pouting at his friends, a light crease forming on his forehead.
“Easy there, you’re gonna get wrinkles at thirty,” Chuuya taunted him with a wide grin.
“You guys are insufferable, ” the other one mumbled with his head slightly turned on his right side, his hair doing poorly to hide his hurt face.
Slender fingers wrapped around the phone and stole it from Iceman’s hold.
“Exceed our expectations, pretty boy . It better be damn good, or you’re taking on our paperwork for the next century.”
The surprise faded quickly from Lippman’s face, replaced by a cocky grin.
“Deal. I’ll have you guys crying in your seats. ”
A chorus of roaring laughter filled the car, booming around the metal shell and inside their chests. Chuuya couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so openly and carefree.
“I’m almost there, I have to go. Please behave, or I’ll make you regret being born. Buh-bye, enjoy the movie! ”
The slightly threatening note on which the call ended had everyone reconsidering all kinds of shenanigans they were plotting until a minute ago. Then, as expected, both Chuuya and Albatross started smiling in the most mischievous way. Pianoman and Iceman sigh in defeat. Doc couldn’t help but grin.
Admittedly, the poster for the movie was visually great.
The characters were in black and white while the background was a colorful picture of a sunset over San Francisco’s Golden Gate bridge. On top of the two figures, standing back to back with a sad look on their side profiles, there was the name of the movie: ‘The Method of Freedom’.
Set in the 1930s, the main characters were a young American woman and her fiancé, a Japanese man living in the United States. The plot was the usual, tear-jerking story: the girl, Sophie, was sick with a terminal illness and her medications were too expensive for her poor family to afford. Her fiancé, Haru, turned to crime to pay for Sophie’s medications. To no one’s surprise he ended up getting arrested and Sophie died a few months later with him still incarcerated.
Fucking depressing, in Chuuya’s honest opinion.
After annoying Lippmann with delighted screams and hardcore cheering (while he was still on the red carpet, waltzing from a journalist to another with the grace of a butterfly), Chuuya and Albatross were ready to annoy him further during the movie and, at least for a little while, they actually managed to follow their plans.
With Albatross the Popcorn Provider’s aid, Chuuya charged a handful of popcorns with gravity and sent them flying towards Lippmann’s nape, trying to make them land between his neck and the collar of his perfectly ironed shirt.
Needless to say, in a dimly lit room and from the rear seats it was hard to aim right and Chuuya only managed to hit his head at top speed a few times. The man endured it with stoic indifference.
But games could only last so long; when one hardened corn ended up boring a tiny hole in the screen, Lippmann finally turned around towards his friends with the widest, scariest smile they had ever seen him wear, in the dark it glowed like the blade of a knife. Albatross had gulped loudly and quickly revoked Chuuya’s popcorn rights by passing them to Doc— he wasn’t going to risk it further because he wasn’t some kind of reckless vessel-of-god like the younger one.
Chuuya, twenty-two years old, was forced to quiet down.
In hindsight, however, Chuuya should have just kept bothering someone because the plot had him unwillingly hooked.
Lippmann really was an outstanding actor for being a rookie; his expressions, the tone of his voice, the way his hands held Sophie’s actress with tenderness and worry… It was all far more overwhelming than he had expected it to be. The arrest scene had his feelings scattering all over the place - it was so unfair!
He would have done the same, he had done the same.
If he had been in Haru’s place, he would have killed the policeman holding him as he cried and screamed his fianceé’s name, mercilessly cut their throat with no remorse.
When Sophie had drawn her last breath in their bedroom, Haru — far away and completely unaware of her passing still — had fallen on his knees in front of a barred window, the sun had already set, painting the sky with soft pastel colours.
When the credits started rolling, Chuuya quickly jerked to the side to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks and chin, only to be met by Albatross’ red-rimmed, teary eyes. Before Chuuya could stop him, he was already squeezing him in a tight, suffocating hug and Chuuya’s arms were flailing around, desperately trying to escape the grip without using his ability because ‘no abilities in the Flags’ and blah blah blah. He had somehow managed to shove a foot between them and pushed Albatross away.
“You left snot on my jacket, you fucker!”
Doc’s usual sick complexion was slightly pinker in his cheeks and around his eyes, clear signs he had shed tears as well. Feeling watched, he turned towards Chuuya and gave him a thumbs up.
Taking advantage of their antics, Iceman quickly swept away his own tears, shielded by Pianoman, who was trying to fix the smudged eyeliner at the corner of his eyes.
“That was really something, I hate to admit it but Lippmann won the bet,” he said as he checked his face for the last time with a pocket mirror. “Should we go out and celebrate? My treat.”
“This movie is gonna win an Oscar I’m telling ya, Chuuya cried so much!”
“Shut up, idiot bird. At least I don’t hose others with my tears.”
“Please, let’s go drink something before these two start it again,” Iceman was practically begging at this point.
The older man nodded and shoved them out of the theatre, followed by the other two.
Lippmann, however, was nowhere to be seen.
It had been a pleasant surprise to find their favourite bar empty, Pianoman had apparently booked it in advance to avoid the usual crowd of drunkards and random criminals picking a fight at any given chance.
The mood wasn’t as high as the man had hoped. They had waited two hours in the cold for Lippmann to come out with no success, the excitement wearing off as a bitter aftertaste started settling on their tongues. There was a terrible thought hovering over them but no one had the guts to voice it: no way this was the beginning of a crossroad, but it sure felt like it.
Chuuya had stolen Albatross’ phone at some point to check what the ‘fucker was up to’, only to find his Instagram stories filled with reposted stories from fans and journalists with sickeningly sweet captions, other pics were posted by him and he was currently toasting to the movie’s airing with his actor colleagues.
Logically, he knew his anger was unreasonable and ill-formed because 1. The cast celebrating the success was the most logical thing to do; 2. They were not kids, they were mafiosi, criminals, and they’re not trying to play house in their free time.
Still... still it hurt deep down.
In the smoke-filled room, time passed and as the dreaded thought finally settled in, the table couldn’t hold all the empty glasses and bottles they had collected anymore.
Pianoman was more wasted than usual.
“Why isn’t he answering my calls?!”
“Stop drunk-dialing him, you’re pathetic,” Chuuya hiccuped, face planted into the wooden surface of the table.
“You’re really not the one to make that argument, your drunk calls are legendary in the Port Mafia,” the man replied, slurring his words. “Lippmann is- is my best friend and I’m worried, alright?”
“He’s fine, let him have fun.”
“Nah Doc, what kinda shit are you saying?! He should be here with us and celebrating but he’s got new friends.”
A sad smile cut through Doc’s face, his hand landed on Albatross’ back in a fruitless attempt to comfort him. It’s always hard to cheer up the happy ones when they’re usually the ones to console.
“Whaddaya think, Iceman? What should we do, you’re wise, give us advice,” Albatross grabbed the arm of his friend with emphasis, shaking it a bit as Iceman tried to drink his sake in peace.
“Just shut up and wait for him, and let me drink in peace.”
If they had been slightly less drunk, they would have noticed how Iceman had sounded surprisingly hopeful when he really usually wasn’t. If they had been slightly less drunk, they would have seen the figure looking at them from outside the window.
When Lippmann walked into the bar, two hours after their first drink, Chuuya broke down into tears, and so did Albatross. They had run towards him, stumbling upon chairs and barely standing on their feet. Lippman caught them both before they could fall face down on the floor, an interrogative expression plastered on his face.
“Jeez, did you drink Japan’s entire alcohol stash? I hope you two left some Martini for me,” he chuckled lightly at their muffled whining. The shirt was crumpling under the two men’s fingers but he didn’t seem to care at all.
“Pianoman drank it all.”
His eyes widened at Albatross’ words but his eyebrows got closer as he frowned slightly.
“And why would he drink my favourite drink instead of waiting for me, pray tell?”
“Said he reminded him of you, we thought you weren’t coming back,” it was Chuuya’s turn to reply.
There was no anger in his voice but given the situation, Lippmann knew Chuuya would have sent him flying if he hadn’t been so out of it.
The two sacks of muscles that were his friends were getting heavier by the second as tiredness started washing over all three of them, Lippmann decided to drag them both back to the table before they could fall asleep on their feet or worse, on him. With much effort, he finally reached the other three, idly sitting on their chairs. Pianoman was a literal mess, there was smudged makeup in the corners of his eyes and his dark hair was disheveled, some of it sticking to his cheeks. He was snoring, collapsed on Iceman’s shoulder, but he didn’t look peaceful in the slightest.
Doc too seemed to be asleep, head slightly tilted to the side and arms crossed against his chest, there was a healthy blush on his face which sure was a sight to behold.
“You still with me?”
Iceman grunted and fought against the impulse of moving aside to free himself of Pianoman’s weight for the umpteenth time.
“Unfortunately. Where have you been?”
After helping Albatross sit down, he took his time to secure Chuuya to his chair. The kid really couldn’t hold his alcohol for the life of him.
“I tried to run from those pretentious pricks for three hours, when I finally managed to escape I called all of you and no one picked up, where did you put your damn phones? I didn’t buy five smartphones on Christmas for nothing.”
The other man shrugged. “Chuuya and Doc didn’t bring it, I turned it off before the movie started, Albatross’ died, Pianoman called you the entire evening without succeeding. You better have an explanation for that ‘cause he was goin’ crazy ‘bout it.”
“Did he call the number I use for when I’m working outside the PM?”
Iceman’s blank stare was enough of an answer. He checked said phone and no, there were no calls from Pianoman. After a quick check of Pianoman’s call log, he confirmed his suspects.
“So you guys thought I left you for some random people I work with,” Lippmann stated matter-of-factly and definitely incredulously. Dumbasses.
Pianoman and Chuuya were Port Mafia’s highest-ranking underbosses and yet here they were, getting pointlessly frustrated at their friend’s alleged betrayal.
A few minutes passed before Lippmann spoke again, he had mulled over and over about what to say to fix the misunderstanding several times before giving up altogether, it’s not like he had an audience anyway.
“Oh, Lippmann, I knew you were coming back,” Doc’s voice was feeble, low from the quick nap. He clearly hadn’t been drinking as much as the others, already fixing some kind of concoction to give the others in order to make them come back to their senses.
“Of course I was, but apparently I can’t leave for more than five hours without you guys going bananas,” he chuckled while approaching Pianoman’s sleepy figure. Despite the repeated nudges, he was still dead asleep. Iceman jumped on his feet all of a sudden, his patience had run out.
“Wake up Sleeping Beauty, your Prince is here.”
Pianoman fell onto the floor with a loud thud and a string of half-assed curses poured from his lips as he struggled to stand upright. Lippmann’s arm hooked his and stabilised him as best as he could. Despite the drunkness, his eyes quickly focused on his friend’s face.
“You fuckin’ moron, where have you been,” he snarled, with piss-poor conviction.
“You are the only moron here, you called the wrong number all night and got shitfaced about it,” Lippmann replied, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “And you also drank all my Martini, I’ve killed for less.”
With a weak tug, Pianoman got free of his hold, only to fall in his arms pushed by a wobbling Albatross. Near him, Chuuya was grinning like crazy. It was amusing seeing them still plotting against Lippmann despite being barely able to stand, let alone think.
“You stay there and hug him, pining dumbass,” Albatross said, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
“The audacity…”
“I heard you mumbling, short-stack. Got anything to say, huh?!”
“Albatross, please. Just sit down, Lippmann is finally here and we should enjoy the night. Here, use the beam of the IV drip to help you,” Doc patted the chair near him as an invitation he promptly accepted without arguing and without needing any external help. Chuuya and Lippmann barely held the laughter in for the sake of Doc’s wellbeing but Albatross was so whipped for their friend it was hilarious to witness.
The mood had finally changed, Pianoman seemed a bit more cheerful as well (and quite embarrassed about his previous scene, and about Lippmann’s hand still resting on his back).
“We should make a toast!”
Doc’s eyes glinted in excitement. “What should we toast to?”
“I should make a toast to myself after enduring your pranks all night long!”
“To Lippmann, then!” Albatross had surprisingly indulged him by raising his glass first, too tired to fight back maybe. A warm feeling flooded Lippmann’s chest; his hand landed on Albatross' to stop him.
“To the Flags.”
Iceman smirked at that, Chuuya jumped on his feet to tap his glass against the others’. The toast, this time, was unanimous.
“To the Flags!”
Chuuya waved goodbye to Pianoman and Albatross and entered his apartment, he was still wasted and feeling a bit sick. Distrusting his ability to keep himself upright, he resorted to fluctuating until he reached his couch and flopped on it, face down on the cushion.
After taking a long, deep breath he started making himself comfortable enough to pass out there despite his previous intention to check if he had gotten any texts while he was away. Chuuya fell asleep with half a glove still on.
The screen of his phone lit up as it received a notification, a text from Mackerel.
hi hi chuuya, just wanted to show you how pathetic you and your friends looked tonight. enjoy your hangover, you tiny lightweight :)
Attached to the text, a pic taken from outside the bar’s window. A wooden table shining under the warm neon lights, young men full of life celebrating their accomplishments in a shitty bar near the Port Mafia’s docks. Albatross ruffling Chuuya’s hair, Pianoman showing photos to Lippmann, Doc and Iceman conversing idly. For once, the Mackerel was able to act like a decent person.
Chuuya would have to thank him in the morning.