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1
Yusaku was nervous. You could see it in his gaze and stiff posture, and he had already cursed himself a hundred times, at the very least, that cool mid-spring morning.
He, who had studied acting for years, found himself being too much himself at the least opportune time of all.
(People were watching him – not to mention staring – too much. All those curious eyes only increased his sense of uneasiness, which had taken root perfectly in his gut, planting solid and resistant roots that were impossible to tear out and that had brutally closed the mouth of his stomach).
He tried to concentrate on the cappuccino and brioche he had ordered, but in vain. At least, unlike him, Ryoken seemed calm and at ease, feelings that Yusaku forced himself to try in order not to let his emotional condition degenerate further, even if the results weren't coming even by begging them on his knees, lost who knows where along the way.
The last thing he wanted was to fuel even more rumors about them, especially the intimate and personal ones. But that was a really hard goal to achieve...
2
The TV series VRAINS had been a huge success with its first season, so much so that there was already talk of not just a renewal, but a third season as well. Yusaku only hoped that the plot would not get lost along the way
(or worse: that it wouldn't go to keep company with the feelings he couldn't feel at that moment)
and that the characterization of the characters wouldn't fade into nothingness, as often happened when you couldn't handle all the success you had achieved in a very short time.
Playmaker and Revolver had become iconic characters, the audience wanted more and more of them, and he and Ryoken – but also all the rest of the cast – who were they not to please? Always hoping that everything would not end up in cosmic nothingness or in episodes so drab and structured only to lengthen the broth that they did not make the slightest sense.
Or maybe Yusaku was so apprehensive about the fate of VRAINS because that TV series had marked his official debut in the world of entertainment and, consequently, he would always look at it with a slightly enamored eye.
Unlike him, Ryoken had been living in that obstacle-filled jungle for quite some time: in addition to taking part in some movies and commercials, he was also a model, and often his face – as well as his attractive physique – was imprinted on the covers of countless magazines and newspapers – and who knows how many copies circulated each time.
(Yusaku wasn't jealous. Absolutely not).
He was also very active on social media, unlike Yusaku who always tried to externalize the right things about himself and his personal life without ever getting out of line. Not that Ryoken was one of those who updated followers of every little thing, even the most trivial, but he certainly knew how to talk about himself and entertain his audience even outside of a pre-set part in a TV series, a commercial or a movie. Yusaku admired
(and maybe even a little envious of)
the way Ryoken always managed to establish a relationship with his fans even through a screen.
Yusaku never liked to appear, which was an abnormal paradox, since in VRAINS he wasn't even playing a minor role, but the protagonist. And to be the protagonist of such a successful series
(he should have imagined this despite his immense naivety)
implied that people were interested not only in the character, but also in the person.
From that point of view, Yusaku didn't have much to offer: he was just another guy who led a quiet life outside of the cameras, nothing more, nothing less. He had noticed, however, that since he had started a relationship with Ryoken his days had changed drastically, becoming at times unrecognizable, faded mirages of what they had once been not so far away.
The concept of privacy seemed to have dissolved into nothingness in a concert of a thousand soap bubbles: people were greedy to know what he was doing and where he was whenever he wasn't on set. They were all hungry and their hunger for constant last-minute news knew no bounds.
Among some over-excited fans who often clashed with the haters, there was a separate category that, unfortunately, particularly stood out: the paparazzi.
And if people continued to feed their tireless hunger for last-minute news, they owed it mainly to the paparazzi, to whom even just a blurred or low-resolution photo was enough to spread news on the net that had no foundation and that only created havoc, raising toxic, carcinogenic and unbreathable dust.
Fortunately, Yusaku had never had such experiences himself, but he knew how unpredictable and sometimes malicious the paparazzi were, and it had been a long time since he and Ryoken had been constantly photographed without their knowledge. It was nothing compromising, but it still smeared every quiet moment they spent together with the indelible ink of intrusiveness.
Yusaku sensed that there was someone there in the middle ready to pull out his camera once his guard was down; he knew that the people sitting at the tables around them had recognized them and that it was only a matter of time before some fan would show up wanting an autograph or a picture to post on social media; he caught every little buzz in the background, because people had an incessant need to talk about anyone and he and Ryoken were so exposed that for a moment he wondered why he had ever decided to pursue an acting career.
Maybe it was a stress, both physical and emotional, that was not for him. He wasn't like Ryoken who always managed to land on his feet, he often stumbled and stayed there on the floor, his knees scraped and an immense urge to cry and lock himself under the warm blankets.
He had nothing to justify himself about, because at the end of the day he was simply being himself, and yet he had come to feel guilty about everything that was happening. And then...
(«What are you thinking?»)
3
All the flow of his thoughts melted away like snow kissed by the scorching heat of the sun. Ryoken was calling out to him, and Yusaku wondered how many minutes he had been mute. Maybe he had Ryoken worried.
Yusaku realized, as he blinked several times, that in all likelihood his cappuccino had now cooled.
«Nothing much... I just feel like I'm being watched, but maybe I'm working too much with my imagination» he finally replied, shrugging – and lying in a very bad way, to say the least.
«You still don't feel so safe leaving the house?» Ryoken asked point blank.
Yusaku gasped, now unable to hide.
(With Ryoken, then, it was always impossible for him).
(Ryoken was like the final boss in the immense tangle of levels of his emotionality: too strong to be beaten).
He bit his lower lip, paling all his discomfort as he went back to looking at the cappuccino.
«Hey». Ryoken's voice anchored him back to solid reality. And Yusaku winced a second time the moment he felt his boyfriend's hand rest candidly on his own.
«Never mind what they say and wherever they say it» Ryoken continued in a soft voice. «What happens behind the scenes belongs to us and us alone».
He squeezed his hand a little tighter and Yusaku let that gentle touch lull him.
«Besides...» Ryoken added with a hint of mischief in his gaze, «if they knew everything, just everything about what goes on behind the scenes, trust me they'd be a thousand times more wild».
«R-Ryoken!» Yusaku exclaimed, flushed. He would have liked to cover his face with both hands, but his boyfriend's grip was quite firm.
«You're right, though» he said then, when he grew quiet. «Besides, our relationship is... it's going well, isn't it?» he asked, a slight note of apprehension smearing his tone of voice.
He knew, really. He knew that despite what was happening every day, everything, between them, was going swimmingly. But he still needed to hear it.
«Yes» Ryoken confirmed, smiling. «It's going great».
And that was fine, then. Yusaku didn't need to know anything else.
Let the world know and speak for itself.
They were happy together anyway. And they were even happier when they could express themselves without following a script. Always and in any case.