Work Text:
The first thing Akaashi does when he walks into the conference room is locate the wall clock. He sits in the seat directly across from it as the twins’ security files in behind him. This specific room is far from comforting, with stale black swivel chairs surrounding a single wooden tabletop and shiny records framed along beige walls, so Akaashi realized long ago that watching the second hand slowly take its trip around the clock is the most entertaining thing he can do. After being herded into meetings in this same room for years, things like having staring contests with clocks help him make it through with as much of his sanity still intact as possible.
The sun is still high enough in the sky that it lights the room through the floor to ceiling windows. From this high up - the 11th or 12th or 13th floor, Akaashi can’t remember - Akaashi could press his nose to the glass and watch cars speed along the freeway, could watch his coworkers and other company clients get escorted into and out of the building like groups of ants. Looking out the windows is almost too distracting, though, usually reminds him of the beautiful day he could be enjoying if he wasn’t getting paid to talk about other grown men on the internet, so he keeps his eyes focused on the clock ahead instead of letting them drift to the windows next to him.
He’s already counted three trips around the clock when his boss saunters through the door and slaps a magazine down on the wood table.
The tabloid is a trashy one and is made by a company that Akaashi is all too familiar with since it’s made most of its money the past three years sensationalizing the lives of the men sitting next to him. This particular cover features a blonde man crossing the street, his hand interlaced with the lead singer of the Jackals. Out of the corner of his eye Akaashi sees Miya Atsumu slump further in his seat and bring his company hoodie up to cover his mouth.
“I was really careful.” Atsumu tries to explain. It sounds muffled behind the fabric. “We both were. We didn’t say-”
The head of their management team, a balding, slumped excuse of a man, cringes and raises a hand. “Save it. It doesn’t matter how careful you were. Clearly ,” The man digs a finger into the magazine cover until the waxy paper squeaks and pushes it towards Atsumu, “you weren’t careful enough.”
Atsumu pulls the strings of his hoodie tight and says nothing.
Akaashi tunes the man out as he continues his speech about secrecy and image . It’s the same thing the twins hear every time they (read: Atsumu) slip up, and Akaashi’s sure they could recite it themselves at this point. He glances across the table to see Osamu looking bored as usual. They make eye contact and Osamu glares at him before looking away. Akaashi rolls his eyes, accustomed to this weird, passive aggressive animosity from the quieter twin, and twirls his tablet stylus between his fingers to keep himself from throwing it like a dart.
Akaashi doesn’t realize the conference room has fallen silent until he can hear the tell tale typing of a phone keyboard.
“Osamu.” the head of management grunts as he types, glancing over at the twin that is barely keeping his eyes open. Osamu’s head rolls along the back of his seat towards the man standing at the head of the table.
“That’s me.”
“Do you have a lucky woman in your life?”
Osamu raises an unimpressed eyebrow and the man huffs. “Do you have a lucky someone in your life?”
“If yer asking if I’m gonna pull the same dumbass move this idiot did, it’s not happening.” Osamu says. He barely flinches when Atsumu kicks him under the table.
“That’s exactly why I’m asking, but for a different reason.” the man pauses in his typing and glances at Akaashi. Unfortunately for Akaashi, he knows exactly what this man is thinking.
“Sir, all that would do is garner bad press-”
“Please, all press is good press. Especially when we have an album dropping in three weeks.”
“I think there’s a better way than stooping to-”
“Oh, lighten up, Akaashi-san. We’re not stooping . We’re just...playing the game that the tabloids want. If they want a story,” the man motions at the twins, “we can give them a story.”
“Is someone gonna tell us what’s going on?” Osamu says, raising an eyebrow at Akaashi.
“He wants you to go public with a...romantic interest.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You haven’t even heard us out, Osamu.” the man laughs.
“Hate to ruin whatever plan ya’ve got cooking up, but I don’t even have a ‘romantic interest.’ I’m too busy doing my job that I barely have time to see my family, much less swipe through Tinder.”
“That didn’t seem to stop your brother.” The man points out.
“Well I’m not my brother. And I’m not gonna pretend to date a random person just because ya want me to.”
There’s a pause in the conversation where Akaashi desperately hopes that the man will let the idea go. It’s not a good enough idea worth fighting for, especially when the person you have to fight is one as stubborn as Miya Osamu.
"Why not you two?" The man suggests, waving his phone between Akaashi and Osamu. He tosses his phone between his hands and it makes Akaashi's eye twitch. " He’s not a stranger, and you'd look cute together."
"You don't have enough money in your budget to make me agree to that." Akaashi says immediately.
Osamu scoffs. "It's not like yer the easiest person to be around."
Akaashi feels his eye twitch again. His fingers itch to grab the 2 weeks notice sitting in the back of his portfolio and slap it on the table.
“You’re acting like I’m asking you to shoot a porno together.” The man laughs. “Just a couple of pictures we can leak here and there, a couple dates that were…‘ discovered’ by the paparazzi, and boom. Best selling album. And your brother can keep seeing that Sakusa kid, too. It all works out.”
“I can?” Atsumu says hopefully. Osamu turns to glare at him until he shrinks back into his seat with a pout.
“With all due respect, sir, our music is good enough to earn sales and break records without any of this.”
Akaashi finds himself agreeing with Osamu for the first time since he’s worked with him. He hopes it’s the last. “And this plan could completely backfire. We should just be pushing the music on socials, maybe have the video team make a few more teasers that fans can-”
“Oh, this wasn’t a suggestion. I’ll have my team draft up a detailed plan of action for what I expect from the three of you. It’ll be in your inboxes by the end of the day.” the man checks the time on his phone before finally pocketing it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting, and you two have rehearsals.”
The rest of the room is shocked into silence as the management team files out. Akaashi can feel his assistant looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t bother trying to explain what just happened. He sighs, hoping that, with most plans this management team thinks up on the spot, it’ll be forgotten by the end of the week, and they can refocus on simply pushing The Miyas’ new album the way they had planned to.
“I’m not doing this with ya.” Osamu hisses.
“Well don’t think I’d be particularly over the moon about it, Miya-san.”
“I can’t believe he’d even suggest something like this. Yer the last person I’d ever think of being with, even if it was just pretend. It’s just so-”
“Good thing the feeling’s mutual. Are you going to actually go to rehearsal now or shall I tell your choreographers that you’re too busy throwing a tantrum to do your job?”
Osamu glares. Atsumu pulls his sweatshirt strings tighter to stifle a laugh.
Osamu pulls his brother by the back of his sweatshirt hood out of the conference room, and Akaashi reluctantly follows.
~~~
The detailed itinerary of when, where, and how Akaashi and Osamu will act like a couple over the next few months is in Akaashi’s inbox before the end of the rehearsal. It’s all trivial things; dates and coincidental run-ins with paparazzi and photo evidence that someone with half a critical eye will see right through, but it’s all there sitting on Akaashi’s laptop and making him regret every choice he’s made that’s led him to this point.
He closes his laptop silently and slips it into his bag. Maybe he can sneak out of the studio when people aren’t looking and work from home for a few days until everyone - including himself, hopefully - forgets about this.
He’s made it halfway across the Miyas’ practice studio when Osamu stops him.
“Not so fast.” He pants, wiping his face with the branded towel around his neck. One of the company’s assistants holds his phone up to his face, and he scans the screen before glaring at Akaashi. “I’m guessing yer high-tailing it because of this email I just got.”
Akaashi sighs. No use lying once he’s caught. “Yes. It’s not a good idea, especially with the album release just a few weeks away. I want to...lay low until then, and hopefully this idea will go away as well.”
“But it says this plan is effective immediately.”
Akaashi sighs. “I know.”
“We’re supposed to take a picture together today.”
“I’m aware , Miya-san. Thank you. ”
Osamu pauses. He looks Akaashi up and down and takes his phone from the assistant. “So yer gonna get us both in trouble just because ya don’t wanna do something?”
The way Osamu squares his shoulders and raises his eyebrow is almost challenging, and Akaashi feels his hackles rise despite knowing that’s exactly what Osamu wants.
“There’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed in professional settings. I believe this is toeing uncomfortably close to it.”
“So yer job is making ya uncomfortable , Akaashi-san?”
“It doesn’t-”
“Ya wouldn’t wanna get us in trouble with the boss just cuz yer scared of doing yer job , would ya?”
“I’m not scared -”
“So take a pic.” Osamu says simply. “What’s the harm in a single picture, if it doesn't make ya as uncomfortable as ya say?”
Akaashi knows when he’s been backed into a corner. The rest of the staff in the studio try to busy themselves to not make their eavesdropping so obvious, but now the room’s silent as Osamu holds his phone between them. Akaashi can even feel Atsumu’s eyes on him through the floor length mirror next to him.
Akaashi sighs and lets his bag slide off of his shoulder. “Fine. One picture. And it’s not being posted before I talk to management about this whole thing.”
Osamu raises his hands in concession. The challenge hasn’t left his eyes. “One picture.”
Akaashi feels like he’s being circled by a hawk as Osamu makes his way around him. He stops behind Akaashi, and in the practice room mirror Akaashi can see that he’s almost an entire head shorter than the man behind him.
Osamu hooks his chin on his shoulder and Akaashi has to stop himself from flinching away. He smells like sweat and the energy drinks that are always stocked in the studio fridge and Akaashi wonders if he can get through this while simultaneously holding his breath the entire time.
Osamu brings an arm around Akaashi’s body and points his phone toward the mirror. “Try not to look too constipated.” He mumbles. Akaashi feels the words rumble through Osamu’s chest as he says them.
“It’s a hard look to shake around you, my apologies.” Akaashi hisses. Osamu grunts.
“Well, do yer best , shorty. I can’t stay bent down like this forever.”
Akaashi’s mouth drops open just as the camera shutter echoes in the room.
“Did you just call me short?!”
Osamu snorts. “Got a good picture from it, too.”
Akaashi huffs and resists the urge to stomp his feet. “I am a perfectly normal height for a man-”
“Sure, Kaashi.”
“And just because you’re built like a beanstalk doesn’t mean you can just walk around -”
“Mhhm, sure.”
“And- and insult people just because you feel like it!”
“That was cute.” Osamu smirks and makes a show of locking and handing his phone back to an assistant. “But if ya’d excuse my brother and I, we have a rehearsal to get back to.”
Akaashi looks around, sees everyone whip their heads away as if they weren’t just watching the scene unfolding in front of them, and fixes his bag back onto his shoulder.
He figures he’s earned a break for the rest of the day.
~~~
The worst thing about album release parties, in Akaashi’s opinion, is the dramatics of it all. The nightclub that was reserved months in advance and filled with some of the biggest names in the Japanese music scene, the paparazzi clamoring against the frosted glass for a glimpse into the event, the swanky executives laughing at things they don’t find funny just to hopefully gain favor from each other.
Akaashi’s never understood it and never plans to. He’s thankful that at least his job isn’t influenced by how much he sticks his neck out at things like this. At this point in the night, he’d usually find an empty corner of the club to nurse a flute of champagne in as he preps for work the next day.
Tonight, though, Akaashi’s got an email from management exclaiming what a realistic and convincing photo he and Osamu took burning a hole in his pocket, so he knows that there’s a booth at the club with his name on it.
A booth, he realizes, that is currently being occupied by his newfound partner in crime.
“I’m surprised ya haven’t scurried off to a corner somewhere yet.” Osamu says once Akaashi’s close enough to hear him over the music.
“You and I both know I’m over here for one reason and one reason only.” Akaashi moves to sit across from Osamu but the man quickly slides off the booth bench and offers the inside corner to him. Akaashi sighs and slides in without a word.
“And here I thought ya were just coming over here to congratulate me on another album well done.”
“Well I guess that’s what happens when you try to make your brain think. You come up with the most outlandish things.”
Akaashi can’t pretend it’s not a good album. It’s sweet but mature, still hopeful for things like love and finding purpose but without most of the naivety that made their first couple of albums popular with younger audiences and chain retail stores. The new songs repeat over the club’s sound system, and Akaashi doesn’t know if he finds it endearing or irritating to watch Osamu nod along to his own voice.
Osamu turns to face him in the booth and pouts. “You wound me , Kaashi.”
Akaashi rolls his eyes but relents. “It’s a good album, Miya-san.”
A slow smirk spreads across Osamu’s face. He props his elbow on the table and places his chin in his hand. “Isn’t it?”
“I’m never complimenting you again.” is Akaashi’s immediate response. Osamu snorts and knocks his knee against Akaashi’s.
“Yer gonna have to get used to it if we’re really gonna do this.” Osamu gestures between them and Akaashi raises an eyebrow.
“I thought I was ‘the last person you’d ever think of being with’?”
Osamu shrugs, knocks his knee against Akaashi’s again. From this close Akaashi can smell the champagne on his breath and he wrinkles his nose.
“Yeah, but I realized I like annoying ya more than I hate this pretend relationship shit. And since this annoys ya soo much,” Osamu smiles and glances around at the other people in the club, “then I guess I’d better take advantage.”
“You don’t need a special opportunity to annoy me. Being yourself is sufficient.”
“Again, ouch .”
“You do realize that you’ll have to do more than annoy me in public in order to sell this, right?”
Osamu leans forward, chin still propped in his hand, and rolls his eyes. “Contrary to popular belief, I know how a relationship works. And this is yer chance to learn what it’s like dating thee Miya Osamu.”
Akaashi grimaces and wishes he had at least brought a drink with him before resigning himself to this. “Ah, yes. Every adult man’s dream: dating a man that gets paid to pretend to be in love with millions of people world wide.”
“Ya sound like a jealous boyfriend already. Yer gonna be a natural.”
“That’s not-”
Before Akaashi can finish, Osamu leans forward and brushes a thumb across his cheek and effectively stuns him into silence. Osamu’s own cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and his temples are sweaty from the heat of the room, but he still has this glow about him, a subtle confidence that Akaashi always found himself admiring.
“What are you doing?” Akaashi whispers. His words are barely audible to himself over the music, but Osamu hums and scans his face as his finger continues down his cheek.
“People were looking. I bet some of them are tryna take pictures. We hafta start this thing sooner or later, yeah?”
Akaashi nods slightly and leans into his hand. Osamu smiles before poking his cheek and pulling away.
“Knew ya’d be a natural.”
Akaashi doesn’t know what he means by that. He supposes he’s not completely opposed to sticking around longer to find out.
~~~
“I’m not doing this relationship thing.” is the first thing Akaashi says when The Miyas’ head of management answers the phone. The man on the other end laughs, and Osamu looks at him curiously from the other side of the van.
“What are you saying all of a sudden, Akaashi-san?”
“I’m saying that I’m not doing this relationship thing.” Akaashi can still feel Osamu staring and refuses to meet his eyes. “I-it’s weird, and it makes me uncomfortable. Those pictures from last night-”
“Those pictures are wonderful !” The man enthuses. They’re burned in Akaashi’s mind no matter how hard he tries to forget; blurry, zoomed in pics of him pressed against the back of a booth with Osamu leaning into his space. The club lighting tints everything a purpley-blue, but you can still tell that’s him cozied up with the younger member of the biggest music duo in Japan. The numbers those pictures received online in just a few short hours are still making his head spin. It’s one thing for a picture of Osamu or Atsumu to go viral, sure, but another thing entirely when Osamu’s looking at him in the picture. Akaashi can’t tell if he loves or hates the sensation of being seen by so many.
He hears the man’s chatter over the phone, remembers what all this is for, and concludes that he hates it.
“The pictures are great, Akaashi. We had to let a few people sneak their phones into the club to get them, but they look so natural . Media’s having a field day with it too.”
“I’m aware, sir. It is my job to track media mentions of the twins.”
“Well then you can see for yourself how well they’re doing! Eat up the attention while you have it, and we can worry about the break up later.”
“But sir-”
“I have to go now, Akaashi, but enjoy the show today! Say hi to your new fans!”
The line goes dead and Akaashi glares at his phone.
“Still tryna get out of this?” Osamu asks. Akaashi sighs and watches his private instagram account get 80 more follow requests.
“I don’t think this is a good look for the group.”
Akaashi sees Osamu shrug in the corner of his eye. “The ball’s already rolling at this point. I don’t think there’s much we can do to stop it.”
“You could-”
Akaashi realizes they’ve made it to the television studio when he hears pounding on the sides of the van. Fans with signs and merchandise line the street on both sides, and the security team is waiting for them as the van pulls to a stop in front of the doors to the studio.
As always, Akaashi prepares to leave the van after the twins exit, but as soon as the door slides open, chants of his name pour into the car. Fans poised with phones - some angry, some excited - scream questions and accusations at him. Everything from how long he’s been with Osamu to why he had to take ‘their Osamu away’ is asked of him as security pushes him and the rest of their team into the studio.
Despite the occasional insult thrown into the mix, it’s exhilarating to hear so many people shouting for his attention, stretching their arms out to him, or pushing cameras in his face. It reminds him of the kind of attention he craved when he was younger and more naive, when he had wished for the idol lifestyle for himself and not just the people he worked for.
But it’s over almost as quickly as it began, and the fans’ shouts become muffled on the other side of the thick studio doors. The first thing Akaashi hears after his ears stop ringing is Atsumu’s laughter.
“I guess it’s too late to stop anything now. Welcome to the family, Keiji-kun!”
Osamu shoves him as the two are ushered to hair and makeup, and Akaashi can’t get the echo of people chanting his name out of his head.
Akaashi’s never been more nervous to watch grown men do stupid shit on tv.
The variety show is going as planned, with a few funny games mixed into a standard interview. The twins have thrown fruit at each other, played each other’s least favorite instruments, and had a pillow fight with the co-hosts.
Now, Osamu and Atsumu each sit over their own dunk tanks as the rules of the last game of the day are explained.
“It’s simple. Answer the question about your brother correctly, and you stay dry. If you get it wrong, you get to take a bath!” The host laughs. The live audience cheers and the twins look amused, but Akaashi’s sitting on the edge of his seat as he watches from their dressing room.
“The first question is for Atsumu. Atsumu, if Osamu could change his hair color, what would he do?”
“Easy. He’d stop dyeing it and go back to brown in a heartbeat.”
Before the hosts even look to him for confirmation, Osamu’s nodding his head. “All these colors look silly on me.”
“That’s not true, Osamu. I’m sure your fans loved when you and Atsumu switched hair colors for your birthday last year.” The host teases. The audience screams their agreement.
“Osamu, what’s your brother’s favorite The Miyas song?”
“‘Power.’ He never lets me do my verse by myself, that’s how much he loves it.”
“Close, but wrong. It’s ‘In Your Heart,’ because I’m always in our fans’ hearts.” Atsumu smiles sweetly and makes a finger heart at the camera trained on him. The audience eats it up.
“Ya liar . That’s not-” Osamu is dropped into his tank before he can finish his sentence. He breaks the water’s surface gasping about how his brother’s a liar, but it’s drowned out by said brother’s laughter and the cheering from the audience.
The questions only get more intense and invasive, as most interviews do. Rumors about drugs or being drunk during shows, potential feuds with members of other groups, songs they regret making or releasing. Akaashi knows they’re lying through half of these questions to save face, and almost lets himself be lulled by the general chaos of it all as he usually is.
Then Akaashi’s biggest fear is realized when Atsumu’s asked about his brother’s relationship status.
“It’s only fair since we asked your brother about ~Sakusa-san~.” The host coos. Atsumu gulps and looks at his brother. “You spend almost every day together. You have to know if your brother’s officially taken.”
It’s a planted question and Akaashi knows it is. In any other situation, the management team would be steering clear of anything that would even suggest that the boys aren’t completely single, but he remembers this question vividly as an ugly bullet point in the email he received weeks ago.
“He’s...He’s glaring daggers at me so I might as well say it.” Atsumu chuckles nervously. If anyone can feel the shift in energy in the studio, they don’t mention it. “He just started dating our head of PR. Akaashi-san, I believe.”
Osamu ducks his head slightly when the hosts turn to him. “It’s still a new development, but yeah. We’re...yeah, we’re together.”
The audience in the studio is deafening and Akaashi can hear them through the walls that separate the filming from the rest of the team. Not even a minute later, his assistants are scrambling for their devices to track the burst of tweets coming from idol fan accounts with the news.
“T-this is a lot, Akaashi-san.” one of his assistants says. “I can barely keep up.”
“Don’t read every specific tweet or your head will spin off. Just focus on the general sentiment of fans.” Akaashi sighs. Osamu looks directly at the camera trained on him, and for a moment it feels as if they lock eyes before he looks back at the screaming crowd. “Something tells me we’re gonna be tracking this for a while.”
~~~
“4,675 tweets.”
“Excuse me?”
“4,675 tweets. That’s how many tweets were made about the variety show in the last 20 minutes of the show after you said we were together.”
Osamu glances back at him with a confused look as he leads them to the elevator to his apartment. Akaashi’s seen the building, matte black and 50 stories high and something he couldn’t ever dream of affording, but he’s never been inside to see that the squeaky clean white tile complements the exterior, or that Osamu’s on a first name basis with the building’s doorman, or that the elevator only moves after a code is correctly entered.
Akaashi feels like he’s stepping into a spy movie and Osamu’s looking at him like he just popped a third eye.
He waits until the elevator doors shut before asking “Are we not supposed to be together? I said what I was supposed to.”
“I know you were supposed to , but it doesn’t freak you out that there were almost 5,000 tweets made about you in 20 minutes? I’d be freaking out.”
“Yeah, ya kinda are.” Osamu looks at him again. The elevator stops five floors before their destination and asks for a new passcode. Osamu enters it and the elevator continues upwards.
“What the fuck.” Akaashi whispers.
“Maybe ya need a drink when we get inside?”
Akaashi nods slightly. Even the elevator floor is white tile. He’s gonna lose his mind.
The elevator finally opens into the genkan of Osamu’s apartment. Akaashi feels weird calling it that, since it’s probably bigger than the bathroom at his own apartment, but he slowly toes off his shoes and follows Osamu inside.
The floors throughout the apartment are dark wood, and there are gray marble accent walls that break up the off-white walls in the living room and open concept kitchen. The living room has a dark case with glass doors that showcases music awards and plaques with tiny spotlights over each one. The award for the first The Miyas album becoming platinum hangs in the middle of the biggest living room wall, and on either side of it are framed posters of Osamu and his brother. Akaashi swears he can see signatures on the posters if he squints hard enough.
The kitchen is big enough to hold a bar and an island, both made of the same wood as the floor, and Osamu gestures to a seat at the bar before moving to stand behind it. Akaashi doesn’t watch what kind of drink he makes but takes the offered glass.
“If it helps, I went viral once because people thought I’d dyed my hair blonde. Really it was just the light hitting my forehead in a weird way as I was coming out of the airport.”
“We had just touched down in Paris. I remember.”
Osamu smiles. “I was trending for 12 hours. Atsumu went outside without socks or shoes on one time and there were memes about his feet for days . It’s a weird thing to say, but ya get used to it.”
Akaashi swirls the dark liquid around in its glass. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that much attention.”
Osamu shrugs. “Ya’d be surprised.”
Akaashi takes a sip of his drink and slaps a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from spitting it back on the bar counter. He doesn’t even want to think about what that cleaning bill looks like.
He swallows around the burn and glares at Osamu. “I thought this was supposed to relax me , not make me pass out.”
Osamu rolls his eyes. “I need ya loose limbed if we’re gonna be taking these photos. If ya sit and object to every one this will take forever.”
“Fine.” Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut, downs his drink, and keeps his eyes closed until he’s certain the room won’t be spinning when he opens them.
When he finally blinks his eyes open, Osamu’s making himself another glass. “Congrats, ya survived.”
“Let’s just take these pictures so I can leave this self-made Miyas shrine as soon as possible.”
“They are achievements , Akaashi. I like to remember them.”
The pair move throughout the apartment taking pictures together. One similar to the one they took in the studio, now in Osamu’s bedroom, one of Akaashi sprawled out on Osamu’s couch, one of Osamu preparing food in the kitchen where Akaashi’s jacket is in the background ever so slightly. It’s not a smooth process, and each photo is preceded and followed by bickering as they argue about poses, lighting, angles, and anything else that could hinder the picture. The sun is preparing to dip below the horizon by the time they have a set of usable photos.
They are all so obviously staged to Akaashi. He can tell Osamu’s holding the spoon in his hand too stiffly, or that he’d never feel relaxed in the position he’s in on the couch. Osamu insists that anyone who wasn’t here to see the process wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them and a couple who’s been in love for years.
“That’s a big claim.” Akaashi whistles as he finds his way back to the couch. “Maybe you do deserve that acting award that you’re being considered for.”
Osamu snorts. “If - and that’s a big if - I get it, it’ll only be because of that campaign ya did for us on TokTok.”
“It’s TikTok.” Akaashi sighs. “One of the biggest names in music and he doesn’t know how to say TikTok.”
Osamu laughs and shifts closer on the couch. “Yer focused on the wrong things, Akaashi. I just complimented yer work . If I had done that two months ago ya woulda stared at me for hours.”
“I still don’t really believe it just happened.”
“I’m just tryna butter ya up for this next picture we hafta take.” Osamu shrugs and Akaashi feels the good mood drain from his body.
“Please don’t say it’s what I think it is.”
Osamu nods and wordlessly leans back against the couch. “Ya need to be sitting in my lap for this one.”
Akaashi groans and drops his head in his hands. The drink from earlier almost fights its way back up, but Akaashi takes deep, centering breaths until he’s convinced himself to take the picture and not throw up on this couch that probably costs more than all of the furniture he owns combined.
Osamu wraps an arm around his waist and hands Akaashi his phone. “I’m just gonna kiss yer cheek, okay? And maybe yer forehead, but that’s it.”
“Mmhm, sure, whatever gets me off of your lap sooner.”
“It’s not like yer the most pleasant weight to have on me.” Osamu grunts.
Akaashi holds the phone up to their faces, and Osamu presses his lips to Akaashi’s cheek just as the shutter sounds. Osamu moves away before Akaashi can think about how warm Osamu’s skin felt on his.
“Is that good?”
“You claim to be the photographer. You check.”
Osamu huffs and turns the phone towards him before angling it back. “Let’s take more.”
“Fine. Keep your lips on my cheek until I can take a few.”
“Take it easy, Akaashi-san. I might start to think ya enjoy it.”
“You wish.”
Osamu does as he’s told and holds the kiss to Akaashi’s cheek until Akaashi can take a few pictures at different angles. Osamu throws his phone to the side once he’s deemed the photos good enough, but his arm doesn’t move from Akaashi’s waist.
“You have to let me go so I can get all of this unpleasant weight off of you.”
“Do ya ever have an off switch?”
“Just as much as you do.” Akaashi huffs and sticks his nose in the air. He knows it’s childish, but Osamu brings out the petty in him. Another reason he can’t wait for this thing to be over so they can go back to ignoring each other and exchanging two sentences a week when necessary.
“Now that I have ya here, I’ve been thinking.”
“We’ve talked about how you trying to think does nothing but harm.”
“ I’ve been thinking . We’re gonna hafta do this in public soon.”
“I’m aware. We did receive the same itinerary.”
“So we should practice. Make sure we’re not complete idiots at it.”
“Practice...what?” Akaashi asks. Osamu raises his eyebrows at him.
“Absolutely not. We’re not going to practice kissing like we’re high schoolers .”
“We have never done it together before. We don’t want to go out on what should be a date between established partners and look like we have no idea what we’re doing.”
“Are you saying I don’t know how to kiss?”
“I’m saying ya don’t know how to kiss me .” Osamu huffs.
“What happened to you having all this previous dating experience before? Just use that and apply it to me.”
“Yer a completely different person. If ya kiss like a sea lion, I would like to know in my home instead of in front of a pap.”
Akaashi balls his hands into fists to keep himself from digging his nails into Osamu’s shoulder. As much as he hates it, he understands the argument. The last thing he wants after doing the work to make this relationship look real is to be called out over something as simple as a kiss.
“Fine.”
Osamu sits up and squeezes Akaashi’s waist tighter. “Yeah?”
“What, you thought I’d say no?”
“I can never tell with ya.”
Akaashi rolls his eyes and squares his shoulders. “Let’s just get this over with. If you’re a bad kisser, I’m telling the tabloids.”
“I hope they pay ya enough to survive while ya look for a new job.”
Akaashi grabs Osamu’s face and kisses him to shut him up. Osamu’s mouth feels much softer than it did on his cheek, and he lets his hands be moved to Osamu’s neck when Osamu pulls them away from his face.
Osamu keeps one arm tight around Akaashi’s waist, hand absently petting at Akaashi’s hip, and brings the other to cup Akaashi’s jaw. Akaashi’s never felt...warm like this when he’s kissed someone. He knows the coolness of lips from a partner that has long since stopped loving him, or the rushed, searing hot kisses of a one night stand. But here, Osamu holds Akaashi close and keeps him there as their lips move together.
The only thing that can be heard in the apartment is the slight shifting of clothes as Akaashi’s hands wander down Osamu’s chest and the hums Osamu lets out under his breath. After a moment, Akaashi pulls back, tries to remember why he’s in Miya Osamu’s apartment and on Miya Osamu’s lap, but Osamu doesn’t let him go far.
“What’s wrong?” Osamu mumbles as he leans in for another kiss. He pulls Akaashi’s bottom lip into his mouth and lets it go with a soft hum.
“Don’t you- I think we got enough practice.”
Osamu slowly shakes his head and kisses the corner of Akaashi’s mouth. Akaashi tries to hide the shudder that runs through him. “I need a little more, don’t ya think?”
Akaashi hums and leans in until he’s mere centimeters from Osamu’s mouth. “Not complaining about my weight anymore, are you?”
“Not at all.” Osamu groans as he kisses Akaashi again.
Osamu’s hands are firm as they splay out across the expanse of his back. Akaashi moves his hands from Osamu’s neck up to his hair, and the softness there is a stark contrast to the harsh way he finds himself gripping it as Osamu lightly scratches at his back. He doesn’t realize he’s been slowly grinding his hips until Osamu curses against his mouth and pulls him closer. For a flash of a moment, Akaashi thinks things could go a bit further than this, and in that flash he realizes he’s more than okay with that.
Osamu breaks their kiss to pant against Akaashi’s mouth, and the power trip Akaashi feels by having one of the most famous men in Japan catching his breath underneath him makes his head spin.
“Fuck.” Osamu groans, bringing his hands back to Akaashi’s waist and guiding his hips to roll against Osamu faster. “ Fuck , Keiji, may I-”
The blaring of a phone ringtone almost startles Akaashi completely off of Osamu’s lap. Osamu curses, one creative word after another, and slaps his phone without looking at it until it silences. Akaashi glances behind Osamu’s head and the framed picture of the same man stares back at him, and suddenly it washes over him what he’s doing and why he’s in his client’s apartment.
He stumbles off of Osamu’s lap and hastily looks for his jacket. “I have to- I should go.”
“Keiji, what-”
“It’s Akaashi.”
“Where are ya going?”
Akaashi stops and turns to him. He pointedly ignores the fact that Osamu’s half hard. “We finished what I came here to do. So I’m going home, and hopefully I won’t run into another Miyas poster on my way there.”
He doesn’t bother stopping to put his jacket on, and watches Osamu run his hands through his hair as the elevator doors shut.
~~~
The same office clock that Akaashi used to find solace in makes him flinch every few seconds it ticks on. He keeps his eyes trained on his tablet in front of him, watches more follow requests and twitter mentions silently pop into his notifications, and refuses to look over at Atsumu.
He can feel the man trying to burn holes in his face with his stare, before shifting and giving his younger brother the same treatment. Osamu’s tactic apparently is to pretend that he’s fallen asleep at the conference table, but his eyelids keep twitching when he feels his brother looking at him.
Atsumu hums. “Y’all fucked, didn’t ya?”
Osamu shoots upright in his seat and Akaashi almost knocks his tablet over.
“We did not -”
“It wasn’t like that-”
“ ‘Wasn’t like that?’ So y’all did something ?” Atsumu laughs delightedly. Akaashi shoots Osamu a glare and Osamu tries to glare back, but the blush splotching his cheeks doesn’t make it very effective.
“If ya tell any of them about this, I swear I’ll-”
“Yeah, yeah, yer gonna make me wish I was never born. Relax . This is something I’m keeping all for myself.”
“ Great . Like that’s any better.” Akaashi grumbles.
“Sounds like everyone’s in a good mood this morning!” The head of the management team strides into the room with a grin on his face.
“On the contrary, sir. I have never wanted to kill my brother more than I have in this moment.” Osamu drawls. Atsumu’s grin doesn’t leave his face.
“Well you can kill your brother after we get back from the Japan Record Awards, okay?”
Akaashi spots matching looks of shock on the twins’ faces before Osamu speaks.
“Maybe I misheard ya. Did ya say we’re going to the-”
“Japan Record Awards? Yes, that’s right, Miya-san. The Miyas have been nominated for the Grand Prix award for ‘Soul.’”
Akaashi remembers the song well. It’s been a fan favorite since his team dropped teasers of the song weeks before it was released as a single. It outperformed the rest of their album on the charts, it’s the most requested song on radio stations, and it’s picking up in popularity internationally.
He’ll never get tired of seeing the astounded excitement on the duo’s face, though.
Atsumu shouts and leans over to shake Osamu in his seat. “We did it, Samu! We gotta call ma, and I gotta text Omi, and-”
“First you have to approve this thank you message we’ve drafted for your fans.”
“Sorry, Keiji-kun, I’m on the phone!” Atsumu yells behind himself as he runs out of the room waving his cell phone in the air.
“Guess we have a free moment while he’s calling god knows who.” Osamu sighs and stands. “Let’s take a break.”
“Where will you go on your break?”
“ We are getting ice cream, Akaashi.” Osamu emphasizes with a nod to the door his twin just ran out of.
“We need to get this statement posted, and start working on-”
“Ya can’t post it without my brother’s approval, and he’ll be on the phone for the next hour at least . Take a break. Celebrate a victory ya helped us win.”
Akaashi hesitates, but the head of management shoos him with a motion of his hand. “Go! It’ll be good press anyways. Have fun!”
The reminder of what his job has become - what he and his client have become - makes him nod stiffly and follow Osamu out of the building.
Despite the popularity of the company building and the people that work in it, the local businesses in the surrounding area tend to keep a low profile and small customer base. This allows people like Miya Osamu to pureuse ice cream flavors in peace, and in turn, people like Miya Osamu leave thousands of yen as a tip on an order that was a third of that price.
“Congrats on your nomination, Miya-san.” Is what Akaashi says as Osamu hands him his ice cream. Osamu smiles.
“Thank ya, Akaashi. It was all of our win. People wouldn’t know about our music if ya didn’t promote it like ya do.”
“Well, it’s my job.”
“And yer good at it.”
Akaashi doesn’t reply and instead slowly leads their stroll back to their building. It’s still a beautiful day out, one of those afternoons that are barely hot enough to warrant something like ice cream. The sun’s high in the sky but it’s a welcomed warmth, kind and inviting and only harsh enough to burn if you stay under it for a beat too long. It’s one of those days that Akaashi wishes his job would let him take more advantage of, so he slows his walk, lets the knowledge of the work and deadlines waiting for him in his office fade as he listens to Osamu’s steps fall into sync next to him.
“Do ya like yer job, Kaashi?”
“Hmm?”
“Ya just always seem stressed when yer at work. Yer good at what ya do, but that doesn’t mean ya hafta like it.”
Akaashi shrugs, scoops some vanilla and sprinkles onto his spoon before answering. “I love what I do. I love music and I love working with people who love music. My job is making sure you stay in the forefront of everyone’s minds when everyone is thinking about everything else, though, so it’s always going to be stressful. I guess that’s what makes it exciting.”
There’s a beat of silence and Akaashi’s eyes drift towards the sky again. “Do you like yours?”
Osamu laughs beside him. “What do ya mean?”
“Do you like your job? Is it all passion and a privilege like you tell your fans, or is it just something you can do to make money?”
“It can’t be both?”
“How could it possibly be both?”
“I love what I do. I love that I got this opportunity, I love that I’m able to work with my brother of all people.” Osamu shrugs. “But a job is a job. It may seem easy compared to others, but it has its pros and cons like any and every job.”
“Do the cons ever outweigh the pros?”
“Ya see it when they do first hand. I wouldn’t be going home this bruised and exhausted if I had a desk job. I wouldn’t have to wait years to celebrate Christmas with my ma if I had gotten a small job close to home.”
“But you also wouldn’t have been able to experience what you have, or give your family outrageous gifts from around the world if you had stayed home.”
Osamu smiles and shrugs again. “Pros and cons.”
They fall into silence once more. Akaashi listens to the clunk of the boots Osamu insists are cool as they walk side by side.
“Can I try yer ice cream, Kaashi?” Osamu asks as they inch closer to their building. Akaashi looks down at his cup of ice cream and frowns.
“I guess, but it’s just vanilla with some toppings. Nothing to really-”
A warm hand cupping the back of his neck makes his words die in his throat. Osamu bends forward and presses his lips to Akaashi’s in a soft but lingering peck. It’s much more tame than the last time they kissed, but somehow makes Akaashi want to melt against him all the same. He opts for sliding a hand up Osamu’s free arm and softly squeezing at the muscle there. Years of rehearsals, workout sessions, and performances have paid off in Osamu’s arms nearly being the size of Akaashi’s head, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t use this opportunity to experience them up close.
“Sorry,” Osamu whispers against his mouth. He doesn't pull away immediately and Akaashi welcomes his body heat. “Just in case there’s people watching us.”
“Just in case?”
“Mmhm.”
Akaashi hums and kisses him again. “How was my ice cream?”
Osamu smiles and kisses his forehead before pulling away and heading towards the company building. “Sweet.”
~~~
No matter what Akaashi says or how much he bitches, the private jet rides that he goes on outweigh 70% of the cons of his job. The stress, the challenges, the exhaustion are all worth it for the ability to fly anywhere in the world with legroom and a free open bar.
He takes advantage of both now as he crosses his ankles and sips at his second - third? - flute of champagne. All of the content that needs to be posted over the next couple of hours is already prepped and scheduled, and the twins’ phones are already in airplane mode so they can’t do anything rash like tweet their location like Atsumu did the last time they flew to Tokyo for an awards show.
Akaashi can tell both of the boys are thrumming with nervous energy as the flight staff flit around them preparing for takeoff. Atsumu sits on his hands and bounces both of his legs, pulling a hand from under himself to check his phone every few minutes for a notification from what Akaashi can only presume would be Sakusa Kiyoomi. Akaashi’s tried to remind him that his phone won’t receive any new notifications until they land in Tokyo, but his words have clearly gone in one ear and out the other, so he lets the man be.
Osamu, on the other hand, has become even quieter than usual. He sits on the opposite side of the plane, right foot resting on his left knee as he looks out the window next to him. He doesn’t move much when he gets like this, but Akaashi notices the deep, measured breaths that Osamu’s forcing himself to take.
“Miya-san.” Akaashi nudges Osamu with his foot and motions at him with his glass when Osamu glances at him. “What’s on your mind?”
Osamu grunts. “What’s not on my mind right now?”
“Do you wanna talk about it? I’ve been told I’m a good sounding board for brain dumps.”
Osamu snorts and motions to the seat across from him. Akaashi takes the invitation, finishes the rest of his glass in one swallow before moving into the new seat. “I’m all ears.”
Osamu looks at him for a moment, eyes slightly squinted like he doesn’t know what to do about the man in front of him. Finally he turns back to the window.
“I didn’t have anything I wanted to share. I just wanted ya to sit over here. It’s comforting.”
“Me sitting closer to you is comforting?”
Osamu hums his agreement. “Yer like…a lighthouse, I guess.”
“A lighthouse.”
“Yep.”
“In what way?”
Osamu waves a hand in front of him like he’s trying to find the right words. “Ya know how lighthouses guide ships to land in the night.”
“That is what they were designed to do.”
Osamu rolls his eyes. “Yer like that, I guess. Sometimes I feel really lost or overwhelmed or confused and…just ya being here makes me feel like I’m going in the right direction.”
Akaashi cocks his head and blinks. Osamu glances over at him after a moment of silence. “What?”
“Maybe I’ve had too much to drink, but I could’ve sworn you just gave me a compliment.”
Osamu kicks Akaashi’s shin. “That’s the first and last time that’s happening.”
“No, you’ve also told me that I’m ‘really good at my job.’ I think that was the first time. Or maybe it was-”
Osamu covers his face with his hands and slumps further into his seat. “Okay, we got it , thank ya. I’m just gonna shut the fuck up forever now.”
Akaashi has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “I’ll be out of a job if you do that, Miya-san.”
Osamu crosses his arms over his chest and huffs under his breath. Akaashi doesn’t miss the way biceps bulge in this new position. “We’ve been supposedly dating for months now. What’s it gonna take for ya to call me Osamu?”
“You’re still my client at the end of the day, Miya-san .”
Osamu lets his eyes slip closed and leans his head back against his seat. “I’ll make ya say it one day.”
Akaashi mirrors him as he feels the jet engine roar to life below them. “I look forward to seeing you try.”
~~~
Akaashi doesn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until Osamu’s shaking him awake.
“Keiji.” Osamu whispers. He brushes Akaashi’s hair off of his forehead and shakes him again. “We landed later than planned so hair and makeup are gonna meet us at the hotel for tonight. Ya hafta get up, though.”
Akaashi nods quickly, eyes still closed, and accepts Osamu’s help getting him on his feet. Osamu practically pulls him out of the plane and into the car, and keeps him close until they get to the hotel. The twins hurry ahead of the rest of the team, and by the time Akaashi’s fully awake and has made it to their room, Atsumu’s half dressed and Osamu’s in the makeup chair.
The twins have matching black suits for the show, with silver jewels on the lapels of Osamu’s suit jacket and a silver diamond encrusted bow tie for Atsumu. They’re given light makeup since they’re not performing, but Osamu still winces and cringes when a brush or sponge comes into contact with his face.
Akaashi makes his way to the makeup chairs and Osamu immediately reaches a hand out for Akaashi to hold. Akaashi takes it. “You’d think three years of getting your makeup done would make you more accustomed to it.”
“That’s what Atsumu said would happen, the bastard. I still hate it.”
“You don’t have to like it, but just stop prolonging the process by moving so much.”
“I would if I- shit - could.”
Akaashi pats Osamu’s hand. “Poor thing.”
“If I could glare at ya, I would, but I don’t wanna be yelled at again.”
“Yeah, please don’t do that.” The makeup artist grumbles under her breath. Akaashi laughs.
Osamu sighs and blinks dramatically when the makeup artist finishes. “I feel like there’s paint on my face.”
“ Or , and hear me out, you’re just being dramatic.”
Osamu does glare then, but it’s hard to feel the heat behind it when he looks so pretty doing it.
The twins switch places and their designer ushers Osamu into a separate room to get dressed. Between his assistants capturing behind the scenes footage and staff from the awards show calling to make sure their team is on time, Akaashi doesn’t see Osamu again until both the twins are ready and headed out for the night. Their assistants accompany them to the event while Akaashi and his team handle the media coverage from the hotel. From there, Akaashi watches the twins walk the red carpet, sign merch for fans that made it closest to the barricade, and expertly dodge questions during the pre-event interviews that are dispersed all along the carpet. Most of the questions are pretty tame since it’s a big night for everyone, but Osamu ends up making a few comments about Akaashi after some needling from the interviewers.
“We haven’t been together for long, so we’re just trying things out, getting to know each other. It’s a nice process, especially with him.”
“He’s nice! Very smart, very hardworking since he’s been able to keep us out of trouble for so long.”
“I’m happy where we’re at right now. I like him. I like us.”
Akaashi waves off the looks and jabs he gets from his assistants and tries to focus on reposting content until the show arrives.
Since there’s not much to report on for most of the night, Akaashi and his team watch the awards show once it’s begun. The atmosphere is usually pretty tense for things like these, especially when the twins are up for such a highly acclaimed award, but Akaashi has to grip his own knee to keep it from bouncing and sending him slipping right off the hotel desk chair. The rest of his team is the same, with most of them huddled together on the bed next to him with their eyes glued to the tv.
The awards pass too slow and too fast all at once, and before Akaashi knows it, the nominations for the Grand Prix are being announced and the twins briefly flash across the screen. It feels as if all the air is sucked out of the room for the 30 seconds it takes for the presenter to open the envelope. Akaashi can feel his lungs beginning to burn but he doesn’t remember when he started holding his breath.
“And the winner of the 2021 Grand Prix award goes to…The Miyas, ‘Soul’!”
Cheers erupt in the hotel room at the same time they do on the television. Akaashi watches the boys stare at each other dumbfounded. The camera follows their path to the stage as they walk together.
“This is just- wow!” Atsumu laughs. He runs a hand through his hair out of habit and Akaashi can already hear the complaints of their hair stylist. “Thank ya so much for this award. Samu and I love what we do, we love putting our heart and soul - heh, pun intended - into everything we make, and being acknowledged at this level makes everything feel worth it.” He looks over his shoulder, and the camera pans to a still gobsmacked Osamu. “Would my brother like to say a few words?”
Osamu takes the award from Atsumu slowly and takes his place in front of the microphone. “This is…” he stares down at the statue in his hands for a moment before addressing the crowd again. “This is just incredible. This is so monumental for the both of us. I am so, so lucky that I get to live this life and do this job with my brother and best friend everyday, and it’s because of support like this that we get to do what we do. I’d like to thank my brother for believing that I could do this, our ma for pushing us both to follow our dreams, and my love, Keiji. If it wasn’t for y’all, plus so many more people I’m forgetting to mention right now, I wouldn’t be here, so thank ya, thank ya, thank ya.”
The twins leave the stage as the crowd applauds them once again. Or, at least, Akaashi figures that’s what happened. His ears started ringing the moment he heard Osamu mention him in his speech, and he couldn’t focus on anything else. He’s faintly aware of his team making jokes around him, but all he can hear is the echo of what Osamu said as it replays and bounces around in his head.
It’s brought up again later that night, when Akaashi finds himself slightly tipsy in the same hotel room, this time with the twins and the rest of their team getting equally or more drunk than him in the name of celebration. Osamu’s still in that suit, heavy jacket discarded somewhere between his second and third drink and shirt buttons slowly coming undone soon after that.
“Was that okay?” He asks from his spot leaning against the front door. Akaashi notices that what he can see of Osamu’s chest is turning red, either from the alcohol or the rising heat in the room from so many other bodies also reacting to alcohol. He can tell that he’s staring, and that the acceptable time frame to look away probably passed 30 seconds ago, but the drinks coursing through Akaashi’s own veins make it hard for him to tear his eyes away. He barely manages when he remembers that Osamu asked him a question.
“Hmm?”
“Was- hick - was that okay? What I said earlier?”
“When?”
“At the show. With the- the trophy.”
“Award.”
“Mhm. That.”
The conversation feels like it’s going in slow motion, but Akaashi can barely keep up. He wants to know if Osamu’s skin feels as warm to the touch as it looks.
“I dramati- dramatics- I made it more dramatic because of…ya know…but I meant it. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Osamu sways on his feet despite resting his entire weight against the door. It’s truly impressive. Or at least Akaashi thinks so.
“Mostly. I like ya, yer nice to have around, and ya help the team a lot. But yer so annoying.”
“I wouldn’t be so annoying, Miya- san , if you didn’t treat me like the bad guy all the time.”
Osamu scoffs with his whole body, neck loose and rolling as he frowns. The movement’s like a ripple effect and causes another full body sway. He leans dangerously close into Akaashi’s space and Akaashi doesn’t move away. His brain helpfully reminds him of a time he and Osamu were much closer than this.
“I don’t do that.”
“You pick on me. Glare at me. Roll your eyes at me when you don’t get your way.”
Osamu hums, tilts his head towards the dim overhead light before letting it roll back down. “Yer cute when yer angry though.”
“Am I?”
“Mm.”
“I’ve been told I’m cuter when you’re not actively making me want to impale myself with my tablet stylus.”
Osamu barks out a laugh, almost like he’s surprised by his own amusement, and the shock makes Akaashi laugh too. They’re laughing way too loud for being this close to each other, but somehow that thought makes Akaashi laugh harder, makes him almost double over with the force of it. Osamu catches his shoulder, though, and every laugh seems to get caught in Akaashi’s throat after he looks up at him.
“I meant it, though. What I said.”
“Mostly?”
“Mostly.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“No.” Osamu pulls Akaashi in by his shoulder and kisses his cheek once, twice. “Thank ya, Keiji.”
Osamu wanders off after that, probably to either sleep or find his brother. Akaashi keeps to himself in his corner, eyes trained on the ground and hand pressed to his cheek.
~~~
“Sit with me on the plane, Keiji.” Is the first coherent thing Osamu says to him the next morning. Akaashi’s still in his clothes from the night before, unfinished drink abandoned on the ground next to him. His back is sore from falling asleep against the hotel wall and his eyes hesitate to open against the lights that were left on, but he nods at Osamu’s request and holds his hands up to be helped to his feet.
He goes through most of his morning routine with his eyes as close to shut as possible. The morning after awards shows are always rough, especially if they’d stayed up celebrating a win, but everyone always has the following day off and that is what Akaashi clings to as he gets ready. He imagines his bed, his shitty tea kettle and the collection of teas, and his backlog of new shows waiting for him as he lazily washes his face and changes into the clothes he packed.
He slumps against Osamu during the drive to the airport, but Osamu either doesn’t mind or is too hungover to notice.
He doesn’t let Akaashi get two steps into the plane before he pulls him towards the seats they were in the day before.
“We can’t both fit in one chair, Os- Miya-san.” Akaashi mumbles.
Osamu grunts, lets himself drop into the seat before hitting the side a couple times until it reclines. He’s practically horizontal when he beckons Akaashi to join him.
“We can’t-”
“Come lay down.” Osamu grunts again. “Ya said ya would.”
Akaashi sighs and climbs into the chair, trying to ignore Atsumu’s stare that he can feel on the back of his head. He doesn’t look down at Osamu until he’s fully situated on top of him.
“Now what?”
“Now the plane takes off, Keiji.”
“I get that . But why’d you want to sit- or lay, really- like this?”
Osamu shrugs and it shifts the both of them. “Ya weren’t close enough yesterday.”
“Okay. Congratulations on your win, again.”
Osamu smiles. He reaches up to cup the back of Akaashi’s neck and pulls him into a quick peck. “Thank ya.”
“What was that for?”
“I can’t kiss ya now? I thought we were dating.”
“We are, technically , but I don’t think your brother’s going to sell photos to the paparazzi.”
“Maybe I just like kissing ya.” Osamu says. He tries to be nonchalant about it, but from this close Akaashi can see the nervous twitch in his left eyebrow and feel the way his hands have started to slightly shake where they’re rested on Akaashi’s back.
Akaashi can feel the moment he stops breathing and he hopes Osamu doesn’t notice.
“You like kissing me?”
“Mhm. When yer not being annoying.”
“So you think about it alot, then?”
“I never said that.”
“I know, that’s why I’m asking.”
Osamu glares but Akaashi can still feel his hands shaking.
“This is one of those times where yer being annoying.”
Akaashi frowns. “That’s a shame. Guess I should move to my own seat then-”
Osamu’s hands tighten on his back and Akaashi tries- he really, really does- to suppress the smirk that blooms across his face.
“Guess I’m not that annoying, then.”
“Yer more than annoying, actually, yer-”
Akaashi cuts him off by pressing a kiss to Osamu’s forehead. He doesn’t think about how natural it feels to kiss Osamu now, or how he wouldn’t mind doing so even if he wasn’t paid to. All of those thoughts make his stomach swoop with nerves, so instead of entertaining them, he lays his head on Osamu’s shoulder and smiles at the way Osamu sputters under him. “I’m going to sleep, Osamu.”
“Ya just- wait - Keiji-”
“ Goodnight , Osamu.” Akaashi mumbles, keeping his eyes closed despite all of Osamu’s attempts to get him to open them again.
~~~
The jostling of the plane landing pulls Akaashi from his sleep. Osamu’s breathing is even underneath him, so Akaashi shakes his shoulder until he begins to stir.
“We have to get ready to go, Miya-san.”
Osamu grunts and stretches his arms over his head. “Don’t act like ya didn’t call me Osamu earlier.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course ya don’t.”
Atsumu is already up and texting by the time Akaashi and Osamu are on their feet. His bag is slung over his shoulder, fingers moving a mile a minute over his phone screen as he sends off message after message. “What’re ya up to for the rest of the day, Keiji-kun?”
“I’m just going home-”
“He’s coming with me to my shopping appointments today.”
Akaashi turns to Osamu and frowns. “Since when?”
“Since right now when I found out I have plans and ya don’t.”
“I don’t-”
“Just come to a couple appointments. If yer really not feeling it, ya can leave. Plus, it’ll probably look good for ‘us’ anyways.”
Akaashi mentally apologizes to his tea collection that’s been waiting to be used. “Fine. Just two places.”
“Just two places.” Osamu concedes.
When Akaashi heard that Osamu had shopping appointments, he figured higher end stores take reservations for celebrities to shop to give them privacy, or maybe Osamu needed to pick up a custom order from his jeweler.
He didn’t think that they’d be looking at houses .
The first home they arrive at is deep into the suburbs, with an expansive front lawn and a long, curved driveway that leads right to the front door. The man Akaashi assumes is Osamu’s real estate agent is waiting for them on the front steps.
“Miya-san, Akaashi-san. Welcome. Today’s first property is about half an acre, with 5 bedrooms and 6 bathrooms. There’s 4 areas for entertaining guests, but the backyard pool is relatively small compared to your desires, Miya-san.”
“That’s alright. The yard is beautiful.”
The man smiles. “Yes, the front yard and back gardens are some of this property’s shining qualities. It’s secluded, which you were looking for, and within your 20 million yen budget as it’s listed at 17.5 million. Let’s see the rest of the house.”
Akaashi’s jaw drops open. He waits for the man to enter the home before turning to Osamu. “You’re about to spend 20 million yen on a house?!”
“Well not on this one, since it’s 17.5.” Osamu says, like those numbers are completely normal. Maybe for him they are, but Akaashi feels like sneezing in this house would cost him more than two years of his salary. He makes sure to keep his arms close to himself so he doesn’t hit or knock anything over throughout the tour.
The home is gorgeous, with polished wood floors, tall ceilings with floor to ceiling windows, and custom furniture and art pieces. Akaashi’s certain that even the smallest of the bathrooms here is bigger than his entire apartment.
Osamu doesn’t let go of his hand throughout the entire tour and pulls him close as they head back to the car. “Are ya okay?”
“Yes, just kind of…overwhelmed, I guess. I knew you two made a lot of money but I didn’t realize it was so much .”
The houses after that are similar to the first one; expensive and massive things with more space than Akaashi would ever know what to do with and property values that make his head spin. The more he sees the more he wonders why Osamu invited him of all people to join him. His brother would make more sense, since he’s used to this type of luxury and would be able to provide an actual opinion instead of focusing on the price tag. Any of Osamu’s celebrity friends could’ve come, too, or even his mother, since he values her opinions so much. So why him, someone who can’t begin to relate?
The more he watches Osamu move around these places, the more he hears him talk to his agent about the renovations he has in mind or the things he’s looking for in their next tour, the more Akaashi realizes that they couldn’t be any more different. They’re living in two completely different worlds, only intersecting so Akaashi can make enough money to keep a roof over his own head. No matter what Osamu feels about him, or what Akaashi thinks he feels for Osamu, they can’t ignore this clear separation between them.
“I want to go home.” Akaashi says in the middle of the fourth tour. The real estate agent disappeared a few minutes ago to take a phone call, and listening to Osamu think aloud about his plans for this house in particular was enough for Akaashi to reach his breaking point.
“Okay. There’s only a few more to see today, but we can cut it short and come back-”
“No, you stay. It’s your house that you’re shopping for. I want to leave.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s too- this isn’t for me. I don’t know why you brought me here, maybe to flaunt your money or something, I don’t know, but-”
“Keiji, I would never do that. I just wanted yer company.”
“ Why , though? Why not your brother, or any of your other stupid rich friends that actually care about this?”
Osamu frowns. “Ya could’ve said ya didn’t wanna come. I wasn’t gonna force ya.”
“That’s the thing, though. How am I supposed to say no to the big, famous hotshot that I work for?”
“It’s not like ya report to me . We both work for the same company, just doing different things. Ya know that.”
Akaashi scoffs. He doesn’t know where all this animosity is coming from, or maybe he does and he doesn’t wanna admit it. All he knows is that it’s scratching at the back of his throat like bile, and he’ll be damned if tries to contain it now.
“My entire job is contingent on if you like me . One complaint to my boss from you or your brother and I don’t have a place to work anymore. So how am I supposed to stop you from taking me here, or telling me to do whatever you want, or getting us into this stupid fucking relationship in the first place?”
“Please, this wasn’t my fault. If ya had such a problem with it, ya could’ve reported it or filed a formal complaint.”
“And risked my job . I don’t have the same job security as a fucking idol .”
“So ya hate it enough to bitch to me, but not enough to take this same shit up with yer actual boss? What exactly do ya want from me?”
Akaashi squints. He can feel his hands shaking at his sides so he folds his arms. “That’s a great question. I don’t know what I was expecting from you, or why I had my expectations for you so high in the first place when you’re so far removed from reality that you’re already planning renovations to houses that cost more than I will ever even think about.”
Akaashi heads to the front door and hopes he doesn’t get lost in this maze of a house on the way there.
“So that’s why yer mad. Yer jealous . It makes so much sense now.”
The word stops Akaashi in his tracks. “What did you just call me?”
Osamu shrugs, but the look in his eyes is cold, challenging. “Ya act like yer so much better than me because ya think yer work is more important, or more deserving, or whatever ya think, but we both know ya’d jump at the opportunity to be in my place if ya could.”
“You’re fucking delirious, Miya. Maybe that hair dye’s finally getting to your brain.”
“Maybe if it got there earlier, the company would actually need another idol, and yer audition would’ve turned out better.”
Akaashi’s blood runs cold and he thinks that if he glares any harder he might actually burst a blood vessel.
“What, ya thought it was a secret that ya got rejected in the first round of auditions? Everyone in the office knows. That’s how I know that all this anger is rooted in ugly, ugly jealousy. It’s just natural.
“I must say, though, it does take balls to come back and work for the same company that turned ya away. Hurts seeing me live the life ya wanted, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, please don’t be mistaken. Your life is not one I’d want to live. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I’m only famous because people like my brother.”
Osamu grits his teeth and Akaashi knows he’s struck a nerve. Now he wants to drive a stake through it.
“His fancams always outperform yours, his fan mail is pounds and pounds heavier, and on top of that, there’s rumors that MSBY are looking for a fourth member and have him heavily in mind. And if he chooses his new boyfriend over you, you’ll be stuck down here with the rest of us. Sure, you’re decent in a studio, but what good will that do you when you don’t have your brother to outshine you?”
And with that, Akaashi leaves, ignoring the questions from the real estate agent as he requests their driver take him home.
~~~
The sun that’s slowly creeping into Akaashi’s apartment replaces his need for a blanket when he takes naps in the early afternoons. The warmth peeks over his apartment balcony and cradles him in a way that blankets rarely can, and for a moment he’s tempted not to fully wake up, but to roll over on his couch and let the sun’s heat lull him back to sleep.
Then his stupid, no good, fucking phone rings.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Akaashi grumbles. He rolls off of the couch and slugs over to where he left his phone in his work bag by the door days ago. He’s surprised it still has enough battery to receive a call at all.
“Akaashi.”
“Akaashi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His boss yells on the other end. The force of Akaashi’s responding eye roll nearly gives him a headache.
“Right now it’s-” Akaashi pulls his phone from his face to check the time, “4:13pm on a Sunday, sir. I’d say I’m enjoying my weekend.”
“The same week that Osamu stomps in here and announces that he’s taking a break is the same week you choose to go radio silent on me?”
“I emailed you saying I was using some of my time off and that I prepared my team to succeed in my absence.”
“Somebody better start explaining some shit to me soon, or you’re both gonna be in trouble. If the news finds out about this-”
“They won’t as long as you don’t sell it to them.”
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating, Akaashi.”
“And I don’t like my time off being disturbed. Please email my assistant for further concerns until I return.”
Akaashi ends the call and makes sure to turn his phone all the way off this time. He saw that he had hundreds, if not thousands, of social media mentions waiting for him, but he can’t be bothered to check any of it. He trusts his team will keep the twins’ image afloat until he’s ready to come back and face Osamu.
His tv asks him if he’s still watching and he didn’t even remember choosing something to watch before he fell asleep. He turns the screen off and slumps back onto his sofa, letting the welcoming sun from earlier pull him back into sleep.
Akaashi is aware, to some degree, that time is passing. His phone is still off and the one clock in his apartment needed new batteries two months ago, so the only time he’s reminded of what day it is is when he catches the digital clock in the corner of his tv before he chooses a new program to watch. He finished watching and rewatching everything on his to-watch list, but now the content doesn’t matter. He puts on a random show and lets the noise act as distraction as he lounges around his apartment.
That’s why the knock at his front door is surprising enough to startle Akaashi off of his couch.
He knows his hair's a mess and that his shirt has a stain on the bottom from where he dropped a chocolate bar last night, but he tries to smooth his clothes out and look as presentable as possible as he makes his way to the door. When he opens it he finds his older neighbor waiting on the other side.
“Ah, Akaashi-san. It’s good to see you.”
“Is everything alright?”
“I feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you that, Akaashi-san. I haven’t seen you leave your house in days.”
Akaashi sighs and runs a hand across his face. “Everything’s alright. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ve just been using some time off that I’ve accumulated at work.”
His neighbor nods in understanding. “Alright. If you’re ever hungry and don’t want to cook, stop by my place. You know I cook too much to eat on my own.”
“Thank you for the offer.”
“Oh, and call that friend of yours back. Sugawara-san seems to be pretty worried about you.”
So that’s what this is about. “Thank you for checking in on me, ma’am.”
When she disappears back into her apartment, Akaashi shuts the door and fishes his phone out of his work bag. Notifications nearly overwhelm his phone when he turns it back on, but the newest notifications are all missed calls from Suga. His friend picks up on the first ring when he calls him back.
“It’s a fucking miracle how I haven’t skinned you alive already.”
“Why did you call my fucking neighbor ?”
“Because you weren’t picking up your phone! This is exactly why I got her number when you moved in!”
Akaashi can’t tell if it’s Suga or the lack of a properly cooked meal that’s giving him a headache. “Don’t you have children you’re supposed to be teaching?”
“Don’t change the subject, asshole. Where have you been? Have you seen Miya-san?”
Akaashi’s back straightens. “Why would I want to see him? What are you talking about?”
Suga groans dramatically on the other end of the call . “It’s so hard being the smart friend. First of all, you work with him. Second of all, you’ve been trending for 2 days because of Atsumu.”
“What?”
“Check Instagram and call me back to tell me what the fuck is going on. And eat something that’s not just ramen! I can smell your breath through the phone. Love you!”
The phone beeps in Akaashi’s ear and he pulls it away from his face. Instagram is where he has most of his unseen notifications from, so he does as Suga ordered.
The most recent post on Atsumu’s official Instagram page is of him and Osamu. It’s from the morning after the Japanese Record Awards when they both barely fit into the reclined seat on the plane. The angle of the picture only shows Akaashi’s and Osamu’s side profiles, but you can still see that they’re smiling at each other, and that Osamu’s hand is resting on Akaashi’s back at the very bottom of the picture.
“No paps. No fans. No reporters.” The photo caption reads. “Just my brother and the man who made him the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Days like this make me wish we could all go back.”
Akaashi’s surprised by his own open expression in the photo. He looks amused, playful, genuinely happy. Maybe for a moment he was. He doesn’t know when he allowed himself to be genuinely happy with Osamu despite the inauthenticity of their relationship, but this photo shows him and millions of others that that happiness existed between the both of them, at least for a little while.
Akaashi doesn’t know how to respond to this. Should he leave a comment on the post? Text Atsumu? Text Osamu ? He’s about to close the app and return to his social hibernation when he sees that Atsumu’s pinned comment is from his brother.
I wish we could go back to this too.
That does make Akaashi close the app and immediately call Suga back.
“What the fuck.”
“Yeah, what the fuck indeed. I had to find out my best friend was dating one of the most popular idols in the country through his equally popular brother?”
“No, it’s not- we- I said some things a couple of weeks ago. We both did. We haven’t spoken since.”
“So not only are you- again- dating one of the most popular, sought after people in Japan, but you’re fumbling the fucking bag? I thought I taught you better than this.”
Akaashi groans and barely stops himself from throwing his phone. “What do I do, since you know everything.”
“I don’t know! Tell him you’re sorry! Look at him like you wanna bone him the same way you look in this picture!”
“ Koushi .”
“Millions of people have seen a pic of you wanting to bone one of the Miyas. This was definitely not on my bingo card for you this year.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Go get your man!”
“He’s not mine!” Akaashi shouts before hanging up. He has Osamu’s number but he’s never used it for non-work calls. His thumb hovers over it as he hesitates, and then he remembers how happy he was in the moment the picture was taken. How happy they both were.
Osamu picks up on the first ring.
“Keiji? When did ya get my number?”
“When we started working for the same company, Miya-san.”
Osamu hums. “I’m guessing ya saw the picture Tsumu posted.”
“Yes, I did. I also saw your comment.”
“Ah. Right.”
“Can we talk? Are you busy right now?”
“Sure, I’m not busy right now. Just- can ya open the door? People are starting to look at me funny.”
“What?” Akaashi jumps to his feet, heart thundering in his throat. He nearly trips in his haste to get to his front door, and Osamu looks as nervous as Akaashi feels when he opens it.
“Hey.”
“Forget a phone number, how do you know where I live ?” Akaashi asks as he pulls Osamu through the door and shuts it behind him.
“It’s in your employee file. I bribed the people in HR for it.”
“I’m…pretty sure that’s a crime.”
“I’ll turn myself in after I apologize to ya.”
Akaashi sighs and motions for Osamu to take a seat on the couch. He notices an empty ramen packet on the floor next to the couch and kicks it under the seat as he sits down. “I should be apologizing. I said some fucked up things that are not okay to say to anyone all because I was jealous. You were taking me around to all these wildly expensive places that you could easily afford, and there was a part of me that still resents not being able to be an idol. It felt like you were trying to flaunt your wealth to someone who obviously couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be able to live like you. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t my place to bring up yer audition like that. I knew that it was probably a sensitive topic, but I just blurted it out.”
“I told you your brother was more popular than you, Osamu.”
Osamu snorts. “Yeah, ya did. He’s more charming, more extroverted, more of a natural with choreography. But I make the music, I help keep him grounded when he’s overworking himself, I’m more approachable with fans and in interviews. We balance each other out. We wouldn’t work so well if we didn’t.”
“And besides, I’m dating the PR guy, so I also have that as an advantage over him.”
Akaashi barks out a laugh. “Except the dating was for PR.”
“Sure, it was . But what about now?”
Akaashi cocks his head, pretends to think about it even as he feels his heart hammering against his chest. “Well, now I’m going to officially ask you out to make up for the shitty stuff I said to you.”
“I already said it’s okay, Keiji.”
“Well focus on the ‘me asking you out’ part, then.”
“Hmm. I’ll accept as long as there’s no paparazzi.”
“That can be arranged. No paparazzi, no staged pics for Instagram, and no brother taking candid pictures.”
Osamu not-so-subtly scoots closer on the couch and throws an arm around Akaashi. “Sounds perfect already.”