Archive of Our Own ^beta

“And our special guest today is… someone we’ve all been waiting for, for a very long time!!” The MC pauses for dramatic effect, letting the excited squeals wash in for a beat, two, three—and then he grins at the nearest camera, reassuming his presence over the audience with a wink.

“He was turning heads ever since he was a child, gracing our eyes like an otherworldly angel.” The MC places a hand on his heart as the monitors roll through a glowing cut of a young boy: youth clothing spreads, child actor roles, teen fashion modeling. “And then we all fell in love with him again when he made his long-awaited idol debut—a hot debut for sure, charting for weeks!” The AV cut shifts to a faster pace as the chipper melody of his debut single fades in, and a few excited squeals erupt from the crowd as it lingers on a closeup on his face—conveniently and strategically on one of his best angles. “He’s the complete package, folks, he’s perfection personified! The hot rookie from Lunar Entertainment with an enchanting voice—”

“—Ugh,” Heath cringes in the wings. “Do they really have to say all that?”

“Why not?” Shino shrugs, casual and fearless next to him as a staff member finishes taping down the last wire of his mic. “It’s all true, anyway.”

Heath shoots him a look. “Shino.”

“—and let’s not get started on his visuals! Fans everywhere fell in love with the princely aura he radiated on stage—”

“Heh,” Shino smirks at the monitor, now brightening up the backstage area with a supercut of his pre-hiatus work—Heath watches as a smugness beyond his understanding lights up Shino’s smile. The bright stages of his past life flicker across Shino’s face in the dim light, and Heath’s eyes follow as they color over the gloss on his lips. “That’s right,” Shino whispers, as the monitor cuts back to show the cheering audience.

Heath blinks. “What’s right?”

“Your visuals, duh.”

“Are you still going on about that—”

“—Finally back from hiatus, it’s our beloved young prince, the one and only… Heath!!”

Screams from the studio audience overflow to the wings of the stage, submerging him in noise the moment he steps out of the curtains. He smothers his hesitation with every step under the bright lights and lets his training kick in as he smiles and waves at expectant faces he can’t see.

“And with him is the mysterious new member, the other half of this highly-anticipated new unit! I know we’ve all seen the teasers, ladies—” the MC winks directly into a nearby camera, in time with the excited chatter washing over the studio audience. “And here he finally is! The long-awaited other half... Shino!!”

“Thanks,” Shino waves to the audience as he steps out, his cool, casual calm never once wavering—it’s exactly like Heath has always remembered him, and the familiarity is jarring against the flashy clothes and the bright lights that wrap around Shino for the first time. Something hot and sharp runs through the pit of Heath’s stomach as he watches Shino join him on stage, and aches when he blows the audience a kiss.

I could never pull off that kind of casual confidence, he sighs to himself as they get into place—the clicker starts counting down the intro in their in-ear monitors. Or have the guts, for that matter.

“Here with their debut single, give it up for TB×E!” The MC gives them the cue, and as the MR starts Heathcliff smiles the feelings away like a professional.

“I still don’t understand why the company wants me to re-debut in a unit.” Heath fidgets with his hands in his lap as his new manager slides a project folder across the table.

“Well,” his—their—new manager says, giving him what is probably meant to be a reassuring smile. “I think they want you to have someone supporting you on stage.”

“Or minimize my risk.”

“Which is still only meant to help you.”

Heath doesn’t open the folder, picking at the corner of it instead. The sharp letters of TB×E loom at him from below. “But Shino?” He shakes his head. “Why drag him into my mess?”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” their manager pats his arm. “Having an experienced partner like you is a great opportunity for any new debuting idol. Think of it as a way to help him!”

“That can’t be the only reason.”

“Well…” Their manager scratches his nose. “That, and the higher-ups at Lunar felt this would be the best fit: not just because of your existing friendship, but also based on your contracts and trainee periods.”

“...My ex-manager’s mess, you mean.”

Their manager gives him a sorry smile, soft with pity, and Heath stifles the urge to scream. “With all due respect—may he rest in peace—while he did leave us a rather… unusual tangle of legal clauses in your contracts, the fact is we simply didn’t have a lot of trainees around that period. None of our current trainees seem able to keep up with you, at any rate, so I think things would’ve turned out this way regardless.”

“I should’ve just quit.” Heath’s head thumps against the tabletop.

“You’re very kind,” their manager pats his shoulder.

“No, I’m not,” Heath mutters against the hard surface. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You came back, after all.” His voice floats above him in the dark. “You felt a responsibility to your fans.”

I felt a responsibility to my contract, Heath thinks as he presses his forehead against the cold plastic. I’m not kind at all.

“Contract or not,” their manager continues, and Heath looks up. “It takes a lot to go through what you did and then get back up on stage, you know.” He gathers his papers and gives them a neat tap against the table surface. “It might not mean much coming from a new employee like me, but… I’d like it if you gave yourself more credit than that.”

“We’re certainly excited to have you back in the studio, Heath!”

“Thank you for having us!” Heath smiles, muscle memory already transitioning from bowing to the MC to making friendly waves at the cameras—he toes the side of Shino’s boot to do the same.

“Well, I suppose we could say ‘welcome for the first time’, too! After all, you’re no longer the soloist ‘Heath’, but re-debuting as part of a duo. Speaking of welcome, how about a warm welcome for Shino, who’s joining us for the first time today?” He makes a grand gesture towards the audience, and the audience responds with screams and cheers. “Go ahead, introduce yourself!”

“Sup,” Shino raises a hand. “I’m Shino. Thanks for having me.”

“Now I hear,” the MC starts up again, rifling through the thick stack of cue cards; he misses the second nudge from Heath's foot. “That the two of you are actually childhood friends?”

“That’s right,” Heath smiles in response, speaking up before Shino can. “We actually started our trainee days together! We’re both from the East, hence the name of our unit: The Boys crossing the East, or TB×E for short.” He gives a little chuckle, acknowledging it with the proper dose of charming self-deprecation expected of new idols with names they don’t get to choose. “The × symbolizes ‘crossing’—it represents our hopes to cross borders and reach people across the Continent.” He finishes rattling off the flimsy naming sense drilled into him with his best diplomatic smile.

“So you’re both from the East, and you trained together... that certainly explains your excellent teamwork, as we just saw!”

“Heath beat me to the punch, though,” Shino jumps in with a casual arm slung over Heath’s shoulder. “But I’m finally here with him.” He looks up and smiles, suddenly smug and full of life compared to the short, blunt responses from earlier. “I caught up.”

“I-It’s not a competition,” Heath grits out through the locked set of his teeth, still maintaining the showbiz smile.

“How nice, you’re like brothers!” The MC nods, and the studio audience titters in excited giggles and squeals.

“Yeah,” Shino smirks. He jabs a thumb at Heath. “He’s the little brother, though.”

“Huh?!” Heath's poker face finally breaks, the flush spreading to the tips of his ears. “You’re—” he remembers to keep his volume down. “—you’re obviously the younger one!”

“Yeah,” he turns to fully face him, forgetting about the cameras. “But I have to take care of you, so you’re definitely the little brother.”

“How cute!” The MC laughs as Heath struggles to remember how to handle himself on variety shows. “This is certainly a new side to the Heath we know, isn’t it? Well, we certainly look forward to seeing more of TB×E from now on!”

You really don’t have to, Heath thinks. “Thank you very much!” his ingrained training chirps. “We hope you enjoy it!”

“I can’t believe you,” Heath huffs on their way up the stairs to their classroom.

“Believe what?” Shino easily catches up from behind, striding up the stairs two at a time with effortless grace.

No wonder they made him the main dancer, Heath thinks. “Last night’s show,” he scolds instead.

“It turned out good, though.” Shino pulls out his phone and taps open Nyatter. “You’re trending.”

“Trending,” Heath sighs as they enter the classroom. “isn’t always a good thing.”

“Is it?” Shino taps again, and shows him a list. “People seem to love it, though. You and TB×E are trending first and second.” He pulls the phone back and smiles again at the rankings. “People know what’s up.”

Heath leans over to look at the list. “Shino, you’re third.” His ears flush when he sees ‘little brother’ just below, at fourth place. He misses the ’welcome back’ associated with the first trending topic.

“Who cares,” Shino taps open a screenshot of Heath’s face from an emoji-laden post. “You’re first, that’s all that matters.”

You could stand to care a little more about it! “You—”

“—sorry I’m late.” The door opens again to a thin figure laden with books. “Anyways, put your phones down. It’s time for class.”

“Faust,” Shino says, doing the exact opposite and shoving his phone in their teacher’s face. “Look, Heath’s trending.”

“...So are you,” Heath mutters into his backpack.

“That’s great,” Faust says, not unkindly as he opens his own textbooks and starts drafting diagrams on the whiteboard. “But now it’s time for biochemistry.” He pauses briefly, turning to send Shino back to his desk with a soft pat on the shoulder. “It’s good that your work is going well, but don’t forget, you’re still students. And my job is to make sure you succeed academically.” As his hand pushes Shino along, Heath catches a glimpse of the white scar snaking under his sleeve—he reflexively rubs a spot along his hip, close to his own faded mark.

“I’m—so sorry,” Heath stutters out at Faust’s bedside, barely able to choke back his tears.

“For what,” Faust clucks back from his nest of pillows and tubes. “You did nothing wrong.”

“But you ended up like this because,” he furiously blinks back the increasing threat of tears. “You pushed me out of the way.”

“So only one of us ended up like this, as opposed to the both of us. I’d say that’s a better outcome.” Faust scolds him in his typical levelheaded way, so endearingly familiar to Heath. “And it’s not as if you were the one behind the wheel.”

A sob fights its way up from his chest to his throat, and Heath struggles to force the lump back down. “B-but, it was my manager—”

“—Precisely,” Faust emphasizes with a look usually reserved for wrong answers. “That person was not you.”

“He was there to get me—”

“—and his poor driving was his responsibility. Not yours.” Faust scoffs. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of him, especially after what happened… but at any rate.” Faust’s arm emerges from the tangle of tubing and blankets to softly nudge Heath’s hand. “You didn’t put me in danger. His actions did—and not just me, but you and other bystanders as well. And in the end,” his voice loses the sharp instructor’s edge to it. “He did end up paying for it.”

“But if you didn’t have to stay late for my supplemental lessons—”

“—I was doing my job—”

“—I could’ve finished earlier, or I could’ve waited alone—”

“—Heath,” Faust stops him with another sharp look. “You know I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Heath wipes away the tears threatening to fall from his lashes. “...Yes, sir.”

“Goodness,” Faust sighs, with a soft pat on Heath’s head. “You’re normally such a bright student, too.”

“That’s all the time we have for tonight,” Faust closes the textbook, and Heath finishes dutifully copying down the last of the diagrams on the whiteboard.

“Faust,” Shino pulls out his phone to snap a pic of the board. “I don’t really get this part,” he zooms in to a specific formula on the screen. “This reaction is kinda confusing.”

“Shino,” Heath scolds. “At least call him Mr... And don’t take up too much of his time, he’s already staying late for us because of our work schedule.”

“I don’t mind,” Faust says, packing his books. “I can explain it on the way out.”

“Cool,” Shino grabs his bag—already packed—and opens the door for them.

Heath watches from behind as Faust explains the concept to Shino, thin hands tracing shapes in the air. Faust—it’s Mr. Lavinia, be respectful, he reminds himself—teaches in a way that’s clear and straightforward, and underneath his stoic professionalism there’s a warm, sincere generosity and a willingness to go the extra mile for his students. It must be nice, he thinks, to be so smart, and capable, and level-headed. I wish I could be like that. His hand fidgets along the strap of his backpack. It’s definitely more respectable than… whatever I’m doing now.

“Heath,” Faust’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and Heath stops in his tracks.

“Yes?”

“Did you have a question for me, too?”

“Ah,” Heath shakes his head. “Not really... I was just thinking, that I really do respect you.”

“Huh?” Faust blinks, slightly taken aback. “Where is this coming from?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Heath continues as they step outside to the warm evening air. “That you got that difficult concept through to Shino.” He laughs softly at Shino’s disgruntled look. “I hope I can grow up to become more like you.”

Faust freezes in his step—when he finally answers, it’s with a deep, quiet sigh, the cool reservation of it jarring against the warm glow of admiration. “Heath,” he shakes his head. “You think too little of yourself.” He turns away, voice distant as he occupies himself with tucking his notebook away. “You need to find a better role model,” he says, never raising his eyes.

“Huh?”

“—Faust!”

The three of them stop outside the prep center as an unfamiliar voice calls out his teacher’s name. His eyes finally catch a waving figure lightly jogging over to them; as he gets closer Heath notices the sudden stiffness in Faust’s shoulders, accompanied by eyes widening behind the thin frames of his glasses. Shino looks over at the figure, then sends Heath a questioning glance from behind—to which Heath can only respond with a shrug, and Shino rolls his eyes and glares at the stranger for daring to interrupt them.

“Hey, what a coincidence!” The stranger smiles. “I was just in the area.” The white coat draped over his shoulders vaguely reminds Heath of a doctor’s coat, and he wonders if he might be an acquaintance from Faust’s past. Perhaps a doctor, or a fellow academic? Could he possibly be a friend, and Heath mistook Faust’s genuine surprise?

Halfway into their dinner—and reviewing a thick folder of references for their new concept—Heath wonders out loud. “I wonder who that was?”

“Who knows,” Shino shrugs at his plate, visibly disappointed by Heath shooting down his wish for expensive meat.

“I am kind of curious, though.” Heath pushes aside his plate to spread out the sample images, dividing the reference styles into groups. “It’s rare to see glimpses of Fa—Mr. Lavinia’s life outside of class.” He picks up a photo of himself, a cut from an old magazine spread, and furrows his brows; he sets it off to the side, unable to find a place for it.

“Yeah,” Shino’s eyes follow the path of Heath’s hands. “I guess.”

“You’re not curious?” Heath pauses as he picks up a photo of Shino halfway through the folder—he almost doesn’t recognize his childhood friend’s face from the stack. “I thought you’d definitely want to find out more.” He squints at the phone next to Shino’s plate. “You’re always looking at social media and stuff.”

“That and this are different.” Shino shovels a forkful into his mouth. “People post because they wanna blab. Faust, though?” He pauses for another mouthful. “He doesn’t talk about it, so I figure he’s got his reasons. ‘Sides,” he looks up to meet Heath’s eyes. “He’s a good dude. Why bother digging?”

“Wow,” Heath blinks, the photo still clutched in his hand. “That’s… a little unexpected. Coming from you.”

“Is it?” Shino shrugs. “Everyone’s got shit they don’t feel like talking about, even good guys.” He turns back to his plate. “So I’ll leave it alone.”

“Oh,” Heath blinks again, stunned by this new side to Shino: unexpectedly thoughtful in his own way, sincere in his quiet expression of respect for Faust’s unspoken wishes. It’s a very grown-up response, his mind begrudgingly admits—and for a moment he thinks he sees Shino like the fans do, charming and cool like the photo staring up at him.

Since when were you like this? His heart lurches at the thought. When did you grow up so much, he wonders, at the maturing boy sitting across from him.

“...And he looked like a dick.”

“Huh?” The response escapes Heath before his mind has a chance to catch up. Just when I was thinking nice things about you—

“—Thought I could make him go away, but.” Shino stabs his fork into his food. “Guess it didn’t work. Sorry, Faust.”

“Oh my god, Shino.”

“C’mon. Dude looked slimy as hell.”

“Oh… oh my god.” Bright, sharp eyes bore into Heath’s face at point-blank range, and the sudden proximity sends Heath shifting backwards. “I knew you were pretty—but to think, you’re even prettier in person...! I can’t believe it!”

“Right?” Shino gives the newcomer a smug smile, and Heath actively suppresses his usual knee-jerk response.

No point in getting worked up every time, he reasons with himself. Especially while we’re at work. Instead, Heath tries to smile back in greeting. “T-thank you… Nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh! Sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” The stylist laughs it off and reaches out a hand to both of them in turn. “Nice to meet you both! I’m Chloe, and I’ll be your stylist for this new concept.” He quickly unloads hangers and pieces from the rack, laying them out in sets and building outfits on the cramped meeting room table. “I have to say, I’m super excited to be styling you guys! I mean, out of all the idols out there I get to style Heath? You’re, like, super pretty, I love all your modeling work! Not to mention you,” he turns to Shino, clothes now taking over the empty chairs. “Are the mysterious new member who came out of nowhere and immediately started turning heads—you have this wild look about you that’s so different from Heath, and I love it! You guys have a contrast that complements each other so well,” Chloe smiles, holding up several accessories with a spark in his eyes. “Anyways—I look forward to working with you!”

“Thank you,” Heath replies, the smile coming easier this time in the face of such earnest sincerity. “You, too!”

“I took a look through the reference materials your company sent me—the theme this time is dark and edgy, huh?” Chloe pulls out a flashy animal-print number. “It’s definitely a departure from your previous work.” He holds it up to Heath, cocks his head, then puts it back in exchange for a dark piece heavy with chains and fur. “Well, why don’t we get started?” He hands it to Shino, who strips on the spot.

“Hey, how do I put this on?” Shino turns to Chloe, clearly struggling with all the parts and accessories. Heath quickly turns away with his own outfit, managing to keep a straight face, offering up a rare moment of silent gratitude to his model training.

“Like this… and this… and done!” Heath hears the brush of Chloe’s hands against the fabric of Shino’s outfit. “Wow, you look great! This concept really suits you.”

“Nice,” Heath hears Shino say as he picks up the last accessory of his own outfit—he hooks the choker in place onto his reflection's throat, and is unable to put aside the distinct feeling of a harnessed animal. “We match,” Shino smiles once he finally turns around. Immediately he’s at his side, leaning in with his phone. “Selfie?”

Heath looks at their own selves reflected on the phone screen. “This… looks really good on you,” he admits to the photo, unable to face the real thing. I hardly recognize you, he thinks, the realization rising weakly from his fluttering stomach only to die at the collar around his throat.

“You, too.” Shino takes a few more snaps at different angles. “Next?”

They make surprisingly quick work of the outfit options, even with Shino pausing for photos of them—and Chloe joins in, using the photos as reference once the both of them change back into their original clothes.

“You guys definitely look great,” Chloe nods as he swipes through his phone. “But I feel like I could do more? Like right now, the clothes are just hanging off you. I mean, you guys are really working these fits, don’t get me wrong.”

“I liked them,” Heath offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “And so did he,” he nods in Shino’s direction, currently scrolling through his camera roll with glee.

“Hmm, I’m glad you liked them… but styling is meant to make you shine, you know? Right now, it’s the opposite: you’re making the clothes look good, and that’s no way to be a stylist.” He crosses his arms, face pensive as he cocks his head. “Hmm, what should I do… maybe I’ll bounce ideas off Rutile when we get brunch.” He shakes his head and unfurls his tape measure. “For the time being, can I take your measurements?”

“Of course,” Heath gets up and takes off his jacket and stands up straight, holding out his arms. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” Chloe answers, pencil and notebook already in hand. “You’re used to this, aren’t you?”

“More or less,” Heath chuckles weakly.

“Wow, you have great posture,” Chloe remarks, crouching as he takes his measurements. “Not to mention your legs! They’re so long! And your face is tiny! You have fantastic proportions, has anyone ever told you that?”

“I see you’re a man of culture,” Shino says from somewhere behind him.

“Shino,” Heath starts, but holds still as Chloe’s tape makes contact with him again.

“It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Chloe laughs as he takes notes. “I mean, it definitely makes my job more fun!” He stands and turns to Shino, posing him like a puppet with light, quick touches—Shino, to Heath’s eternal surprise, submits without struggle. “That’s why I love my work: with the right styling, I can bring out a person’s best traits.” Chloe jots down notes in his little book as he works, and Heath notices the pages jam-packed with swatches and tabs. “My work can really let them and their efforts shine.” His hand briefly stills over the pages. “Not just cover them up... or hide them away.”

“I like you,” Shino leans over Chloe’s head with an approving nod. “You know what’s up.”

“Haha, thanks!” Chloe brightens again and accepts his high-five, the smile between them chasing away the mysterious shadow. “I like you guys, too. And that’s why I really want to do a good job with your outfits, because I want to bring out all of your charms—oh, excuse me.” His phone interrupts the mysterious aura of camaraderie building between him and Shino, and he quickly answers once he sees the name on the screen. “Rustica? What’s up? Did something happen—oh my god?! Rustica?!” Heath catches a glimpse of a man waving from the phone screen before Chloe starts making a mad dash around the room, collecting the pieces and shoving them back on the rack.

Heath starts collecting a few shirts and hangs them up. “Do you need help? Is everything okay?”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, but.” Chloe blindly wrangles a bulky coat back onto the rack with one hand, deathly pale and still clutching his phone with the other. “I think I have to go.” He gives a lacy something-or-other one final shove onto the bulging rack and starts wheeling it through the door. “Rustica, no, put those down! I’ll be there soon, just—just don’t touch anything, okay?!” He turns back to give them a quick wave. “Sorry about this! But I’ll be in touch, hopefully I’ll have those new outfits for you soon!” A crash of something mysterious against piano keys comes tumbling from his phone speaker, and Chloe’s face goes fully blue. “Gotta go, bye!”

“Bye,” Shino waves as Chloe sprints down the hallway, rack rattling violently as he picks up speed. “Catch you later.”

I caught up, Heath heaves a sigh of relief as he stretches; his finished homework stares up at him from the table, accompanied by his cold half-eaten plate. The cafe booth seat creaks as he rolls his shoulders and stretches his legs.

“—Just hear me out, Nero.”

“Get out of my joint.”

Heath turns toward the sudden squabble, and watches as a scarred man leans into the cafe owner’s face. “C’mon,” drawls the stranger’s deep voice. “Don’t be so cold. You and me, we go way back—”

“—I’m done with that shit.” Nero smacks something large and blunt against his palm—he can’t really make it out from the weird angle.

“But it’s me, your ol’ partner! I just wanna talk—”

“—Ten seconds,” Nero says, brandishing the object.

“H-hey now,” the stranger steps back. “Let’s just put that down—”

“—Ten,” Nero starts, stepping forward. He twists a knob at the top of what Heath finally recognizes as... a pepper mill?

“Hey—” The stranger inches back further, large hands flying up to cover his face.

“—Five—”

“—Okay, okay!” The man beats a hasty retreat to the door. “But I’ll be back!”

Nero shakes the pepper mill after his retreating figure. “No you won’t, if you know what’s good for you!”

“Pepper, not salt?” Heath wonders, then raises a hand to his mouth when Nero turns to him—he must’ve said it out loud.

“Hm?” Nero blinks at him, then looks down at the pepper mill in his hand. “Ah, oh, um.” He hastily puts it down on a nearby counter. “Just had it on hand.” He laughs, flat and awkward in the bizarre atmosphere left by the scarred stranger. “Though you’re right, maybe I should break out the salt.” He rolls his neck, and eventually his eyes fall down to Heath’s half-eaten plate; he stares at it like a distant memory until he shakes his head, chasing it away. “Anyways, back to work! Holler if you need anything.”

“What was that all about?” Shino comes out of nowhere to slide into the booth seat opposite him.

“When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Shino shrugs as he immediately steals a cold fry from Heath’s plate. “Almost bumped into some weirdo.”

The scarred man from moments ago briefly flashes in his mind. “Huh.”

Shino leans over the table, closing the proximity between them—no, between him and Heath’s fries. “Did you finish?” His hand reaches for more, and Heath pushes the plate closer to him.

“Just now,” Heath replies. “How was your make-up lesson?”

“Ugh,” Shino stabs a fry deep into the ketchup.

“Mr. Lavinia is doing his best to help us,” Heath reminds him. “Don’t be like that.”

“I know,” Shino mumbles through the mass of fries in his mouth. “Faust is a good guy, I know that from him giving me all this extra help. But book-learning just isn’t my thing, y’know? I’m more of a,” he shrugs and shoves more fries into his mouth. “Hands-on type.” Shino polishes off the last of the fries, and Heath hands him the menu. “Man. Studying and doing this idol stuff at the same time is harder than I thought.”

“Why’d you do it, then?” The question is out before Heath realizes what he’s voiced out loud; his hand flies up to his mouth.

Shino skips the ’Start your day off right—try our Omelet Specials for Brunch!’ page without a glance. “You, duh.”

“Wait.” Heath blinks, hand dropping. “What?”

He shrugs, giving the appetizers a look-through before turning the page. “Wherever you go, I go.”

“What?”

“Wherever you go, I go,” Shino repeats, eyes never leaving the list of entrées. “Hmm, think I’ll get the pot-au-feu.”

“No, I heard you the first time.” Heath shakes his head, then peers at him over the menu. “I mean... why?”

Shino simply shrugs again, eyes now closely scanning the dessert menu.

Heath is at a loss. “This industry isn’t one you get into on a whim, and not for such a—” He searches for the right words, but his prep-school-drilled vocabulary chooses to abandon him completely in the moment. Flimsy? Simple? Ridiculous? “—a, a silly reason? More like,” he stares down at his notebooks, head spinning, eyes unable to make sense of his own writing. “That’s not really a reason.”

“It’s not silly, and it’s not not a reason,” Shino puts the menu down. “You’re my reason. And not just for the idol gig, I mean—” he waves a hand vaguely in the air. “—in general. For everything.”

Heat immediately floods Heath’s face. What do you mean by that! he wants to yell. “You’re definitely taking this industry too lightly,” he mutters instead; his hands twist in his lap, the strange warm feeling in his chest terrifying in how it spreads against his will.

“Maybe,” Shino waves toward Nero, who grabs a notepad and heads over. “But it’s pretty fun so far. I like it. Besides,” he grins in that same way he’s seen thousands of times since they were kids, before they were idols—the aching familiarity of it grips him. “I gotta take care of you. You’re the little brother, remember?”

“Heath,” comes a small whisper from his window, accompanied by sharp little taps against the glass. The swaying branches outside reflect silver in the moonlight, and Heath knows exactly who it is from the cloudless sky beyond heavy curtains.

“Shino?” Heath opens the window. It’s tough work, the window too high for a child’s height; but he does his best to push it up, and he’s soon rewarded by Shino swinging in from a tree branch. Leaves and streaks of dirt litter the pristine windowsill, and Heath makes a note to clean it up before anyone can scold Shino.

“Here,” his friend holds out a bundle of flowers, the gift offered up before getting himself back on his feet. “You looked down when you came home earlier.”

Heath takes the rough bouquet, never once minding the roots and clumps of dirt trailing at the ends. “Wow… they’re beautiful.” He feels warmth spread through his chest for the first time that day—maybe the week—and smiles softly. “Thanks, Shino.”

“No big deal,” Shino shrugs. “Besides, what’s the deal with that old dude? You look terrible every time you come home with him.”

“Oh, that’s my teacher—well, also manager.” Heath pats his shoulder and tries to explain. “He started teaching me, but now he helps me with my work.”

“He looks creepy,” Shino wrinkles his nose. “I don’t like him.”

Heath pushes harsh words and cold gazes out of his mind. “He’s a professional, and Father and Mother found him for me... I’m sure they mean well.”

“Hmm… Really?”

“Yeah.” He can’t let his parents’ goodwill go to waste, after all.

Shino stares at his face for a while. “You have to deal with a lot of grown-ups, huh?”

“It’s okay,” Heath shakes his head. “I’m used to it.”

“Huh,” Shino just says, still staring.

Heath turns away, looking back down at the flowers. “I should put these in a vase,” he decides, and gets up to look for one.

“What if I go with you?” Shino speaks up, catching him by the back of his shirt. “It’d be less lonely, right?”

“Oh!” Heath imagines the possibilities—tough lessons, scary studios with adults and no friends, and the constant hours of travel alone in the blacked-out van. It’d be so nice to have Shino with him: hand in hand, braving the hours of work together. The thought warms his heart, even lights a smile on his face.

He turns to Shino, framed by the night sky in the window, and—

“—it’s okay,” Heath says, clutching the flowers tight to his chest. Shino in the dark of the windowless van, Shino trapped under the hot lights of the studio, Shino scolded by adults—Heath shakes his head and puts on his manager’s favorite smile. “I’ll be okay!”

Shino cocks his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Heath nods—keeping the sight of Shino surrounded by open sky in his heart, deciding that this scenery should stay like this. He should stay like this.

“But… still, feel free to visit.” Heath’s hands fidget along the hem of Shino’s sleeve, the outline caught in the moonlight. “Maybe I’ll have cookies next time.”

In the cold morning daylight, Heath rises and greets his manager.

“No time to waste,” he brusquely turns away, and Heath meekly follows him out the door. “We’ve got a full day today, I hope you’ve prepared?”

“Yes, sir,” Heath nods as he gets in the van. “I—”

“‘Sup,” comes a familiar voice, and Heath’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Shino?!”

“I saw him earlier.” His manager gives him a cold smile from the driver seat—the light doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s fairly athletic, and has good reflexes; that kind of talent is worth bringing into Lunar. He can start as a trainee, we might be able to use him in the future.” His manager starts the engine, noise roaring in Heath’s ears. “Aren’t you happy to have a friend with you?” he says, and the door shuts behind him with a final thud.

“Aren’t you happy to have me with you?”

Heath raises his eyes to see Shino, smirking from across the cafe table. The early evening sky floods in through the window, dusky gold tracing tousled hair and rolled sleeves and stains on hands and lips. He takes in the sight of him, altogether messy, nostalgic, blinding—and completely beyond his reach.

“...I don’t have the right.”

“Hm?” Shino looks up from his lemon pie. “What was that?”

Heath shakes his head. “I can lend you my notes,” he says, pulling out a notebook from his bag and pushing it across the table. “Here,” he says, eyes fixed on the cover. “This might help.”

“Ooh,” Shino grins. “Thanks. Now I’ll definitely do well.”

It’s the least I can do, Heath thinks to Shino’s smiling face, framed by dusklight and pie crumbs. When it’s all my fault.

“—And that’s about it,” the choreographer finishes with a last pose, Shino in tow, and their manager gives them a little round of applause from the sidelines.

“Amazing!” Their manager says, Shino’s clearly smug expression infecting him in turn. “I can’t believe you already got it down, but that’s our Shino! You’re not our main dancer for nothing!”

Shino whips his head to Heath, arm still raised in the ending pose. “Was I cool?” he asks, the spark in his eyes painfully puppy-like.

“You were,” Heath admits once the flutter in his chest subsides. He abruptly turns to the choreographer. “Thank you, Cain. I’m amazed at how fast you came up with this.”

“It was pretty fun!” Cain laughs as Shino finally sinks to the floor. “Your new concept’s got this real intense, powerful vibe, and I took the chance to try out some new stuff. Gotta say, though, while it’s not like your usual, it definitely fits Shino here—” he nudges him with his foot. “—to a tee.”

“We did plan it as a way to showcase him,” their manager nods. “Since he’s still a new face, we thought it’d be a good chance for fans to see more of what he’s capable of. TB×E’s overall unit concept is how the members are complete opposites, but capable of a wider variety with their combination: the unit’s activities will reflect that with the expansion of our creative direction.”

Cain whistles. “So, sounds like more work in the future.” He winks at their manager. “Call me!”

“Of course!” A mysterious gleam lights up their manager’s eyes as he clasps his hands together. “The art direction team is pretty fired up—they’re thinking about all the new concepts we can try, like a starry festival, an ancient cathedral, a fun summer beach resort, a haunted forest… we’re even in talks with Sanlio for a collab!” As soon as the high-profile label’s name leaves his mouth he suddenly freezes—a look of terror develops on his face, tinged with the guilt of a man who has accidentally given away spoilers. He clears his throat and quickly sits back down. “I should stop getting ahead of myself, these are all still in the works.” He turns to Heath. “That being said, this kind of dark, tough concept is a first for you, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Heath scratches his cheek. “I’m not sure I can pull it off, to be honest.”

Cain laughs and pats his head. “I think you can! But I’m happy to help you review parts you’re having trouble with.”

The entire thing! “Hmm, how about that dance break after the second chorus? It’s a pretty important part, so I think it could use some attention.” I can’t get in Shino’s way during his key moment, at the very least.

“Sure thing! Let’s start with the first eight-count,” Cain assumes Heath’s position as Shino gets up to settle into his—Heath mirrors from the back, eyes never leaving them. “So you go one—two—three-and-four, then turn on five and hit six, forward and out! Then on seven, we have that sound effect—you know the one—and that’s when you give the audience a big roar!” He and Shino both lunge toward the practice mirrors, letting out all their energy, and Heath jumps in the back. “And kick, slide back, eight—arms linked—and head down at and. That’s our pickup to the next eight-count, but let’s try this bit for now.”

Heath follows as Cain goes through the motions by him again, at a slower pace. “Hmm,” he cocks his head. “It just doesn’t look the same.”

“I think it’s getting there, though.” He picks up the music player. “Why don’t we try it with the music? That might help!”

The heavy beats of their new song blare through the studio as Heath and Shino step into place. They run through the song top to bottom, the entire choreo packed with tough jumps and flashy moves—but Shino flies through it flawlessly, feet light as feathers as he hits every beat with a high level of power and energy. Halfway through the challenging dance break Heath loses his concentration and simply stops where he lands, transfixed by the sight in the studio mirror.

“Wow,” Heath gasps, still catching his breath. I don’t know if I can replicate that, he admits, and the confession feels like ice in his veins.

“You know, Heath,” Cain starts, breaking his train of thought. “Now that I’ve seen the run-through, I don’t think you have to worry about your part looking different. You do have your own strengths.” He scratches his chin. “I put a lot of hip-hop-based elements in this, so intensity and power are important and all... But your style is more detailed and refined, with room for your vocals to really shine. So you can leave the intensity to Shino here—” he taps Shino’s head. “—and focus on your vocals while livening things up with details here and there.”

“Like with your expressions,” their manager adds, leaning forward from where he sits. “You’re great at conveying a mood with your expressiveness, especially from your modeling experience. Maybe we can use that?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Cain snaps his fingers. “Heath, be more expressive! Be wild, let loose!”

“...Let loose?”

He makes the roaring face at the mirror again. “The song title is Panther Eyes, y’know? It’s got this intense, edgy vibe—so you really gotta let that ferocity out! Be wild, be a beast!”

“...Wild,” Heath repeats. “Beast.”

The manager swipes through his tablet to pull up the concept moodboard. “The Panther Eyes concept is that of a ’wild beast breaking free’, so some tough expressions would really liven up the performance!”

Heath gets up and joins their manager at the table, leaning over his shoulder. “Sorry, would you mind if I looked at the references some more?”

“Of course not,” their manager hands him the tablet. “You really are diligent,” he says as Heath immediately starts from the top of the presentation, a smile forming as he sees Heath observe each reference carefully. “You might say you can’t do it, but you always manage to put that aside and give your best effort for each job. And then you always pull through in the end and blow everyone away!” He pats Heath’s arm. “You really are a professional.”

If I were really a professional, Heath flushes under warm words he doesn’t deserve. I wouldn’t be struggling so much with this.

“Cain,” Shino hollers from where he lays sprawled out on the floor. “Wanna run through that MurrTok dance while Heath’s reviewing?”

“Oh,” Cain perks up. “Oh yeah! Good call, it’s been a while since I’ve posted any content.”

“Amazing,” their manager laughs as they get to practicing. “Shino has so much energy—not to mention talent, keeping up with a dance influencer like Cain!”

“He really does,” Heath nods along, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the screen.

“I’m glad he finally gets to be on stage,” their manager remarks as the duo mark their positions, making sure to fit within the narrow screen of Cain’s phone. “It was such a shame to keep that talent hidden away all this time, you know?”

“You don’t know how good you have it, Heath.”

Heath freezes with his new script in front of him, a bit role in an idol drama featuring a popular ensemble cast. It’s only a few lines per episode, but Heath hasn’t slept properly in days; while the makeup can hide his shadows, they can’t stop the flutter of his eyelids.

“Yes, sir,” he meekly nods, sitting up straight, the drowsiness of minutes ago shattering under the frigid stare of his manager.

“Most people would kill to be in your position—a grand debut, immediate promotion cycles and work offers, and even a sold-out fanmeeting.” He taps out a quick email on his phone. “Do you know how much we spent on media buys alone? For a debuting artist, at that?” His knuckles rap the glass wall behind him, at the mass of billboards blinking over the bustling city streets.

All Heath can do is remain frozen where he sits, minimizing his presence as best as he can.

“So many trainees come and go while never getting their chance, Heath. Forget passing auditions or getting scouted, the real challenge is getting to debut! And even after that,” he sweeps an arm out at the constellation of ads, all rotating through different stars—soloists, actors, performance groups, and not a single duplicate face among them. “It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, it’s survival of the fittest.” He walks back to the table, jabbing a heavy finger at the script. “You’re lucky to get any job offer thrown your way. And you say you want to quit?”

Heath dares to nod—his nails dig into his palms as he braces himself in silence.

“Well, I suppose that’s fine.”

“Huh?” The response catches Heath off-guard; he expected to put up a fight, or at least spend some time in a debate.

“It’s fine,” His manager crosses his arms. “As long as you’re prepared for the cost, of course.”

Of course there’s something, he thinks as the familiar sinking feeling lands. “Cost?”

“That’s right,” he smiles, the light not reaching his eyes. “We wouldn’t invest so much into an asset that could leave us at the drop of a hat. We don’t mount campaigns for assets with liabilities, Heath, and we don’t acquire assets without securing their valuation over time.” He leans back against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and swipes through his phone. “What use is acquiring and training idols if we can’t guarantee a return on our investment?”

Assets? Investments? Heath’s knuckles turn white. You really do just see us as products, he thinks bitterly, disappointed at how utterly unsurprising it all is.

“If you quit now,” he taps to bring up a screen, and turns it to face him. “You’re on the hook for all the costs incurred to train you. Combined with the expenses for your debut, of course, including,” he grins wide this time, showing his teeth. “Personnel salaries.”

“What?!” Heath pales. “I never heard about this—”

“—oh, but you must have,” his manager’s voice takes on a patronizing simper. “It’s in your contract.”

“Contract?” Heath thinks back to any sort of contract he might have signed—but his memory comes up blank.

“Yes, a contract,” his manager nods. “It was a part of your trainee orientation packet, of course.”

“I’d,” Heath tries to stay calm, fighting the waver in his voice as his mind scrambles to figure out when and how he could have signed a legal binding document without adult supervision. “I’d like a copy of this contract, please.” He could probably figure a way out—he could talk to his family lawyers, or consult the internet, something, anything. He’d have to be careful to make sure his parents didn’t find out, but how much effort could that be? Considering it would be for the sake of maintaining the Blanchett name, it’d be but a bump in the road, an undertaking worth every effort.

“Of course,” his manager agrees without so much as batting an eye, and the dread in Heath’s gut grows. “But I should let you know, I think you’ll find the partnership clause at the end to be of particular interest.”

“...Why’s that?”

“You’ll be on the hook, but so will the partner you entered the company with. Naturally, it’ll be for the entire sum invested in the both of you.” His grin is infuriatingly toothy as the realization sinks in. “We think it’s a great way to foster cooperation and trust between trainees during the challenging pre-debut period.”

“T-that’s—” Heath jumps up from his seat. “That’s not fair,” he grits out, Shino and a dark van flashing before his eyes.

“It was fair the moment you signed the contract,” his manager shrugs.

“My decision should only affect me, not Shino!”

“Right, that was his name—great dancer, though honestly painfully average in voice and looks.” He shoots a look of mock pity at Heath. “Poor thing, looks like he won't ever debut! And from what I hear, he’s been trying so hard in his lessons.” The smug smile on his face resumes as Heath takes a seat again, hands shaking as he picks up the script. “It’d be a shame to keep that effort locked away forever, wouldn’t it?” He pats his shoulder, and Heath shudders at the touch. “Come now, Heath. Help your friend debut.”

“Hmm, why don’t we call it a day here?”

Cain stops the music, and both Heath and Shino collapse on the ground.

“You can do it,” Shino waves a sweaty arm from the floor in Heath’s direction. “You’re getting there.”

“You are, Heath,” Cain nods at him from above. “Just work some more on really letting those expressions run free—the wilder you can get, the better!” He lifts his shirt to wipe his face, and Heath catches Shino staring at the rippling abs underneath. “Anyways, I should head out soon, I gotta get to my other job.”

“What’s it this time?” Shino asks, patting his own comparatively flat stomach.

“I’ve been moonlighting as a security guard. Though,” Cain cocks his head. “Technically I might be moonlighting as a dancer now, considering the guard job has longer hours… Anyways,” he shakes his head and tosses them a paper bag of snacks. “Here!”

Shino narrowly catches the bag—flying wide by about a foot, Cain’s aim still terrible—and opens it. “Are these from Nero’s?”

“Oh, how’d you know?” Cain picks up another, bigger bag. “Ah, besides that, let me ask you something.” He hefts his duffel bag onto one shoulder, cradling the paper bag in the other like a fragile child. “Is it possible to go through life without ever having a breakfast sandwich? Not even once?”

“Um,” Heath looks to Shino, who is unable to reply with half a muffin already in his mouth.

“This kid at the other job—he had a breakfast sandwich for literally the first time the other day. Some nonsense about being raised to ‘eat clean’, can you believe it?” Cain shakes his head as his hand fumbles short of the door handle. “Poor kid… gotta make sure he eats up. He’s tiny.” He waves back, shoulder narrowly missing bumping into the doorframe. “Well, see you guys later!”

“Later,” Shino hollers back over the remains of his pastry.

Heath turns to their manager. “I think I’ll stay a little longer. I want to work on this while I still remember it.” I can’t hold him back, not now.

Shino turns. “I’ll stay with you.”

“It’s fine,” Heath protests, scrubbing his face with a towel. “You’ve already got it down, you don’t need the extra practice.”

“I’ll stay,” Shino insists, putting down the bag of snacks. “I want to.”

A retort rises up in Heath’s chest and dies at his throat, choked back by the earnest eyes Shino gives him. “Suit yourself,” he mutters into his towel, but offers a hand to pull him up. “But let’s get the floor wiped down first.”

Shino
[ ugh im dead ]
[ :( ]

Heath
[ pay attention ]

Shino
[ heath ]
[ im deaaaaaddddddd ]

Heath
[ you didn’t have to stay with me ]
[ I could’ve practiced on my own ]

Shino
[ :( ]
[ im hungry ]
[ heeeeath :( ]
[ hungry ]

As if on cue, Shino’s stomach grumbles at a volume impossible to ignore—it rips Faust’s attention away from the whiteboard, and Heath balks at the utter lack of guilt on Shino’s face.

“Am I going to have to confiscate your phone,” Faust tsks. “Or was that unholy noise actually from your stomach?”

“I’m a growing boy,” Shino shrugs, slouched over his desk.

“This is our last class of the day,” Heath chides him, trying to keep his voice gentle. “Just a little more, then we can go down to the cafe.”

“Why don’t we go now?”

Faust snaps his book shut, and Heath looks up at him in surprise. “Huh? Mr. Lavinia?”

“Like I’ve said, call me Faust.” His brows furrow as he packs his bag. “At any rate, it’s clear we won’t make any progress like this.” He quickly raises a hand at Heath’s face. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, Heath. I just see that the two of you have had busy schedules as of late, and it’s hard to concentrate on an empty stomach.”

“We’re going to Nero’s?” Shino stuffs his books into his bag with one sweep. “Nice.”

“Ah… are you sure?”

“A change of pace is good every now and then.” Faust finishes packing his own books, and Heath takes the cue to follow suit. “Besides,” he looks up at them. “I never said we were stopping.”

“Aw, what.” Shino frowns as he catches himself against the doorframe. “We still have to study?”

“Of course we do,” Faust says, opening his textbook on the cafe table—he ignores the look of abject disappointment on Shino’s face as he flips to the recent chapter.

“Well, aren’t you working hard,” Nero whistles, leaning over the booth to peek at their coursework. “You okay there, Shino?”

“No,” Shino deadpans, not bothering to sit up anymore. “My brain’s gonna explode.”

“Nothing is going to explode—” Yet again, Faust’s no-nonsense voice is overpowered by an unearthly growl from Shino’s stomach. “—though, I suppose we could feed that black hole first.” He closes his book again, conceding the point. “That is why we came.”

“Hmm,” Nero rubs his chin. “Actually, good timing—I was playing around with some new menu ideas, and I’ve got a bit too much left over. Mind taking it off my hands?”

“Really?” Faust and Heath both look up at him in concern—just as Shino revives and looks up at him with sparks in his eyes. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Hey, you’d be doing me a favor,” Nero laughs and waves a hand in front of his face. “Gimme a tick,” he says, walking off and coming back with three glasses. “Here’s some drinks to start with, I mixed it for the new seasonal menu.”

“Oh!” Heath blinks as he takes a sip. The crisp bubbles of the sparkling drink flood his mouth: it’s pleasantly sweet, but not overwhelming; delicate, but refreshing. “This is…”

“Delicious,” Faust says, staring at the garnished soda. “Is this… elderflower?” He looks up at Nero, who has since walked off and come back with three plates balanced on his hands and forearm.

“Bingo, Teach,” Nero nods and sets the plates down. “Got some nice syrup the other day, and thought it’d make a nice drink. You like this stuff, right?”

Shino slurps his way through the glass with frightening speed. “Nice,” he says, barely taking a breath before finishing the rest of the glass. “Got any more?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nero ruffles Shino’s hair. “Plenty more where that came from.”

“Oh!” Faust’s eyes widen at his plate. “I haven’t had gallettes this good in a while,” he says, pleasant surprise clear in the look he gives Nero—until, catching himself, he clears his throat and reaches for his glass. But the delight is evident in his face, and Heath watches in wonder as his stoic teacher takes more bites, the faint curve of a smile present with each mouthful.

“Really?” Nero rubs his nose. “Well, that’s good to hear.” He pats Faust’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. “Looks like I succeeded,” he says, hand lingering as he gives Faust the slightest of winks before walking off. “Holler if you need anything!”

Oh, Heath realizes, sitting in the leftover atmosphere between his teacher and his favorite cafe’s owner. I see. He hates himself for the small green twinge in his heart that follows.

“Heath,” Shino leans in with a heavy hand clamping down on his own shoulder. “You okay?”

“Huh?” Heath snaps out of it. “Oh... yeah. I’m fine,” he says, trying not to stare, pushing hands on shoulders out of his mind. Get it together, Heathcliff—you have more important things to worry about!

Get it together, Heath reminds himself again as he switches poses, crouching in the debris of the abandoned industrial building. This is ridiculous, even for you. The camera lights continue to flash rapidly in his face with no regard for his inner turmoil, and Heath keeps his eyes open through it all.

“Hmm, I think we can do more!” The photographer waves his hand vaguely in the air, gesturing at Heath to switch things up.

“The clothes and styling definitely fit with the concept and location,” the art director nods. “We should work with Collins again in the future. But that aside, Heath—can you get, hmm, more like this?” She taps the monitor, gesturing to some photos of Shino. “It’d be nice to match him more, your own unit member.”

“Okay,” Heath nods, making sure to check the monitoring screen before getting back in place. The back-and-forth goes on, Heath continuously walking across the set area to monitor his shots, then back, then across to various marked spots around the ruins for background changes.

“Hmm. Heath,” the photographer rubs his chin. “If you’re not feeling well, we should take a break and try again later.” He turns to the art director. “Emma, what do you think?”

“We have been putting a lot on him,” she nods sympathetically. “Maybe you could use some time—just because you’re more experienced than Shino doesn’t mean we can put so much more on you, after all.”

“I…” Heath starts, then falls silent at the veiled disappointment hidden behind soft smiles; he knows how to spot when he’s failed to meet expectations. “Okay,” he nods in apology. “I’ll get it together,” he says, mostly a warning to himself.

“Is this a good time?” Their manager comes up from behind. “The interviewer from ani*ani is here, so if it is, we can switch gears to that while the shoot staff takes a break.”

“Got it,” Heath agrees much too quickly; he winces at his own awkward outburst. Maybe a change of pace will help—something has to.

Thankfully, the interview is like any of the hundred other interviews they’ve done before—both of them have already been drilled through the main talking points to stick to, and the questions are basic enough that even their manager feels comfortable taking some much-needed calls outside. Heath finds the sameness almost comforting: tell them about the new concept, parrot back the brief they’ve been given, be friendly with one another in acts of fanservice.

He almost forgets that last part until Shino leans casually against his shoulder, his hair brushing Heath’s cheek. “Yeah, you could say we’re close,” he says, snapping Heath out of his autopilot response mode.

“How cute!” The interviewer squeals, and nudges her photographer to take a few candid shots. At the sight of the lens Heath carefully arranges his face, praying nothing strange shows up later; but he still makes a mental note to sit with their manager when it’s time to approve photos. “Fans—and I—love how close you two are! Especially,” she smiles at Shino. “The candids you post on Moonstargram, we can really see why your account has been nicknamed ‘The No.1 Heath Stan Account’!”

“Wait,” Heath nearly falls out of his chair. “What?”

Shino pulls out his phone. “Yeah. Cool, huh?” He smirks. “Heath’s beautiful, and the people deserve to know.”

Heath takes his phone and taps through his Stories. “Whoa—wait, when did you take this? And this?”

“Heath, hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to take a picture of this right now.”

“Sh-” Heath shoves Shino’s phone into his own pocket. “Shino, we’re in the middle of work!”

Shino pouts. “Fine.”

The interviewer laughs. “So cute! Ever since you debuted together, your account has been full of his photos.”

“Yeah," Shino nods. "I never really got to take much before—he was always busy with jobs, and I was still preparing as a trainee.”

“So how has that change been for you?”

“Awesome,” Shino lights up, his smile so genuine and happy that it breaks Heath’s heart. “I get to hang with Heath every day,” he brags, and the camera snaps it up in rapid succession.

“And Heath, how has it been for you?” The interviewer and Shino both look at him expectantly, clearly waiting for a similarly favorable, service-filled answer.

“...Great,” he forces through the tight squeeze in his chest. “It’s been just, great having him with me on stage.”

“You do make a fantastic combination! Your teamwork is amazing.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, not thinking about their performances at all—instead it’s the countless hours off-stage that come to mind, the long commutes and after-hour lessons and late-night rehearsals that he remembers first. His eyes drop to the rings on his fingers that match his partner’s. “I’m really glad, you know,” he starts, twisting a ring the color of red eyes. “That he finally got to debut. He really deserved to, he worked so hard.” He shakes his head and looks up again. “He’s really talented,” he admits, to himself more than anyone.

The camera goes off in his face at an even faster tempo, and Heath unconsciously leans back a little at the sudden proximity. “How lovely!” The interviewer places a hand to her chest and sighs dramatically. “What a beautiful friendship! It’s so nice to see you back in action, and in such a lovely unit, too! Especially considering how worried we all were ever since the accident.” She gives him a pitying look. “There were a lot of rumors floating around back then, and even questions of whether you’d come back from hiatus or not.” The pity transforms quickly to hunger. “Can you tell us more about that?”

The taboo pivot in questioning throws Heath for a loop—the memories come flooding back against his will, the weight of them washing down Heath’s back in cold waves. “I,” he starts, but is at a loss for how to continue; his eyes wander around the tent for their manager. “It was definitely, erm, not a decision to be made lightly,” he manages out, ingrained training flickering in the face of broken glass and blood on concrete.

“Uh-huh,” the interviewer leans in with her recorder, eyes never leaving his face.

“It,” Heath swallows, a thick lump forming in his throat. “It was a tumultuous time. Due to the, er, incident, we were short on personnel to handle the, er.” Heath forces himself to breathe. “Management work.”

The interviewer gives him a sympathetic look. “Oh, that’s right, we did hear about that in the papers. Our condolences,” she nods. Then she holds up the recorder to her mouth. “We’re hearing this for the first time, folks! The real story of that incident, straight from the mouth of Heath himself!” She extends the recorder out again. “Please, tell us more about that time, and how it affected you—this is where you can come clean about it all!”

Come clean? Heath freezes. What is there to come clean about? “I—”

“—Excuse me!” Their manager steps in, rushing to Heath’s side—he extends a protective hand out to divide the two of them from the interviewer. “Terribly sorry, but the shoot staff has finished setting up and is ready for them again.” He bows and extends a hand to the tent entrance. “I think we’ve run out of time for interviewing today, since we still have a lot to shoot—but thank you very much for coming out here! And please remember to send us the photos you plan to use so we can approve them from our end.”

“Ah,” the interviewer sighs and accepts her loss. “Understood,” she says, putting the recorder away. “Thank you for your time!”

“Thank you for your time,” Heath dumbly replies in turn, work experience kicking in as he fights to keep his hand from shaking. Get a grip, he scolds himself. ’Keep your wits about you’, remember? You are a professional, and you still have work to do.

“Always keep your wits about you.”

Heathcliff nods under the gentle hand on his head as his father’s soothing voice continues.

“The Blanchetts have always conducted business in high society, so you will most certainly learn once you’re older. But it never hurts,” his father smiles down at him. “To practice early.”

“What does it mean to ‘keep my wits about me’, Father?” Heathcliff looks up at him from his lap, and his father laughs.

“I suppose I should have started with that!” His hand smooths his hair, and Heathcliff smiles under the warmth of it. “It means to keep a level mind, and to not be swayed by your emotions; to never lose sight of who you are and what you need to do.”

“Lose sight?”

“You’re a smart boy, Heathcliff—keep the cogs in that brain of yours turning, and you’ll certainly be fine.”

Heathcliff imagines little clockwork wheels in his head, and giggles at the picture.

“Always keep your wits about you,” his teacher—no, now manager—says, and Heathcliff freezes under the ice in his voice.

“This industry is ruthless, cutthroat, certainly no place for a child.” His manager rises from the piano and starts to pace. “You’re fortunate to have me guide you, so let me impart on you this lesson.” He stands at the window, back to Heathcliff. “Keep your wits about you—don’t let your emotions show, don’t betray even a sliver of your weakness to others. There are no allies in this industry.”

Heathcliff remains where he stands by the piano, not daring to sit or lean despite the cold turn of his teacher’s back.

“Reveal yourself to anyone, and the media will have a field day with you,” he mutters in disgust. “So you will be a perfect technician, performing with clockwork precision at all times.” He turns then, and Heathcliff jumps in his skin. “Am I clear, Heath?”

“Yes, sir,” Heath meekly nods, and straightens his posture as his manager approaches the piano.

“Heath,” Shino yells after him—Heath blocks it out, focused on making his way to the shoot location. “Heath!”

“There’s still lots to shoot,” he calls back, picking up the pace and not sparing a single look back.

“Wait,” Shino picks his way through the debris and holes in the path, the abandoned ruins still littered beyond the dressed staging areas. “I’ll come with you!”

“You don’t need to," his voice snaps back harsher than intended; he winces internally at it. “You’ve already wrapped.”

“I’ll come with you,” Shino repeats, his voice already closing in. Almost immediately after comes the wrap of his calloused fingers around his wrist, and Heath jumps at the touch.

“Why?” Heath stops, not wanting to look back. “You got your OK, you don’t have to make the effort to come with me.”

“Heath, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just want to get to work.”

“No, something’s definitely wrong.” Shino doesn’t let Heath escape, following him every time he tries to turn. “It was the interview earlier, wasn’t it?”

It’s more than that, he wants to yell back. It’s me, it’s my inability to do my job, I can’t hold it together, I can’t do anything, and you’re there, and it’s all my fault—

“You wouldn’t understand,” Heath yanks away, and instantly regrets it—he keeps his eyes down and away, not wanting to see the obvious hurt on Shino’s face.

“What—”

“—Just,” he clenches his hands again, feeling the jewelry dig into his skin. “Just leave me alone for a bit.” He hurries off in the opposite direction, not looking where he steps. “Please.”

“Wait, Heath!” Shino’s voice takes on an edge of panic as Heath walks away. “Watch out, that area’s marked off—”

Heath doesn’t catch the rest of his warning as suddenly, the ground gives way underneath him—the unsteady path crumbles at his feet, finally collapsing under the pressure after years of neglect. By the time his brain catches up to what’s happening he’s already plummeting down, and the last thing he sees is Shino’s outstretched arm, high and unreachable above him as he falls.

The first thing he sees, through his hazy half-consciousness, is the small prick of color floating above him in the dim light. The red light blinks slowly at him, joined by a faint yellow—are they traffic lights? But they’re so close.

Pain blossoms in his side next, sharp stabs spreading throughout his body from the point of impact. His vision flickers through the waves, and he can barely make out the scene in front of him: broken glass, scrap metal, unconscious bodies. Bodies? His mind wonders through the fog of pain and shock. A dark shadow pools beyond him, and he can hear the screams and sirens and—

—What’s that noise, he wonders. A familiar melody plays from his pocket—oh, it’s Shino’s favorite song—and he thinks he sees the shape of someone, an unfamiliar silhouette just beyond him in the shadows. Wait, his mind slows; this person was never at the accident. Accident? The sirens are suddenly nowhere to be heard, the dark van and body nowhere to be seen.

Where am I? he struggles, overwhelmed by the blur of memories. His consciousness slips away in the flood—leaving him lying in the rubble, deaf to the footsteps around him.

“Get away from him,” comes a familiar voice—Heath can’t muster the energy to move, much less open his eyes. This might all be a dream, for how weightless and numb he feels.

“Oh?” A stranger’s voice comes from above him. “Rude,” the voice smiles. “I was just looking.”

Familiar arms wrap around him. “Was it you earlier, on my phone?”

“I went through the trouble of picking up, and this is the thanks I get.” The catlike voice sours. “Is that any way to treat your savior?” He can hear the malice in his voice. “I might just change my mind.”

Protective arms pull him closer. “Fine. Thanks. But your work here is done.”

“Ugh, you actually thanked me—now that’s just annoying.” The stranger gives a little huff. “You Eastern nerds are so serious, it’s gross.” Something heavy and solid thumps on the ground. “Maybe I’ll do something about it,” the voice hums.

“I can report you,” he says. “I’ll go live right now and show your face. Or we can end this here, keep this between you and me.”

“Oh?” The voice takes on a sharp edge. “Little brat,” he tsks; Heath feels the rustle of fabric draping over him. “Fine—but don’t you dare leak my info, or who knows what I might do.”

“How are you feeling?”

Heath manages to sit up in bed as Shino walks in with a tray. “Fine,” he says, response automatic through the still-lingering fog of sleep.

Shino sets the tray down on the nearby table. “I’m glad you could come home to rest,” he says, uncovering the steaming bowl. “It’s a good thing there weren’t any major injuries.”

“Yeah,” Heath nods helplessly. “I feel terrible, though—the shoot got pushed because of me, I’ve really got to apologize to the staff. Not to mention the rest of the promotion schedule… I can’t imagine how much this is going to affect it all.”

“You can worry about that stuff later,” Shino says, picking up a spoon to feed Heath. “Just focus on getting better.”

Heath flushes in the face of Shino’s sincerity, just as his memory reminds him of the last words he said to him—and the flush turns into red-hot shame. “Shino...”

“Yeah?”

“I owe you an apology,” he breathes out, hands twisting in his blanket.

“For what,” Shino says, in that matter-of-fact way of his. He scoops up a spoonful of porridge and holds it up to Heath’s mouth. “Here, say aah.”

“...Shino,” Heath pushes the spoon aside—gently. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Shino’s hand maintains its grip on the spoon. “You gotta eat to recover.”

“No, I mean,” Heath rubs his eyes. “Just listen to me.” When he feels Shino’s eyes on him again, he takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry… for what I said earlier. When I said that—that you wouldn’t understand.” The memory of his expression alone sends a stab through his chest, and Heath squeezes his eyes shut. “That was harsh of me. I went too far.”

“Tell me, then.” Shino puts the bowl aside and shifts closer. “I’ll listen. I’ll understand.”

“No, it’s…” Heath shakes his head. “It’s complicated.” He pauses, then adds. “I don’t know how to explain it, to be honest.”

“Then I’ll wait.” Shino leans in from below to meet Heath’s eyes. “Until you figure it out. And then I’ll listen.”

“No—I mean, I.” He scrubs his face with his hands in frustration. “I don’t know how to figure it out, there’s just a lot, and.” He finally meets Shino face-to-face, and the blunt impact of it drives it home: how long has it been since they’ve sat like this? Without the makeup and the cameras and the constant idol facade? Between the constant shoots and rehearsals and after-hour lessons? Despite it all Shino faces Heath with absolutely nothing held against him, no grudge or annoyance or resentment at all—and Heath wishes he would. It’d be easier if he did. “I don’t get it. Why go so far? Why would you do so much for me?”

Shino blinks. “Because it’s you?” He frowns. “Wait, now I don’t get it. I thought I told you before, didn’t I? That you’re my reason.”

Heath feels something dangerously fluttery in his chest, and takes a deep breath to suppress it. “...I don’t think you realize how that makes you sound,” he mutters through his teeth. “Also, that’s not an answer.”

“Of course it is,” Shino replies without missing a beat. “I decided I’d do anything for you, ever since we were kids. So,” he gestures, imitating Faust when he presents a solution. “There it is. You, the reason.”

“But why?” Heath is ready to tear his hair out from the back-and-forth. “Why decide that?” His heart hammers in his chest. “Do—do you realize what this sounds like?” Heath clutches his head. “It, it almost makes it sound like… like you l-l—”

“Love you?” Shino goes for the bowl and spoon again. “Yeah, that checks. Now are you gonna eat or not?”

Forget food, or the bandage still wrapped around his waist—Heath clutches the blankets and snaps them up in a wild panic, not noticing how it knocks Shino from where he perches. He flips them over his head and brings them down in a rush to hide from too-calm eyes, burrowing deep into the layers to block it all out; he gathers several pillows into a pile over his head for good measure.

“Heath,” he hears through the muffled layers—he feels a soft prod around his shoulder. “It’s gonna get cold.”

Wait, Heath’s head spins. Wait, wait, wait wait wait waitwaitwait. The air in his little cocoon gets uncomfortably stuffy but his body remains curled tight, baking in the heat radiating from his face.

“Heath,” Shino continues. “Your parents told me to make sure you eat, so you better.” There’s a pause for a while, the awkward silence stretching between them—until he’s hit by cool, fresh air in his face, world tumbling as Shino yanks everything apart to forcibly drag him out of his blanket shell. “I’m gonna take care of you if it’s the last thing I do,” he declares, fluffy blanket tight in his grip, words laden with entirely too much determination.

Heath throws his hands up against the sudden exposure. “No!”

“You need to eat or you won’t recover!”

“That’s not important right now!” Heath tugs a blanket out of Shino’s grip, clutching one end to his chest. “Wh- I mean- how could you say that? Like nothing? With no warning? And how could you say it first?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Shino tsks, irritation starting to form on his face as he tugs the other end of the blanket—until he abruptly drops it, sending Heath tumbling backwards. “Wait. Did you say, ‘say it first’?”

The implication hits Heath like a truck; as the realization spreads over them both, he takes the relinquished blanket and drapes it over his face like a shroud. It’s over. My life is over. I’ve obviously died back there, or hit my head and am comatose.

Reality begs to differ as Shino yanks it off again. “Heath,” he says, not realizing the position they’re in as he climbs over Heath to pull it away. “I take it back. You can say it first.” Earnest puppy eyes stare down as his arms trap him in on both sides; Heath buries his face in his hands at the compromising pose. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“No,” Heath rolls to his side and curls up. “Stop. I’m dead. This is a dream.”

“You’re not dead, and this isn’t a dream.” Shino lies down next to him to pry his hands away.

Heath doesn't—can't—resist the warm calloused fingers over his. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters. “Do you have any idea, of just how much I went through—” he looks at Shino’s eyes, and then remembers the last few minutes of circular logic. “—Never mind,” he breathes. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He shuts his eyes.

“Were you stressed,” Shino blinks. “Because of—” he waves their hands between them. “—this?” He clicks his tongue again. “Heath. You gotta tell me these things. We could’ve saved you a lot of trouble.”

“I mean, no, that’s not the whole story, I mean—” His brain shuts down. “Now I’m being scolded, and by Shino of all people.” Heath turns his face to bury it into the mattress. “Oh my god. I’m so lame.”

“No, you’re the coolest in the world.” Shino squeezes their still-linked hands and pulls them up. “I say so.”

“Can you really say that,” Heath lets himself be hauled up. “Seeing me like this?” He thinks about the past few weeks. “And even though I’ve been seriously pathetic at work?”

“You? Pathetic, at work?” Shino frowns. “Who told you that?”

“No one, really,” Heath gives a halfhearted shrug. “But they don’t need to, I can tell I’ve been letting the staff down lately. And not to mention I haven’t been keeping up with the concept like you have, you’ve been nailing it every time—”

“—You think so?” The puppy eyes return. “I’m doing well?”

“Of course you are.” It’s Heath’s turn to be exasperated. “This concept was practically made for you. Haven’t you heard all the staff members singing your praises?”

“Ah, well, that’s cool, too. But,” Shino looks straight into his eyes, the news lighting up his face. “It means way more coming from you.”

Heath’s heart fills—with something, maybe several things.

“Anyways,” Shino barrels on, oblivious to Heath’s turmoil. “I really don’t get why you think you’re bad at work. I mean, I can say this as your number one fan, having seen all your stuff so far.” He smirks at the obvious change in Heath’s face. “But you just keep getting better and better. I can guarantee that.”

“...I don’t know where that confidence comes from.” Heath shuts his eyes.

“You, duh.”

Heath flushes again—he’s really going to die at this rate, if he hasn’t already. “Am I going to be your answer to everything?”

“Yeah? I mean, you already kinda are?” Shino cocks his head. “Not to mention, you’re the best example to learn from.”

“That can’t be,” Heath frowns in an incredibly futile effort to hide his embarrassment, dumbfounded by the threat of hot tears rising to his eyes. “Your dance skills are way above mine.”

“Yeah, maybe. But remember what Cain said? You don’t need it, because of all your other skills.”

“Other skills?" He clenches his hands. "What other skills?”

Rough hands sandwich Heath’s face and yank him in, and he finds himself bearing the brunt of Shino’s full irritation. “Heath,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Putting yourself down like that. You’re amazing!” He squeezes Heath’s cheeks together. “Just look at this face,” he leans in, way too close for comfort, giving Heath’s head a little shake for emphasis. “If you keep putting down this beautiful face I love, what does that make me?”

“I-” Heath jerks away, head spinning. “I don’t know! Maybe get better taste?!”

“My taste is already the best,” Shino snaps back. “Because you’re the best!” As if to prove his point, he yanks Heath in by his face to crush their mouths together.

The first thing Heath recognizes, over the initial ten seconds of shock—it might have been a minute or an hour, actually, he’s in no state to count—is that it’s messy. He’s messy. It’s a bit like having an overeager dog in your face, Heath thinks, to the rapid pounding of his heart as chapped lips devour his with enthusiasm and little else. The momentum sends them both toppling onto the blankets piled around them, and when Heath’s mouth opens from the impact Shino takes the chance to clumsily shove his tongue in.

“—What,” Heath gasps out when they break apart, his dizzy brain unable to catch up. “What was that?”

“A kiss?” Shino says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“T-that came out of nowhere—we were having a moment here—and you… you!”

“What,” he stares back, no trace of guilt in that smug face. “You’re cute when you cry.”

“You’re teasing me,” Heath fumes. “That’s what this is! You’re totally doing that thing you used to do when we were kids, where you’d tell me stories that made me cry, and this is one of those!”

“No, I really do love you. Want me to prove it?” Shino sits up to work at the collar of his shirt, and Heath belatedly recognizes the motions to undo his buttons.

“No!” Heath’s hands fly up to stop Shino’s in their tracks, holding them tight before they can progress any further. How’d he undo them so quickly? Steam pours out of his ears as he tugs his hands away to settle them safely in the empty space between them. “No, that’s okay! This is fine,” he gives them a soft pat. “This is enough, for now.”

“Fine.” Shino has the gall to look disappointed, but he stays in place. “But seriously, you gotta stop putting yourself down like that. There’s a reason you get more vocal lines and camera time, y’know? If it were anyone else I wouldn’t accept it, but I do because it’s you—you’re seriously cool.”

“Well, maybe don’t just accept it… you’re more than capable, too.”

“Oh, you bet I will.” Shino butts his forehead with his own. “Once I train my voice, and get cooler, and taller, it’s over for you all. So Heath,” he squeezes his hands. “Keep going. Don’t you dare stop. One day I’ll become a top idol, right next to you, and show you off to the world—instead of right now, where I’m riding on your name. Get ready for the day we stand at the top together, okay?” He breaks into a wolfish grin. “Man, we’re gonna be such a power couple.”

“P-power—” Heath imagines the scandalous headlines and splutters. “Power couple?!”

“Thanks again for modeling, Heath,” Chloe sighs happily over the collection of photos in his camera roll. “All of these shots turned out amazing, I can’t pick what to post!” He giggles. “Maybe I’ll just upload ‘em all! You seriously look fantastic in these, like, I know you’re a professional and all but there’s something about your expressions this time that’s so nice!” He sighs again. “It was great seeing you in a dark concept and all last time, but now I want to put you in even more outfits.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Heath smiles back across the table. “It’s the least I could do, especially after I went and ruined the clothes you made.” He ducks his head in apology. “Sorry for that time, by the way. They turned out so nice, so it’s really a shame.”

Chloe waves his hands in the air. “No, no! It’s okay, it was an accident, totally not your fault! I’m just glad you’re okay now. And besides,” he gives him a confident grin. “Lucky for you, you’re friends with an amazing tailor who can fix things!” He winks. “That’s me, by the way.”

Relief pours over Heath’s heart at Chloe’s positivity. “Thanks, Chloe.”

“Aw,” Chloe waves a hand in front of his face. “For what?”

Heath shrugs and smiles. “Just, you know. Everything.”

“Aw, stop it.” Chloe puts his phone down. “But seriously, I’m glad you recovered—you look much better today.” He rests his head on his hands and leans in with a smile. “Though I’m kind of curious… did something good happen?”

Heath barely manages to keep himself from dropping his spoon. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, this might sound weird… but you know how we finally wrapped that Panther concept shoot the other day?” Chloe takes a bite of his parfait. “You looked a million times better. Like, definitely more into it, you were really something else! The both of you, actually. So I thought something good must have happened.”

Heath feels the onset of a flush creeping into his ears, followed by the flash of Shino’s face in his mind. “Nothing much,” he mutters into his own parfait. “It’s probably the break I took, I got to sleep in a bit.”

“Ah,” Chloe nods and accepts it with a sly smile. “Sleep is great for your skin and all.” He puts a finger to his chin. “And you do seem more relaxed lately.”

“Do I?” Heath blinks. Is it that obvious? He rubs the back of his neck. “Well… to tell you the truth, I have been getting additional support.” He shakes his head. “There was a lot going on after the whole accident. It’s a little embarrassing to admit it, though, that I couldn’t handle it all.” He shakes his hands in front of him as Chloe starts to give him a soft, sad look. “It’s okay, I’m okay now!” He looks down at the ring he kept, a simple piece with a red stone. “It’s still a work in progress, but I am getting better adjusted to being in a unit—as opposed to being a solo act.” He nods. “Things are looking up!”

“Well, whatever the case, let’s take it easy for the rest of the day!” Chloe takes his hands and holds them tight. “Eat up, my treat! This is my thanks to you, for modeling my collection for me.”

“I just hope it helps,” he smiles back sheepishly.

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe picks up his phone and taps to his profile page. “Look at my follower count—it went up this much after you tagged me in a single Story. Do not underestimate your star power, Heath.”

“Oh,” Heath blinks. “That’s a good thing, right? Sorry, I’m honestly clueless when it comes to social media.”

Chloe laughs. “It’s good, definitely good! Anyways.” He takes a snap of the cafe interior. “Do you come here often? I’m digging the vibe of this place, I love how old-school it is! It’s like, kinda Northern industrial-chic?” He points to a sign near the entrance. “That retro signboard, for example! It looks like the real deal. I wonder where he found it?”

As soon as he points, the scarred man from the other day walks in. “Nero,” he calls out. “Today’s the day, bud! We’re gonna talk, and you’re gonna—”

“—Do absolutely jack shit, that’s what.” In a split second Nero is at the door, barring him from entering with a clenched fist across the doorway—full of something that he then immediately throws in the stranger’s face.

“Achoo!” The stranger sneezes at the first contact, loud and booming; as his face pales in real, abject horror at the noise, Heath's memory helpfully flashes back to the mysterious repelling qualities of Nero’s pepper mill. But he doesn't get much more time to consider it as the settling cloud of pepper drives the stranger further into a sneezing fit, over and over where he stands—until the collar around his neck starts beeping, noise ringing out in time to a newly-activated red light. “No. No! Fuck! I thought I had it this time!” He smacks at the blinking light, but it doesn’t stop the ominous beeping.

“Y’know, this place ain’t too far from a station.” Nero tsks in the face of the scarred man’s panic. “Be a real shame if they found you violating your parole, again. Who knows where they’ll send you packing this time?”

“You—goddammit!” He freezes with his hands around his own neck, a futile effort to mask the collar. "Fucking piece of shit—"

“Run,” Nero points at the door. “Now.”

“This ain’t over,” the scarred man growls, just before running out. “This ain’t over, you hear me!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Nero hollers back. “That’s what you always say!”

Huh, Heath thinks, watching it all unfold from the side. I guess everyone’s got something going on.