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“It wasn’t that bad,” Aran reassures him, gently prying Osamu’s phone away from him after he spots a particularly nasty-worded tweet.
From across the room, Suna looks up.
“Oh, Keiji breaking up with you is definitely one of the most embarrassing things that’s ever happened to you.”
“Top five for sure,” Atsumu chimes in, lounging on Osamu’s couch.
“I think the media even ranked it.”
“Suna,” Aran says warningly.
Suna searches up something quickly on his phone.
“Yeah see here it is – ‘top five embarrassing moments in celebrity culture this year.’”
Suna scrolls through, snickering.
“Atsumu is on here too.”
“Yeah but at number five,” Atsumu argues. “Osamu is at number one.”
“That’s enough,” Aran says, exasperated.
“M’glad we’re all on the same page,” Osamu grits out, grabbing a throw pillow to shove into his own face.
Out of Osamu’s obstructed view, Aran throws Atsumu and Suna sharp looks.
Stop it, he mouths.
After another second, the pillow comes down.
“Wait,” Osamu says, forehead red. “Let me see that.”
Suna throws him his phone away from Aran’s grabby hands.
++
The pictures of him crying alone at a cafe came out three weeks after their break-up.
He’d been sitting outdoors, trying to get some fresh air and sun like his team had recommended when the waiter came by with his order.
“A chocolate croissant and a black coffee,” he said, setting them down with a slight flourish.
“Oh I didn’t–”
He let his words drop off and let the waiter duck out with a quizzical look when he realized–
He did.
He did order that.
He’d ordered Keiji’s typical order without even thinking twice about it.
Osamu didn’t even like coffee.
And then the tears had come.
He sat there bent over crying for maybe thirty minutes, just looking at it, the poor black coffee in a delicate porcelain tea cup, before he finally stood up and got the hell out of the place, leaving behind a wad of cash on the table.
It wasn’t his finest moment, sobbing publicly over a harmless cup of coffee.
And in retrospect, he probably let it go on for about twenty-five minutes too long.
It was more than enough time for every media outlet in town to dispatch their photographers to the scene.
They stood across the road from the cafe, snapping away, and Osamu did not. even. care.
Aran provided him with a rundown in the aftermath as nicely as he could.
“So these measurements aren’t perfect, since social listening tools never really are, but according to our agency – public sentiment on the break-up is on your side, because you were the one spotted crying.”
Osamu sighs miserably.
“There is a sizable other segment that stands with Akaashi though.”
Atsumu’s nose wrinkles.
“Why?”
“They think he’s much cooler than you and that it’s lame that you cried,” Suna drops in bluntly.
Osamu blinks.
“They think I made up the tears?”
“Oh no, they think the tears are real,” Suna clarifies. “They just think it’s lame. You’re what the kids call, corny.”
Osamu sighs again, desolate.
“Don’t listen to him,” Aran interrupts.
“Yeah. Your metrics will be fine. There are still plenty of people online who want to fuck you,” Suna explains. “That’s always a good sign.”
++
They first met at the afterparty of an awards show.
Osamu was there as a presenter, and Akaashi as a nominee.
Akaashi didn’t win, he wasn’t expected to, but it was still a great validator of his recent rise.
He’d been around for a bit, mostly in acclaimed independent films and smaller-budget productions, but this was his first major nomination and the public had really latched onto his performance in a subtle psychological thriller.
Osamu, on the other hand, had a long list of commercially successful films under his belt.
He and Atsumu had come up as child stars, though now they’d settled into their own respective lanes.
Atsumu did more of the big-budget action and superhero movies, while Osamu had just wrapped a well-received war drama by the time he met Keiji, and had a solid romantic drama lined up for the fall.
Keiji too, had a slew of top-tier projects coming up after the awards circuit. In fact, he’d recently booked a big project abroad, in London, that Osamu knew was everything he’d ever dreamed about and would require his presence for the next four months.
That’s where he jetted off to right after he smashed Osamu’s heart after six months of dating.
Osamu recently caught photos of Akaashi post-shoot in Italy, where his production had been filming some supplemental scenes.
Akaashi was out for dinner with his co-star, some beautiful young actress making the transition from theater, and though the paparazzi photos were grainy in the darkness of the night, the smiles on each of their faces were still clear and wide.
Even though Osamu knows rationally that there’s a negative chance that Keiji is interested in her–
He still feels awful looking at the photo.
++
Two torturous months after their break-up, he hears from Keiji again for the first time.
They decide to meet for coffee, since Keiji wants to talk, and Osamu isn’t sure he can really stomach meeting Keiji somewhere private for the first time since their break-up.
He’s pretty sure he would throw himself at his feet and beg him to take him back if given the chance, so better not to risk it.
Aran is the only person he tells about the meeting, and it turns out to be a good idea.
Aran suggests a new cafe this time, one with “very tall hedges”, he notes, and Osamu even overhears him call in and give the staff a heads-up that he and Akaashi are coming.
It’s probably for the better – Osamu’s pretty sure his team had him banned from the last cafe he cried at.
Still, it’s a shock to his system to see Keiji again, and the moment that their waiter sets down their order and disappears back inside, leaving the two of them truly alone, Osamu is doubtful that he can make it through this in one piece.
Keiji looks up at him hesitantly, finished folding his napkin delicately across his lap.
“Hi Osamu,” he says, reaching for his coffee cup and pulling it closer to his side. “How have you been?”
Osamu blinks, and only momentarily thinks about saying something other than the truth, but nothing else runs through his brain.
“Bad,” he says straight out, and Keiji’s eyes go wide.
“M’sorry,” he follows up immediately, still physically repulsed by the idea of upsetting Keiji in any way. It’s second nature to him at this point. “It’s just– I’ve just – been wondering why it all happened. Tryin’ to figure it out.”
Osamu stirs his tea, tearing his eyes away from Keiji’s. His throat feels thick.
“I just thought, ya know – maybe I’d been too stiflin’. Or that I couldn’t keep up with yer ambitions, that I was too commercial like they said. Or maybe we were a mismatch from the start–”
“Jesus Osamu, how many tabloid headlines have you read?” Akaashi interrupts.
“All of ‘em,” Osamu says miserably, eyes beginning to water.
“Can ya blame me?” he asks, looking up at Keiji again. “It’s like ya just woke up one day and decided ya didn’t love me anymore.”
And oh god, now he’s actually crying again.
Keiji’s eyes are bulging out of his skull.
“My god, Osamu,” Keiji gets out, head swiveling from side to side furtively as he looks around for any hidden members of the press. “Our publicists are going to kill us.”
Osamu laughs wetly, and he’s pretty sure he hears the distant snap of a camera somewhere.
“Sorry, I can’t really help it.”
Keiji stands up, dropping an indiscriminate amount of money on the table before he hauls Osamu out of his chair too.
“Let’s get out of here.”
++
They make it to Osamu’s apartment, his doorman putting on the most impressive poker face he’s ever seen at the sight of Akaashi trailing in after Osamu, when finally they’re all alone in his hallway.
Keiji puts his back against the door after he slams it, breathing hard and arms splayed out as if someone were about to barrel in behind them.
Osamu just stands in his own hallway looking back at him, heart heavy.
Keiji’s breathing evens out after a moment.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of Akaashi’s mouth.
“For what,” Osamu says numbly.
“For breaking up with you.”
Osamu’s chest cracks, feeling the back of his eyes begin to prickle once more.
“What?”
“I’m sorry for breaking up with you,” Akaashi repeats, looking equally as affected for once. “I miss you. I miss you – so much. That’s what I was going to say at lunch today.”
Osamu blinks, rendered speechless for a moment.
“You were gonna tell me that at lunch today and expected me not to cry? Akaashi–”
“I–”
Osamu interrupts him, voice slightly shaky with confused hurt, and hesitant longing.
“I thought ya didn’t want to be with me anymore. Not with yer project and all the traveling and–”
“Fuck the project,” Akaashi says, exasperated, hands coming up to run through his hair. “Apparently they’re not even sure if all of the funding will actually come through yet–”
“Oh. That’s a proble–”
“And then we did a table read a few months ago when I first got there, and all I could think about was how much I missed talking to you everyday.”
“Keiji,” Osamu pleads. “You aren’t going to help me stop cryin’ like this.”
“I know I thought the distance and the pressure would do us in,” Akaashi says, tone regretful. “And when the offers for joint photo shoots started rolling in I just thought it was all too fast too soon. And that was unfair to you.”
Osamu doesn’t respond.
“And now I’m so far away, filming a project I’d always dreamed about – and I could only wish that you were by my side too,” Akaashi says, the ends of his mouth beginning to wobble.
“Osamu, if you’ll have me back–”
“Yes.”
Akaashi inhales a sharp breath.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” Osamu repeats resolutely.
Atsumu and Suna are definitely going to get on his ass about this.
Aran will understand.
“The answer was always gonna be yes, Keiji. I still love ya so mu–”
Akaashi interrupts him with a kiss.
“I love you too,” Akaashi says, hands on either side of Osamu’s face and Osamu feels dizzy. “How do you feel about coming back to London with me? At least for a week or two? I know it’s inconvenient but–”
Osamu’s nodding before he even realizes it, hands coming around to circle around Akaashi’s waist.
Akaashi smiles, expression tender as he looks at Osamu.
“Good. We have to get ahead of the allegations that I’m an asshole that made you cry at a cafe again–”
Osamu lets out a laugh.
“–and how about Paris for a weekend? There’s this bakery that I’ve been to with this very delicious chocolate croissant and–”
“Yes. Yes Keiji, yes. Whatever you want–”
Akaashi just beams.