Archive of Our Own ^beta

There were some moments of spotlight that made him freeze, but he wasn’t even under the bright lights when time seemed to stop for a moment. In front of him was a beauty—the beauty of a wild animal shining on the stage that was set a foot above him. A white leopard with a dangling red earring hit by theater lights. His hands were buried deep in his pockets. The soft white locks of his hair—wavy fur. How was he, someone who was so plain, standing on the same set as someone like him? He was stooping low beneath what he deserved. A mountain would have been a more fit place. Ruling it. Not standing here with the other man who barely had a record to his name.

It was when he had been in public out with Seishu, the young adult who he took in as his own years back. The two were out and about doing some shopping. Seishu was trying to throw snacks in the cart while the plain man hadn’t been keeping his eyes on him, which the blonde was successful for the most part until the overfilling cart was something that could not go unnoticed.

“Really?”

“Come on, Shin. I need my fuel.”

Nickname: Shin. Name: Shinichiro. Full name: Sano Shinichiro. Twenty-eight years old. Three siblings: Izana, Mikey, Emma—in that order. Children: a lot if you counted all of the lost young children he supported and who looked up to him, but specifically one Inui Seishu who moved in with him. Shinichiro was working to be somebody famous. Somebody with his name plated on something.

“How much shit did you put into the cart, Inupi?” Shinichiro began to inspect the store cart. Bags of chips, a case of ramen in different flavors, gummy worms, a tropical candy from another country. “Jesus.”

“Excuse me!” Shinichiro never had time to fight with Seishu nor did Seishu have the time to defend himself. A man sped walk up to the two. He had on a suit that looked too fancy for a trip to the grocery store and lead filled in the tips of his shiny, black pointed shoes. “You are so beautifully average looking.” Body still, Shinichiro had no response because what was he supposed to say to that? He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult or some act of passive aggression. But Seishu snorted a laugh.

“I’ve told him that before,” the blonde commented.

“I wanted to catch you before you left,” the man said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. It was like the movies. Seishu was intrigued. “I was complaining to a coworker about needing a plain looking guy for a show, and somebody told me about you. You were the perfect actor that fit my description.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘actor’. More like failed theater kid,” Seishu muttered.

“Seishu,” Shinichiro hissed as a warning. Would he stop talking? His long fingers pinched around the card and took it from the man. Being handed someone’s business information on a small piece of paper from the suit of a jacket was a whole new feeling. He returned his attention to the business stranger in front of him. “So, I call?”

The man nodded. “If you’re wanting a role, we’ll give one to you. Be sure to think about it soon then,” he said, and he walked away. Shinichiro watched him leave, watched how the suit of his jacket didn’t move much on his shoulders because it was tailored to the man’s exact fit. Oh, how must fitting clothes felt? Shinichiro wanted to know so badly, but he never had enough money to get a suit professionally made for him. And he was never that important.

His fingers folded around the card as he moved his hand to his pocket to safely place it in his jeans. “Let’s go, Inupi,” he muttered still stunned by the interaction. And Seishu grinned and pushed the cart to the checkout. At least he got all his snacks.

A persistent tapping was on his shoulder. It started to dig hard into his side, and Shinichiro glanced over. The finger stopped while pressed against him. He met eyes with a pair of green eyes behind long blonde lashes, one side stained with a burn mark.

“Pay attention,” Seishu said.

Shinichiro returned his attention to reality. The ‘what’ instead of the ‘how’ he got to where he was. He didn’t know when he had gotten there, but there was a man standing in front of him. Another man in a tailored suit and a face of importance glued on.

“Sano Shinichiro, yes? This way for a quick hair and makeup. We have a script for you to read while you’re getting ready so you know what you’re doing today.”

While Shinichiro got ready, Seishu helped himself to the free on-stage snacks. Cheeses and crackers. Chips and dips. Shinichiro was in the back in a different room with a woman behind him doing his hair and another woman in front of him adding a base of makeup. He had been handed a thick pack of paper with a ton of dialogue, and scenes, and side information on characters.

Shinichiro hardly got the chance to read anything further in the script. There was a man with a headphone set and a clipboard standing in front of him but out of the makeup artists’ way as he was explaining to Shinichiro what was going to take place that day. He was to go on the stage after getting ready and run through the first introduction scene to test how him and the other actor got along—the white leopard.

“We want to experience your natural chemistry,” a manager pushed him along with a hand placed on his back. He shoved him down the long hallway with rooms that had plated titles on the wall. Room 117 Sound Room. Shinichiro read them quickly as he was ushered down.

The double doors swung, and the gust of wind hit Shinichiro with an anxious feeling. Suddenly, the noise of his shoes hitting on the floors was louder than when he dropped a pan lid at three in the morning and woke up Seishu—which was a disaster that Shinichiro did not want to think about.

The tennis shoes suffocated his feet. He wore a usual gym attire. His character, Suzuki Ren, was an athletic trainer at a gym part time while being a college student, and his roommate, Jun Wakahiko, was the exact opposite of him. While Ren was supposed to be an energetic and a happy-going character, Wakahiko was quiet and reserved. They were meant to be opposites in every sense of the way, but it was what made them fit perfectly together because they filled in for what each other lacked—at least that was what the explanation in the pamphlet Shinichiro had been handed said.

So, he wore something that he normally didn’t wear because Shinichiro was not a gym person. Meanwhile, his possible new acting partner wore black sweats and an oversized sweater. The drawstrings were uneven. Maybe it was perfect that his own hair was black and the other’s hair was white. It played into the symbol that they were opposites. Like a yin and yang, Shinichiro thought, but he stopped thinking about it. With the white leopard standing in front of him it was hard to think of how they were physically fitting the roles perfectly because it was hard to think because he was gorgeous. But Shinichiro couldn’t afford to get distracted. He was an actor after all. Oh, am I? Shinichiro was filled with nothing but doubt sometimes.

Everything about the scene was real, apart from the names. My name is Suzuki Ren, Shinichiro told himself, and his fingers curled, nails dug into his palms sliding against the sweat. At least the sweat looked normal, his disheveled look fitting the character because Suzuki Ren was returning from a workout. He had the prop of a duffle in his hand.

“ACTION.”

And he moved. Shinichiro grabbed the golden door handle which he could feel was actually made out of wood now that he was gripping and turning it. Of course, it was designed to look nice to match the semi-expensive, fake apartment set up where Shinichiro would now spend most his time in front of. Potentially. If he didn’t mess it up.

He stepped into the scene. And the white leopard actor stood up from the couch quickly. The hoodie was drawn over his head. He looked Shinichiro up and down—or was it Ren that he was looking at? Regardless, he let out a small scoff and moved around the couch. The set up of the room forced him to step closer to Shinichiro to get past.

“Did you just get out of the gym or something?” Stoic. Unimpressed. Cold. His eyebrows were knitted sharply in a way that made Shinichiro’s stomach sink because everything felt so unwelcoming.

To Ren. Of course, Shinichiro remembered, he’s speaking to Ren. And now it was time for his line. He cleared his throat and set down the duffle bag that was stuffed with hard paper to make it appear filled.

“Yeah,” Shinichiro answered as Ren. “Is it that obvious?” He was supposed to be a character with jokes and lighthearted conversation, so Shinichiro took a small step forward and spread his arms out to show his outfit. Basketball shorts and a tank top. He added a light grin to his face. A cheeky smile. “Suzuki Ren,” he tried to introduce his character.

Wakasa gave him a psh with the cold shoulder. “Jun Wakahiko,” he muttered, and then he nicked up his shoulders and didn’t give Shinichiro another word as he walked to another door. Wakasa stepped through it closing it harshly behind him. He played the role of a rude man well. But of course, he did. He was an amazing actor after all. Shinichiro frowned and tapped the duffel bag he had set down with his foot. Then he picked it up and headed to a door next to the one Wakasa had gone through.

On the other side after he had closed the door was the white leopard. He had dropped the hoodie and was looking over toward Shinichiro. The two met eyes. Piercing purple eyes—how? How did they look like that? Shinichiro thought they were beautiful, though that made them dangerous because he couldn’t pull himself away from them, sharp crystals of amethyst.

“CUT.”

It made Shinichiro jump slightly. But he pursed his lips and stepped back through the door. The man with the headset brought it down to rest on his shoulders as he walked over to the stage’s edge.

“That was wonderful, you two!” He announced. Shinichiro glanced over his shoulder to catch eye of Wakasa following along. “I can spot the chemistry. I don’t even want to send you home right now, I want to keep shooting.” He suddenly flinched and took a peek over his shoulder. A woman with a scowl glared at him in the back of the head while tapping her toe. “Though my wife says it’ll be a good idea to send you two on home,” he said with a nervous laugh. “You two can clean up and head home. We’ll call with a schedule. I want more of you two.”

He knew enough what hallway to head down having walked it before. Though they did have to remind him of what dressing room had been given to him. Room 129. Empty plate by the door. He changed out into his normal clothes. Jeans, a black v neck with a deep cut, and his old leather jacket that held the faint smell of an auto shop. It probably didn’t matter, someone would clean it, but he made sure he left the room how he found it, maybe better.

The job was his. With the white leopard. Shinichiro would be working with somebody who was well-known. He had only done two other shows, but Wakasa already had tons of fans. It made Shinichiro feel nervous and like his gut was taking a brutal hit.

“Ready?”

Shinichiro jumped. Oh. Seishu. He tried to play off how Seishu had scared him a little. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Finally,” Seishu muttered with an irritated tone as if he hadn’t been eating snack after snack from the complimentary food sitting out. The blonde picked up a slice of cheese and popped it into his mouth, but when he turned back to Shinichiro, he froze.

“What, are you lactose?” Shinichiro teased because why did Seishu suddenly look so surprised? Was there something on his face?

“Hey.”

Oh. Seishu had froze because the white leopard was standing right behind Shinichiro. He was prey. Shinichiro began to sweat again, the hairs on the back of his neck standing when the other’s smooth voice hit his ears. How did it hear to him? Shinichiro’s best explanation was a silky blanket.

But the last thing he wanted to do was fuck up growing a connection with the wild animal, so Shinichiro spun around to meet his eyes. A bite. If eyes had teeth, they sunk into his skin. The white leopard had a stick in his mouth, one that belonged to a candy sucker. It shifted around in his mouth from the left corner to the right.

“Imaushi Wakasa,” he said. “Sorry, never properly introduced myself, but we never had the chance.”

“Sano Shinichiro,” Shinichiro quickly said. Nervously. The worlds fumbled out of his mouth like he tripped running a marathon. It made Seishu laugh. He slapped him on the shoulder. Hard.

“Chasing after that name. Calm down, man,” Seishu teased.

It made Wakasa smile. Wakasa. Smile. A small hint of a grin on his face. Not enough to show his teeth, but Shinichiro wanted to see his canines flash if not for a second.

Wakasa handed him a pack of stapled papers. “Our script for our next job,” he explained. “In case you want to study your lines before cramming them during hair and makeup.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Shinichiro softly said. And Wakasa nodded, gave the two a wave, and left the building.

Evil, evil. Seishu was evil. Grinning widely right next to him, nudging him with his elbow, snickering quietly to himself about the whole situation. It was easy to act, but at the same time it was impossible for Shinichiro to hide how nervous he could get. The White Leopard. Shinichiro needed something to drink.

He gave a light slap to Seishu’s shoulder to make him get moving. “Let’s get out of here. I need enough time to make dinner.”

Black socks, feet kicked up on the sofa, heels pressing into the middle cushion of the couch. Shinichiro had the script in his hand with his eyes scanning over line after line of dialogue. He was reading straight through, which was a lot of papers, but it was mostly conversation.

The relationship between Ren and Wakahiko was noticeably getting stronger and stronger. He was past reading through the first season, halfway through the second. The two roommates would go out to eat, and the once introverted Jun Wakahiko was laughing and drinking wine on a bridge with Ren. And suddenly, everything began to feel different. Even Shinichiro began to slow down while he was reading. His bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, and he chewed the skin off. Ouch.

They kissed. Ren and Wakahiko would kiss three quarters into the second season. At first, it flew over Shinichiro’s head, but then he started thinking about it harder. If they kiss that means…

“What’cha—oh, a kiss.”

The paper nearly tore under the grip in his hand. He jumped, fingers quickly curling around the delicate pages. Dammit, Inupi. It was Shinichiro’s fault for being so locked in his mind while reading, but he would never tell the blonde that he scared him. He was sure Seishu knew anyway, though he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“What? Yeah,” Shinichiro tried to play off as if he wasn’t nervous. It’s at the end of the second season. I don’t need to freak out about this right now.

Seishu’s face was stuck with a grin. His forearms rested on the back of the couch so he could get a good angle on the paper in Shinichiro’s hand and intrude his space. Behind him walking out of the kitchen was a tall figure carrying food and a glass. He approached them and took a drink of the water while trying to quickly catch up on the conversation.

“When did you get here?” Shinichiro questioned. He knew that Seishu was home, obviously, but he had no clue when the other decided to drop by.

“I’ve been here for like thirty minutes.”

“Draken is quiet,” Seishu said with a shrug, “but enough about him. You get to kiss your actor crush.”

“‘Actor crush’—for a scene, Inupi. It’s a job,” Shinichiro fought, but he couldn’t deny there was a dropping feeling in his gut thinking about the white leopard. His lips. Perfect. He had stared at them before to pick up the facial expressions he would make while acting and got lost in how appealing they looked. His face was getting hot.

“Leave him alone, Inupi,” Draken said, which was a nickname for him as ‘Inupi’ was a nickname for ‘Inui’. Ryuuguji Ken. He was a year younger than Seishu but a hell of a lot more mature. As tall as Shinichiro—something past a hundred eighty centimeters—long hair that he dyed black a few months back with the sides shaven, one side revealing the tattoo of a dragon. He was a good influence on Seishu. Though he told him to stop stealing ages ago Shinichiro was glad that Ken was the person Seishu tried to pick pocket years ago and got beaten with kindness.

“Party killer,” Seishu muttered standing up straight. “We’ll be in my room in case you want to cave in and gush about this little love you’ve got,” he said while walking away. “But knock three times,” he quickly added. “I’m feeling frisky tonight.”

“Go,” Ken hissed.

A big part of his character was a man that he was not. Somebody who frequently attended the gym. Shinichiro wasn’t even sure if he had the clothes for being physically active. He didn’t even try looking. The man dropped by the nearest athletic dominated store and pick up stuff to wear. He didn’t know what he was grabbing. How did he know which was good spandex and what wasn’t? Should he wear some under his shorts? He got some anyway.

A duffle bag rested on his shoulders with a pair of brand-new gym shoes. There was a new water bottle siting in there with iced water. A couple of headbands that came in a pack, but he hadn’t put one on yet because he didn’t know how stupid that he would look with it. He wore a pair of basketball shorts and black t shirt that still smelled like the sports store. Which was an opposite smell of what the gym smelled like. Week old socks that needed to be burned instead of washed because they were too far gone. There weren’t enough women in there, so the room was taken over by the specific odor of sweaty men.

He was nervous walking through. So many tall, beefy, well-built men who clearly spent a lot of their time there. They lifted weights that would make Shinichiro back up in fear with a nervous laugh while coming up with an excuse as to why he couldn’t lift something that heavy. ‘Oh, my wrist has been aching for a couple of days.’ Something like that. But he paused near some equipment that Shinichiro didn’t know the name of, but it looked as if you changed the weight to your preference and pulled the two rods toward your chest. Past that, there was a familiar face in the gym.

Imaushi Wakasa, the white leopard. He was standing there in shorts with a pair of men’s leggings underneath and a white t-shirt with a long sleeve that Shinichiro was guessing were for compression—he had read that somewhere online, and yes, he had no idea what they really were. The white-haired man had a sweatband on his wrist. His hair was tied back into a ponytail, but his hair was too short to gather all of it, so half of it was up ad half of it was down. A water bottle was in his hand while he leaned an elbow on some of the equipment and spoke with a man who was far taller than him and even taller than Shinichiro.

Friendly, he thought to himself. ‘Be friendly, not weird,’ was probably some advice that Seishu would give him. It would be weird if Shinichiro knew Wakasa was there and didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath before approaching the wild animal.

Wakasa noticed him when he started to make his way over. His normally half-closed eyelids opened a little more for a moment in surprise before returning to normal. He shifted his weight off the workout equipment and stood up straight in attention.

“Sano,” Wakasa said. It caused his taller friend to glance over his shoulder. He had a scowl on his face, knitted eyebrows, but Shinichiro could tell that he was harmless. There was something in his eyes that told Shinichiro he was a giant teddy bear. “What are you doing here?” The white leopard asked.

“Well, I wanted to get some experience so I can play my role better,” Shinichiro honestly said. He placed down the duffle bag that sat on his shoulder next to his feet. “So, here I am.”

“You’ve never been to a gym before?” Wakasa questioned. His arms crossed over his chest, and he had a grin on his face as if he was teasing Shinichiro. And he was, but Shinichiro was used to constant pestering from a certain someone who lived with him.

“I’ve never needed to,” Shinichiro said. “Why didn’t you take on my role then?” Why wouldn’t he have? He looked like he frequently came to the gym, so why wouldn’t he want the role that he would have experience with?

“They wanted me for Wakahiko, not Ren,” Wakasa explained.  “Ironic though.”

“Do you come to the gym a lot?” Shinichiro asked.

Wakasa punched the taller man in the chest. It seemed harsh, especially the noise. That made Shinichiro cringe. Would he even be able to stand after that punch? “Benkei owns this place,” Wakasa said.

“Arashi Keizo,” Benkei introduced. “Benkei is fine,” he said.

“Sano Shinichiro.” He shook Benkei’s hand. It was cold and suffocating. His hand had to be nearly twice the size of his own. “Have you known each other a long time?” Shinichiro asked.

“Since gangs,” Benkei said. It made Wakasa quickly look over at his friend. He glared at him, eyes shooting him a look that was threatening to cut Benkei to Wakasa’s own level, which was maybe a good fifteen centimeters, probably more. Though Benkei never felt much when it came to deal with pain because of his high tolerance, so he didn’t notice the white leopard glaring at him.

“Gangs?” Shinichiro questioned.

“Yeah—” Benkei went to say, but Wakasa hit him in the gut. He kneeled over a bit and a small oawf noise slipped his lips. “I mean,” he began to say, “like just our clique back at—” a small pause and a glance over at Wakasa, “college?”

“Yes, college,” Wakasa agreed with a nod. The whole exchange was confusing and suspicious. What was going on? But Benkei started up a new conversation before Shinichiro could think further on it.

“I can teach you around a gym,” the giant said.

And Shinichiro was far more than grateful. Somebody who owned a gym to teach him one. What better teacher could he ask for? “Thanks.”

By the next time that Shinichiro is meant to act on stage he can’t. Or he can, but it hurts. His entire body ached with an overwhelming pain. Sore. Working at the gym made his body so sore. He hadn’t thought that he was that out of shape, but fuck, was he struggling to walk?

It was hard for him to step into the clothes for the scene. He felt like a line of standing dominos that would collapse at the slightest inconvenience. But he pushed himself through the pain. He was used to pain after all.

Just get through this. Get through this and then enjoy a nice, hot bath. Shinichiro took a deep breath waiting behind the fake front door.

“ACTION.”

He turned the handle and stepped in. Wakasa was waiting in the spot he was supposed to. They had a small, round kitchen table with two chairs. A folded chair was leaning against the wall in case their characters had guests over. Wakasa sat in Wakahiko’s usual spot with a textbook in front of him and a pencil in his hand. The white leopard’s eyes watched Shinichiro carefully as the other actor walked into the fake apartment and closed the door behind him.

By now his character, Ren, knew about Wakasa’s character, Wakahiko, and his tendency to be quiet and observant, so Shinichiro gave a small sigh when Wakasa didn’t have a line to ask where he had been and instead made his way over to the couch.

He crashed down on the sofa. A groan escaped his lips without him being able to stop it. It hurt. But it wasn’t in the script. Wakasa raised an eyebrow because he knew, but he huffed through his nose and improvised.

“What was that about?” Wakasa asked as Wakahiko. The people off set watching, the managers, the directors, picked up on them going off script, but they let them continue the scene.

“Sore,” Shinichiro said. “The gym is hard.” His own personal opinion, but the audience would pick it up as an over exaggeration that Wakasa’s character would harmonize with. Wakasa scoffed. He closed the textbook that was on the table and picked it up.

“That’s why the gym sucks,” Wakasa muttered before heading to the room that was meant to be his.

“CUT.”

Shinichiro could always relax when he knew that the cameras were off. He sunk further into the couch. His bones were killing him.

“A little bit of improvision, we like it,” the headset man said. Shinichiro needed to learn his name or else it would be awkward and difficult getting through the time working with him. He received emails and messages, of course, but they weren’t from anybody working on the set with him every day. “You two did amazing. Beautiful chemistry.”

“Done for the day?” Wakasa questioned. He walked back out from where he had gone off the set before. His hand was in his pocket fiddling around. There was a sucker he pulled out, and he tugged on the wrapped before placing the candy against his tongue. Him and suckers—what was that about?

The man nodded. “Yes, thank you two.”

A month of the show being on air. That meant that the two had gone a month working with each other. The show was doing great so far. Lots of people were interested in the series and watching it, falling in love with the characters and the story. So, people began to recognize the white leopard more and more, especially since he was on an ongoing show.

Wakasa still wanted to spend his time at the gym. He hid inside of his coat, hoodie pulled over, and walked alongside Benkei while they made their way down the sidewalk.

They slipped into the gym owned by Benkei. The air conditioning felt nice. Especially when Wakasa was finally able to move the hoodie off his head. But then he immediately tugged it back over. He grabbed ahold of Benkei’s arm and dragged him to the back. An office that Benkei had. And even though there was a desk back there with papers and work, there were still a few weights.

Wakasa closed the door behind them and set down his duffle. He sighed and moved to the weights Benkei kept in there for himself.

“What was that about?” Benkei questioned.

“Sano was out there.”

Benkei raised an eyebrow. He watched as the white leopard effortlessly curled the weight. How could someone be so small yet so strong? “Do you even like Sano?” He questioned his friend. That bought Wakasa’s attention. His arm slowed down a little, and he frowned. The sucker stick in his mouth curved downwards.

“I do,” Wakasa said because he wasn’t going to lie to Benkei. After spending years being friends with him, he knew that it was pointless. And he did like Shinichiro. “He’s a good actor and for improv,” he explained.

“But?” Benkei asked because there was always something more. The way that Wakasa chewed his lip told that.

“But there’s something about him,” Wakasa said. He knew it the moment that Shinichiro had stepped on the same stage with him. There was a presence that he had himself, he knew that. The White Leopard was what people called him, and he thought the title was something to boast about—though he never would. But there was something about Shinichiro.

“Like what?”

Wakasa couldn’t put his finger on it. “I’m not sure.”

“You’ve been working with him for a month,” Benkei deadpanned. ‘Shouldn’t you have figured out by now?’ was the words that Benkei basically said but didn’t.

“Shut up, Benkei,” Wakasa muttered. He placed the weights back down on the stand where they belonged. Fight. He wanted to fight. Throw a punch, take him back to when he was in gangs. Sometimes he needed it. Benkei didn’t understand. He had stayed connected, but Wakasa left the idea entirely. “Let’s fight.”

The boxing stage in the back, which was set up separately from the main gym, so Wakasa was comfortable out in the open without having to worry about Shinichiro. Benkei had never been told why Wakasa really wanted to be away from Shinichiro, but to be fair, he never properly asked. So, he rolled up his sleeves and stepped into the ring with his white-haired opponent.

Wakasa cracked his neck. Then he grabbed onto the sucker stick in his mouth. His teeth crunched down on the hard candy turning it into crumbles and dust laying on his tongue. He tossed the stick to the side.

“Ready?” Benkei asked.

“No one is going to ask me if I’m ready in a real fight, Benkei,” Wakasa said with an amused laugh. “If you take it easy on me, I’ll kill you.”

 “Note taken.”

They always fought fairly. If Wakasa punched Benkei square in the jaw, there was no stopping to check if he was okay. They kept going. A left hook, a swing, a punch, a kick. Wakasa was good with using the ring wires to throw himself around, which he was already fast and hard to catch as it was. Benkei truly had a disadvantage being such a large target.

The fights usually ended when Benkei could land a hit on Wakasa, which they were on the same level, so their fights carried on for far too long, but if Wakasa was hit then that meant he was getting slower which meant he was finally getting tired. Against Benkei that time always seemed so much longer than any other fight, but that was simply because Benkei was his only true challenge.

So, when Wakasa felt a fist hit him in the jaw and his back knock against the wires, he let his body bounce off it and get tossed to the ground. Enough of this, he thought when his chest slammed onto the floor.

“Waka—shit.” Benkei normally didn’t care to Wakasa, but he had slammed into the floor hard. For a moment, he was afraid the other suffered a concussion. But Wakasa was fine. He held up a hand to let the other know he was alright as he sat up on the floor.

“I’m fine, Benkei—god, that hurts like a bitch.” Wakasa hated pain. He was not used to getting hit; he was not used to tolerating. His hand rubbed his chin carefully which only seemed to make the ache worse. Benkei hit him hard. “I let myself fall. I could have held my ground.”

“Shit.”

“Benkei, I said I was fine—”

“No, yeah, I get that, but you have a giant bruise forming on your face right now.”

“What?!” That hurt. Wakasa slapped his own jaw which only cause it to prickle and sting. “Benkei, my face is my money.”

“Make up?”

“Go get me ice,” Wakasa ordered. There was an ice machine at the gym for drinks and injuries. Benkei nodded and left to go get a bag. While he did Wakasa sat there having nothing to do but soak in the pain. It was going to be a fun afternoon.

The overwhelming bruise on his face would not go unnoticed. He didn’t try with makeup himself because he knew the makeup artists would want to take over. So, Wakasa stepped into the set building fully ready to watch everyone’s reaction when the white leopard showed up with a disgusting purple, black, and blue mark on his chin.

There were the expected gasps, and the ‘Imaushi, what happened?!’, and of course the questioning if he was okay or not. But he waved them all off and told them he was alright because he was. It only hurt if he spoke too much or touched it.

“Just cover it up and I’ll be good,” Wakasa told them. So, they worked on it for a bit longer than usual. The lady took her time because she didn’t want to hurt him. He was internally thankful for because God he hated pain. Wakasa read over the script for that day while he was getting ready.

And his heart stopped because Shinichiro was supposed to what now?

‘Ren slaps/lightly taps Wakahiko on the face.’ Wakasa groaned, Are you kidding me? But what was he going to do? Say no? Have the show go on break because he had a minor injury? He’d pretend it didn’t hurt. Wakasa was an actor after all.

They were getting ready to begin to scene. Shinichiro was there in joggers and a black t shirt which Wakasa had to admit he looked good in. It seemed it was a lazy lounge day for his character. Ren. Who would then want to get up and do something, so he would ask Wakahiko to join him. Wakasa took a deep breath which he always did, but not everyone noticed that even the white leopard had to prepare himself.

“Hey, Imaushi.” Wakasa paused. He was about ready to sit himself on the couch where his character has created to be his normal spot. Shinichiro stopped him from moving though, and Wakasa raised an eyebrow at him. “Were they serious about the bruise?” Right. Shinichiro didn’t get to see it before they covered it with makeup.

“Yeah,” Wakasa said, “but it’s fine. Give me your best shot.” Or your weakest. Shinichiro didn’t look too sold. Wakasa watched close as the black-haired man pursed his lips with hesitation but nodded.

“ACTION.”

Shinichiro, who sat at the table, let out a groan to begin the scene. His character, Ren, let his head drop and his neck rest on the back of the chair. He tapped his teeth together, dribbled his fingers on the table, tapped his foot—all things to show a slight sign of boredom before he looked over at where Wakasa sat.

“Jun, hey,” Shinichiro spoke as Ren. He stood up from his chair and took long strides over to the couch. Wakasa noticed he walked how the men in the gym typically did. Shinichiro took notes. It almost made Wakasa smile. Thank God it hurt to or he might have broken character. “I have an idea.”

Wakasa was not allowed to visibly glance up from th magazine that leaned against his legs which were drawn up so that he could curl onto a single couch cushion. Instead, he flipped the page and kept his expression the same—something of boredom and being unamused.

“And what is that?” Wakasa asked. Shinichiro plastered a grin on his face. It was cute, but Wakasa wondered what a real smile looked like because it wasn’t Sano Shinichiro looking at him but this Suzuki Ren character.

“Come to the gym with me.”

Wakasa laughed. It was the first time his character did. Shinichiro was meant to pause and stare, get lost in the sound of Wakasa’s voice. And he did. The black-haired man stared at Wakasa for a bit. There was a small gap between his lips. Could Shinichiro sweat on command? He was acting as if Wakasa was something of a Medusa. Acting. He was acting. Right?

Shinichiro pursed his lips quickly, cleared his throat so quietly that Wakasa wasn’t sure if the microphone had even picked it up, and then frowned. “Why are you laughing?” Shinichiro continued.

“I’m not going to the gym.” Acting or not, the scene was moving. And Shinichiro bit on the inside of his cheek. He was showing his character was thinking. Deep thought. He turned his head like a confused puppy, which Wakasa had to thank his bruise once again for stopping him from smiling because he wanted to seeing Shinichiro make that face, not Ren. The black-haired man began to tap his finger against his arm. “What?” Wakasa asked.

And that was when Shinichiro reached over and slapped him. It was light, but it was still fast enough to look like it was going to hurt like hell. Wakasa flinched. It did hurt. A stinging pain. But he had to keep acting or Shinichiro was going to have to slap him again if they had to repeat the scene. This had to be a one time run through.

“What the hell?!” Wakasa shouted, and it ached his jaw to speak that loudly. His hand babied over his chin with the bruise as he sat up on the couch. The magazine that had been sitting in his lap was now discarded to the floor.

“See? If that hurt, you have to be insanely weak. I barely hit you!” Shinichiro said while laughing. He walked away back to the table. Wakasa sat on the couch on his knees staring at Shinichiro. The other kept laughing. What was that like? Wind chimes? No. That was too sweet. Wakasa was still struggling to figure out what the special presence that Shinichiro gave off was. The smooth sound of metal running against each other from a moving train against the tracks? “Jun?”

Wakasa jumped, but it wasn’t enough to show that he, the white leopard and not Jun Wakahiko, was caught off guard. He cleared his throat and snagged up the fallen magazine.

“Leave me alone about the gym,” Wakasa muttered, “and don’t touch me,” he said. It hadn’t been in the script, but Wakasa lost where they were on the pages. He forgot. Looking at Shinichiro made him forget everything that he had prepared himself for before the scene started. Wakahiko probably wouldn’t return to his room after it. Their characters had grown closer regardless of the small fight they had. It wasn’t even really a fight. So, Wakasa returned to his spot on the couch with his back to Shinichiro.

“CUT.”

Wakasa let out a quiet sigh. He tossed the magazine onto the prop table and moved to stand back up. Every part of him wanted to at least get to his dressing room so he could stare at himself in the mirror and ask himself what was wrong with him. But he was stopped when there were hands carefully cradling his face. Rough hands but smooth motions of a thumb rubbing on his cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

“Wha—” Wakasa froze. Shinichiro was standing in front of his with his hands on his face. Close. Super close—enough to have Shinichiro’s breath hitting him. It smelled of jerky and cigarettes. Did Shinichiro smoke? His skin, now that Wakasa was standing this close to him, didn’t look it. Clear and porcelain almost, but a faint line of a scar was on his chin that Wakasa noticed. His eyes were incredibly dark but staring at that distance and Wakasa could see the brown tint.

“I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

Seriously? Wakasa almost laughed. “I’m fine, Sano.”

“Shinichiro,” Shinichiro corrected, and his hands slipped from Wakasa’s face. His cheeks still felt warm even when Shinichiro removed them. Maybe his face was getting hot. Who could blame him when the black-haired man had been so close to him?

“Shinichiro, I’m alright,” Wakasa said. From the corner of his eye, he could see their director watching them. Wakasa cleared his throat and took a step back, but he was still trapped in the setup of the living room between the couch, the coffee table, and Shinichiro. “If you could—”

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Shinichiro muttered. “Sorry.”

A new section of script was in Shinichiro’s hands. He leaned on the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He had taught Seishu not to do it when the other was a lot younger, but he caved in when he found out it was a good way to kick back and relax after years of stress build up from taking care of children.

From behind him, someone reached over and held out a plate. Of food. Rice with steam rising off it and a side of cauliflower and broccoli with seasonings. He looked over his shoulder to see the blonde he lived with. The black-haired man cocked an eyebrow. Seishu could not cook. And then he noticed who was in the kitchen and everything made sense. He sighed and tilted his head back farther.

“You don’t have to cook for him, Draken!” Shinichiro called out.

Seishu frowned. “He cooked for you too, asshole.” He pulled the plate back. “Fine. I’ll eat two servings.”

“Give him the food,” Ken said while walking in with another plate. Shinichiro snagged the dish from Seishu. He didn’t want Ken cooking for him. It was his house after all and Shinichiro was used to making food for everyone, but he wasn’t going to turn down a damn good meal. Ken handed Seishu a new plate of food. “Yours,” he said before heading back into the kitchen.

Shinichiro waited until Ken was gone. “He’s a good kid.”

“I know,” Seishu said with a sigh and a smile curved on his lips while he glanced over into the kitchen where Ken was. A dreamy look in his eyes. Shinichiro didn’t see it much, especially from a kid like Seishu. He was typically blunt and straightforward, and he never let his soft emotions show no matter how caring he truly was. But when it came to Ken, it seemed he broke the normal rules he set up for himself. He would smile, and laugh, and let down the hard wall he put up ever since his older sister passed.

“You like him that much?”

Seishu snapped his head over at Shinichiro. “Don’t you have a crush on your coworker?” He hissed back. The blonde was always quick to retaliate with something. Shinichiro rolled his eyes. He tossed his script to the side to focus on his dinner.

“Haha,” he sarcastically said. “Go,” Shinichiro shooed. And Seishu scoffed and left the living room. Not because he listened to Shinichiro but because he wanted to eat. Shinichiro returned to his script and ate. There was so much to film.

Luckily, Shinichiro was used to pain. He was used to getting his ass kicked and thrown around, beaten and bruised. His past with gangs taught him that much. People expected it to teach him how to fight but it only taught him how to tolerate. So, Shinichiro had no problem playing out a scene where he had to trip in the kitchen and run the risk of injuring himself.

His toe slammed right into the bottom edge of the island counter. His body fell forward. Shinichiro dramatically waved his arms around while he was falling to the floor. Most people would have probably gotten scared and caught themselves since they knew they were going to fall, but Shinichiro played the scene perfectly—if perfectly counted for an almost bloody nose. Thank God he didn’t slam his face into the wood.

But Wakasa stood in the kitchen watching it play out. He had a can of soda in his hand brought up to his lips while he watched the other actor fake trip over the counter. When the other was on the floor, that was Wakasa’s signal to snicker into the tin. He set it down and kneeled next to him.

“So much for the gym, huh?”

“Fuck,” Shinichiro swore. He folded his arms on the ground and rested his forehead down. “Let me lay here for a moment.”

“Mmk,” Wakasa hummed. He took a seat on the floor next to the disaster. After playing Wakahiko for a long while he understood his character, and of course, he knew where him and Ren, Shinichiro’s character, stood with one another. Enough for Wakasa to go a little off script and run his fingers through Shinichiro’s hair without having someone stop the two actors.

It was soft and smooth. Well-treated which made sense because it was most likely his natural hair without the damage from hair dying chemicals. Shinichiro’s hair slipped through Wakasa’s fingers and fell back down for Wakasa to push his fingertips through once again and repeat. He did it slowly, not thinking anymore about where he was but the comfort he felt.

Shinichiro turned his head so he could look at Wakasa. He stared at his face and his smile as he played with the other’s hair. Unbothered by the lights shining on them and the camera that was still rolling. If it kept going at this rate, then the director would stop them. That would run the risk of fully embarrassing Wakasa. So, Shinichiro went to improvise their already-improvised scene. His character was outgoing and bold, so he would give them that.

He sat up, and Wakasa moved his hand away. Not all the way, but he held it up in the air and paused while he watched Shinichiro shift around. The other moved closer and closer. Enough to bump their foreheads together lightly before giving them a tiny bit more distance so he could whisper, “Come to the gym with me?”

Acting, Wakasa had to remind himself. So, he scoffed and backed up. He left Shinichiro discarded on the floor to fend for himself because that was what Jun Wakahiko would do.

“Not a chance,” he said, and he walked out of view of the cameras.

“CUT.”

Right when Wakasa heard it, he turned back around and headed to Shinichiro. He held out a hand for him. Shinichiro blinked at it a few times but accepted the help.

“Thanks,” Shinichiro said.

“Are you okay?” Wakasa asked. “I could tell that was a real fall.”

Shinichiro laughed. He lifted his leg a little so he could rub his knee. “Might be a growing bruise, but I’ll be fine,” he said. “Speaking of,” Shinichiro planted his foot back on the ground and tapped his finger on his own chin, “how’s your..?”

“Oh.” Wakasa raised his hand and put it over his cheek. It still hurt from time to time. He couldn’t bite down onto his suckers and break them which was annoying. “It’s healing,” he said. “Almost gone.”

Shinichiro smiled. “Good to hear.” He reached over. Wakasa froze, and he let Shinichiro lightly drag the side of his curled finger on his chin to touch the bruise. It didn’t hurt; it felt good. Wakasa dropped a breath trapped in his lungs. “I’ll see you later, Wakasa,” he said with his voice as soft as his touch. And all Wakasa could muster was a nod.

Six months. They seemed to fly by. It didn’t feel like it had been half a year already working with the white leopard, but it was an achievement with a season of their show being completed under their belts. So, they all decided to go out for drinks. Shinichiro, Wakasa, the director whose name Shinichiro learned was Akio and his wife who worked there as well, Sakura. A few other workers there like the makeup artist, Mei, and the hair stylist, Haruka. Shinichiro invited along Ken and Seishu; Wakasa brought Benkei.

They sat around a long, reserved table with glasses and bottles of alcohol filling the surface. Shinichiro wasn’t much of an alcohol guy. He smoked from time to time when he got really stressed, but that was all.

“Hey, I remember you.” Wakasa sat across from the blonde whom he had vaguely ‘met’ six months when Shinichiro was first trying to get the job. Seishu raised an eyebrow and tilted a cup of rum at his lips for a quick sip. “And hey, Draken,” he said to Ken who took a spot next to Seishu.

“You know Draken?” Seishu asked. Now he was far more interested in their connection than his and Shinichiro’s.

Wakasa flicked back a wrist to the tall quiet man sitting beside him. “Benkei’s his trainer at the gym.”

“Seriously?” Shinichiro asked. He was next to Wakasa. Close. Their knees were threatening to touch eachothers. Shinichiro didn’t think it would be all that bad had they been crammed into a smaller space and make him forced to be closer to the white leopard.

“Mhm,” Ken finally hummed. “This is Inui Seishu,” he said to introduce the blonde. Seishu smiled—more of a cocky grin. He reached over the table to extend an arm toward the two.

“Inupi is fine.” Benkei shook his hand which was cold and firm. Wakasa’s grip was a lot different, soft and warm.

“Inupi it is,” Wakasa said.

And then Ken’s eyes opened all the way. His back straightened out. As if he was suddenly on alert. He looked to Benkei and pointed at Wakasa. “Is—”

But Benkei nodded to cut Ken off. The tall man raised his glass to his lips and averted his eyes off to the side to avoid eye contact. Weird. Strange. Seishu picked up on it, of course. He nudged Ken in the side, but the only thing Ken gave him in return was a ‘I’ll tell you later.’

Seishu entertained them that night by telling Wakasa and Benkei embarrassing stories of Shinichiro. He was not pleased with the way the blonde spilled his secrets like how he had accidentally cleaned the wooden floors with glass cleaner, and everything was hard to walk on for a bit. Or how he had been so tired while cooking he used the wrong seasoning and dinner had tasted something of Seishu’s doing—horrible.

It made Shinichiro want to jump over the table and tackle Seishu to the floor. He thought about taking his bedroom door off the hinges for a few nights as a punishment. But he liked the way Wakasa laughed story after story. It might have been at his expense, but it was mesmerizing all the same. He could feel against him how Wakasa’s shoulders jumped. The white leopard would lean on him from time to time, attack him with those sharp, purple eyes and ask him, ‘Did you really?’

Shinichiro nodded every time because he couldn’t say anything. Not with a dry throat and the fear of his voice cracking. Wakasa made him nervous being that close and open with him. But he liked it. He could get used to it.

The black-haired man wasn’t sure how they got away with feeding alcohol to Seishu. He was underage. But still, there was Seishu getting a little too far over the line. Regardless, the night was still fun, but after a while it was time to turn in. They said their goodbyes to their coworkers and left.

Ken helped Seishu through the door which wasn’t hard at all with the way the blonde clung onto him. Shinichiro had offered to help, but Ken was positive that he could handle him on his own. He had wrapped the blonde’s arm around his neck and began to bring him to his room.

“Hey, Draken.”

Ken paused in the hallway and looked over his shoulder. He waited for Shinichiro to continue. And Seishu waited for Ken to help him keep walking by beginning to fiddle with the buttons on Ken’s shirt, rolling the round bead between his fingers.

“What was that look you gave Benkei at the beginning of the night?”

Shinichiro never forgot a thing. But Ken shook his head and turned back around.

“Don’t worry about it. Night, Shinichiro.”

The actors were given a month break before the second season. Shinichiro felt comfortable now that he was back on the set with the white leopard. It felt right standing on the stage with him. LED lights that shone down onto the white fur. Soft. Shinichiro wanted to touch it, but Wakasa could probably bite.

“So, first we’ll have you, Sano as Ren, at the gym. You spot Imaushi as Wakahiko. There’ll be a pause we do. You just need to stop for a few seconds before continuing the scene. You’ll pause anyway in shock,” the director explained pointing around to places on the stage. Wakasa and Shinichiro stood up on the set a foot above the man giving them instructions. “We’ll add in some clips from the first season to give a little help for a recap, then Imaushi with his lines, yada-yada—you guys know the drill.”

The actors nodded and took their places in the fake gym set up. Wakasa took his deep breath; Shinichiro told himself who he was—Suzuki Ren.

“ACTION.”

Shinichiro readjusted his grip on the prop duffel bag while he swung open the glass door. There was a tiny noise when the top of the door hit the small bell. He put a smile on his face that his character would normally have as he walked through. There were a pair of wire headphones in his ears, but they weren’t playing any noise.

He stopped when he made it obvious his eyes landed on Wakasa. The equipment he was on was real. Shinichiro could tell now that he had the proper gym experience. The white leopard sat on the black leather seat and poked at the weights. Right. Wakahiko would be completely unfamiliar, Shinichiro realized. And he wanted to break into a smile because it was kind of funny seeing Wakasa act dumb over it, but he held it back. Instead, he widened his eyes in surprise and ripped an earphone from his ear.

“Jun?” He called out. Wakasa froze, his back straightened, and he quickly looked over at Shinichiro. A small curse of a ‘shit’ underneath his breath.

“AND PAUSE. And we’re frozen for the flashbacks. AND CONTINUE.”

Shinichiro let himself stand for a millisecond more before he took a slow step forward. “Jun, that’s you? I’m not dreaming or hallucinating, right?”

Wakasa rolled his eyes and lifted himself from the chair. He still wore sweatpants and a sweater. His hands were buried in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s me,” he muttered. “Laugh it off. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing here?” Shinichiro asked. Wakasa groaned. He scratched his face and then let out a sigh.

“I wanted to get a little experience at a gym before agreeing to go with you because I didn’t want to be embarrassed,” he explained. And it was Shinichiro’s turn to let out a laugh. “Quit laughing, Suzuki.”

Shinichiro killed down his laugh a little but kept his smile. “I’ll teach you the way of a gym if you agree to one thing.”

“What?”

“Call me Ren.”

“Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’..?”

Wakasa sighed and tossed on a smile. “Seriously, Ren?”

Shinichiro grinned. “Let’s get started.”

“CUT.” The director stepped toward them. “Wonderful as always, you two. You never lost your chemistry. That’s a good sign, you know?”

Shinichiro stole a glance over at Wakasa. The other had pulled out a sucker from his pocket and stared down at it rolling the stick between his fingers. Was he smiling? The corner of his lips was tilted ever-so slightly.

“Can we run a bit more?” Wakasa lifted his head at the director’s question, and that caused Shinichiro to stop looking. The white leopard nodded, so Shinichiro agreed too.

Shinichiro was getting ready to leave the acting building. He tugged the leather jacket on his shoulders while he walked down the hallway away from his dressing room. It was a bit late, they stayed running more than planned, so Shinichiro was going to call Seishu to ask about dinner plans and if the other had already eaten or not.

“Sano!” Shinichiro paused with his hand on his phone. The director was running toward him to catch him before he left. “I have a question.”

“Shoot,” Shinichiro said.

“That blonde you brought to dinner when we celebrated the ending of the first season,” the director began to say, “do you have his contact information?”

Shinichiro pulled out his phone and waved it. “I was about to call him actually,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Is he an actor?”

“No,” Shinichiro said, “but he’s been wanting to,” he admitted.

“He’s pretty. Definitely a face I’d want on the big screen,” the director said. “Could you bring him in during a scene?”

Shinichiro nodded. “I can do that.”

“Amazing. Thank you,” the director said. He gave Shinichiro a nod and walked off.

The actor continued his walk to his car. He slowed down when he heard footsteps trying to catch up to his long strides. Wakasa caught up to him.

“Hey,” the white leopard said.

“Hey.”

“I heard you guys talking about Inupi,” Wakasa began to say. Shinichiro and him walked in the parking lot. Both slowed their steps so they could have enough time to talk. “I was curious about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He lives with you, doesn’t he?” Wakasa asked, and Shinichiro nodded. “And obviously you can’t possibly be his biological father.”

Shinichiro laughed. “No, I have no blood relation to Inupi,” he said. “He was orphaned when he was eight. His sister passed away in a fire,” he pointed to where Seishu had his scar on his own face, “and his parents kind of ran and left him after she did. He was alone, so I took care of him.”

"So, you basically raised him—you’re basically his dad,” Wakasa said.

"Yeah, I guess,” Shinichiro said with a shrug. His fingers played with his car keys in his pocket. He has never thought about how he was like a father figure to Seishu. A guardian, sure, but a parent sounded…too strong? Shinichiro didn’t think he ever did good enough to deserve that title. He tried his best. “I can't take credit for the first eight years of his life."

"Still, you basically raised him,” Wakasa stubbornly said. “So, why does he have the attitude he does? You're like the nicest person I know. Shouldn’t he be nice learning from you? You’re nothing alike—no offense.”

They reached Shinichiro’s car, and the black-haired man was able to look at him while they spoke. The natural light of the sun hit Wakasa’s face. It was so much different from the constant stage lights he always saw. The makeup was washed off his face. Everything about him was a hundred percent him. Shinichiro thought he was gorgeous.

He cleared his throat to answer Wakasa’s questions. “Because he never lost himself and who he started out as. He used to be in gangs when he was younger,” Shinichiro admitted.

"Really?" Wakasa asked. His eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. He seemed like he wanted to ask more, but his jaw bit down on the sucker in his mouth.

"Well, because I was,” Shinichiro said. Why did I say that?

"Huh."

"What?" Shinichiro had to act like he didn’t say the most insane thing. Him? In a gang? That had to be hard to picture.

"Nothing,” Wakasa mumbled. “See you later, Shinichiro."

A month of production carried along. The characters Wakahiko and Ren were closer than best friends. Shinichiro didn’t watch his own show because he knew he would cringe seeing himself act, but he was sure it was painful to watch the slow burn of the two.

Ren has gotten Wakahiko on a gym schedule where the other would attended a few times a week, but it was beginning to stress him out. The characters were supposed to get into a fight about it. Shout at each other. Wakasa was supposed to yell at Shinichiro. Not much for the other way around. Shinichiro’s character was supposed to remain quiet.

Wakahiko’s crush on Ren was supposed to develop into an outburst.

“ACTION.”

Shinichiro stood in the kitchen. Wakasa was leaned against the wall holding a phone and pretending to be busy. The actor turned down the stove, which wasn’t actually lit, but they had a big enough pan on the prop oven to block the view if there had been any flames. He spun around to face Wakasa with a dirty spatula in his hand.

“Hey, Wakahiko,” Shinichiro said as Ren. And Wakahiko, Wakasa, glanced up from the fake phone. “How come you missed coming to the gym yesterday?”

Wakasa froze, and he straightened his back out, pursed his lips, and strengthened the grip on his phone. His character had skipped going to the gym because he wanted to dodge seeing Shinichiro that day. Wakahiko’s mind was supposed to be running wild with thoughts about Ren.

“I just didn’t want to go,” Wakasa muttered.

“You’re not going to get anywhere if you keep skipping out like that,” Shinichiro said.

“Stop fucking hounding me about it.”

“Woah, sorry,” Shinichiro said. “Are you alright?” He turned the fake stove off the rest of the way to bring his full attention to Wakasa. A twitch in his eyebrow of worry—Shinichiro was good at making facial expressions. Wakasa didn’t want him walking close to him as much as Wakahiko didn’t want Ren near him.

“Yes—or no—“ he began to quickly say. He didn’t have to remember the script word for word. Wakasa always went off what they put anyhow. “No, I’m not because every fucking time that I turn around you’re there,” he huffed. Shinichiro stopped in front of him. He looked confused.

“What do you mean, Waka?”

Oh, boy. Wakasa felt numb. ‘Waka.’ He wished the actor had a different name. ‘Waka’ sounded nice, but it was for Wakahiko not Wakasa.

“Wakahiko?”

“I hate you,” Wakasa whispered. “Just stay away from me.” He turned to leave, but Shinichiro had long enough arms to grab ahold on Wakasa’s wrist and stop him.

“You—what?” Shinichiro asked. Ren asked. “Waka, I’m sorry if I did something.”

“I hate seeing you!” Wakasa ripped his hand from Shinichiro’s hold. “Because for my entire fucking life I never needed anyone before, and now I feel like I need you, and I want you there, and it’s so fucking stupid—“ Wakasa paused, and he shrunk down his posture. “I’m yelling, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It’s not your fault. I just—caught feelings.”

Shinichiro stepped up to him. Closer. He grabbed ahold of his face. Wakasa didn’t want him to let go.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Shinichiro quietly said. A whisper under his breath that was smooth and captivating.

And it wasn’t in the script, but Wakasa smiled and lifted off his heels. He pressed his lips to Shinichiro’s lips. His eyes shut tightly because the last thing he wanted to see was Shinichiro’s reaction. He only wanted to kiss him. There was an exciting jolt through him when he felt the other’s hands grab his waist so they didn’t topple over.

Shinichiro hadn’t been expecting it. No one had. The people standing behind the cameras had to cover their mouths to stop any gasps from being picked up by the microphones. Shinichiro’s eyes had shot open for a moment before he had to shout at himself to continue or it would definitely be weird.

They couldn’t kiss forever no matter how much Wakasa wanted to. He pulled back and pursed his lips. His hand dragged down Shinichiro’s chest before he backed up and left through the door of his fake bedroom.

“C—CUT.”

The time that it took Wakasa to walk through the door back to the main stage took longer than usual. But the door opened, and he stepped through. He didn’t glance over toward Shinichiro but watched as the director walked up to the stage.

“That was phenomenal!” He exclaimed. “I-it was for sure unexpected,” he said with a laugh, “but I’m in love with it! Did you guys plan that?”

Wakasa shook his head. “No, I just thought that it was a good moment to,” he said. “The feel of it.”

“And that is what I love about you two working together,” he said with a grin. “This throws off the planned script, for sure,” he muttered, “so we have to get the writers informed on this, but we’re definitely keeping that.”

Thank God, Wakasa thought because it would be ten times more embarrassing if they had scraped that entire scene. He liked Shinichiro. That was obvious. But when did it happen? And how? Wakasa had worked with people before, and he didn’t even contact those people anymore after the show was finished with. Is it because it’s a rom-com? Wakasa needed a break from Shinichiro. Just to clear his head after the day’s recording.

There was a spot on the ground that Wakasa stared at. He thought about how he should word to his friend what he had done his last film session. Kissing Shinichiro. He needed to summon someone’s strength. Seishu’s, he thought.

“I kissed Shinichiro.”

Blunt and honest.

The sound of something heavy slammed into the patted mats that laid on the floor. Wakasa quickly glanced over scared for a moment that Benkei had dropped the weight onto his own foot. The way that the giant was leaned over and looking down. But then he lifted his head, and Wakasa knew that he was alright. Just stunned.

“You did what?”

“Well, we were doing a scene where Wakahiko was mad at Ren,” Wakasa began to explain, “but he wasn’t angry with Ren, he was frustrated with himself because at this point, he likes him. A lot.” Benkei nodded to show he was following what Wakasa was saying. “And so, I don’t know, I thought it was a good moment for Wakahiko to kiss Ren,” he explained with a shrug. He reached over to where the dropped weight was and picked it up. “It’s nothing.”

“’It’s nothing’? Are you stupid?”

“The fuck do you mean?”

Benkei sighed. “Never mind.”

“No—"

“Hey.”

Wakasa froze. It was almost his turn to drop the weight, but he held it and glanced up. And then he dropped it pretending as if they were too heavy for him. They were twenty-three kilograms. Shinichiro knew that Wakasa attended the gym, but Wakasa would be dammed if Shinichiro knew that he was insanely strong.

Or Karma would come quick, and that entire idea would be tossed out of the window. From behind Shinichiro was an old gang that Wakasa and Benkei used to deal with. They came into the gym from time to time to practice fighting with the two.

“Hey, Waka!” One of them shouted. Shinichiro glanced over his shoulder to check, and he stepped to the side as the group of four men approached the old duo. “Want to fight?” He asked rolling his shoulder for a stretch. “I’m feeling like kicking your ass today.”

Before Wakasa could agree or deny, Shinichiro laughed. “Wakasa fight?” He asked through a chuckle. “You’re kidding, right?”

The guy who asked for a fight raised an eyebrow at Shinichiro. Then he looked him up and down and scoffed. “You fight him then.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” the guy said. Stone cold expression. “Fight him.”

“Okay.”

Wakasa did not want to be standing in the ring with Shinichiro in front of him. Not because he did not want to hurt Shinichiro, but he didn’t want Shinichiro to know that he could easily give him a concussion. Shinichiro did not know what he was getting himself into.

“Alright, Wakasa,” Shinichiro began to say. “Remember I was in a gang, so I know a thing or two.”

Wakasa grinned, and he tried to hold it back. He bit his lip. “Alright, Shinichiro. Give me your best shot,” he said.

“I’m going to go easy on you.”

“Please don’t.”

Shinichiro acted first. He went to throw a punch that Wakasa could tell he was holding back. It wouldn’t have matter anyway. Wakasa took a mere step back to dodge it. Shinichiro tripped forward a little but found his footing. He looked over at Wakasa and then tried again. A bit harder with more of a swing, but it was still something Wakasa could avoid in his sleep.

More and more punches Shinichiro started to throw, the more he started to put an effort into them, but it was all pointless. Wakasa could dodge with a blindfold. It was kind of sad watching Shinichiro run out of breath trying to keep up with Wakasa even though he was on offense. Wakasa decided to put him out of his misery. He punched him in the gut hard enough to send him back onto the wire barrier. Shinichiro nearly choked on his spit while he was tossed to the floor by the bounce back.

Wakasa kneeled beside him and brushed the hair out of Shinichiro’s face. He was a bit sweaty with some of the black strands sticking to his forehead. Gross. But it made Wakasa grin.

“I was in a gang too by the way,” Wakasa whispered to him. Shinichiro didn’t have enough energy to give much of a reaction. Just widen his eyes. “Sit back and watch a real fight.” Wakasa looked off to the side where the man from before had wanted to fight him and waved for him to climb into the ring. He did while Benkei helped Shinichiro get off and out of the way.

The man, as always, was no match for Wakasa. Since Shinichiro was there, the white leopard ended it quickly. Though it was still enough time to tire the gang member out. Wakasa called the practice gf earlier than usual and hopped out of the ring. He walked over to where Shinichiro and Benkei were, and the giant handed him a bottle of cold water.

“Wow,” Shinichiro muttered. He sat on a bench leaned over on his elbows. Benkei stood beside it with his arms crossed.

“I’ll get you drinks later for embarrassing the shit out of you,” Wakasa said after he finished with his water. He screwed the cap back on before placing it on the bench. “I’m going to shower.”

As he had promised his director before, which Shinichiro had learned finally that his name was Akio, he brought Seishu in. He played the role of one of Wakahiko’s friends since high school. Seishu was in his room which was one of the rare scenes that showed Wakahiko’s room. He leaned on his palms back on the bed and watched as Wakasa, as Wakahiko, paced back and forth in the room. It was weird being off-set and watching.

The way they conversed was so smooth and authentic. As if they had been friends for years—it made sense because that was the role of Seishu, but how did he do that? Shinichiro didn’t even know if he could act that calm around Wakasa.

He brought his hand up to his lips and lightly brushed his fingertips against them. Are we awkward now? Shinichiro didn’t think so, but at the same time, he was never sure. But still it took Shinichiro ages to get used to acting around the white leopard. How did Seishu do it?

“What? Because I don’t have a crush on him, you fucking toddler.”

Shinichiro froze. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Seishu pulled the shirt over his head and tugged it down. They stood in the temporary dressing room given to Seishu. Shinichiro had dropped by to grab him but also to ask him, ‘Hey, how do you act so perfectly around Wakasa?’ Of course, he got the response he did. Seishu was a blunt, out forward asshole—no matter how much Shinichiro loved the kid to death. “You had a basic actor crush on him to begin with,” Seishu began to say. He turned and looked in the mirror to fix his hair which was nothing but parting it. “Now, you’ve spent months working with him. Of course, your feelings grew.”

“Shut up,” Shinichiro muttered. Why was the blonde schooling him? That was his job. “Shut up and let’s go.”

The bar was crowded, but Wakasa did not want to invite Shinichiro over to his place. He couldn’t, so he dealt with the tons of people because he promised Shinichiro drinks. Luckily, Shinichiro was fine with getting a table in the far back. Especially since they were actors. Somebody was bound to recognize them. They got their drinks and quickly moved away from people.

“So,” Shinichiro began to say, his fingertips dribbling on the side of the glass of beer he had gotten, “when you heard me tell you that I used to be in a gang, did you forget to mention that you used to be in a gang too?”

Wakasa scoffed as a laugh and then sighed. “I didn’t want you to run off scared.”

“I just said I was in a gang too.”

“I was strong,” Wakasa said. “Like, scarily strong.”

“You still are,” Shinichiro said with a scoff.  The little noises Shinichiro made were cute. God, I need to get away from this man. Wakasa was drowning.

“I am,” Wakasa admitted, “but not nearly as much,” he said. “Benkei and I were one of the strongest duos back in the 1990’s when gangs were at its prime.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Being in a gang?” Wakasa asked. He lifted his drink to his lips to take a sip, but he didn’t want to get too intoxicated afraid that he might say something he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.”

“I grew up,” Wakasa said with a shrug. “Why’d you stop?”

Shinichiro laughed. “I had a lot—” he paused, “kids. You know, they’re not my kids, but that was always what it felt like,” he said. “I had my younger siblings to look after and those lost children who I tried my best to help.”

“Like Inupi,” Wakasa said. Shinichiro nodded.

“Inupi was probably the one I helped the most.”

“Well, of course, you housed him.”

“And he’s still ungrateful,” Shinichiro muttered, but he smiled into his beer. “But I’m glad I took him out of gangs because—” he sighed, “Inupi was strong. He’d be sure to get himself killed if he kept going for it.”

“You really saved him.”

Shinichiro shrugged. “I guess.”

Too modest. Wakasa wanted to leap over the table and slap him, but instead, he took a sip of his drink and kept him eyes on the other.

The new script was in, and Wakasa held it in his hands. He sat at the desk in the back office of the gym while Benkei focused on sorting the weights that were on a stand on the other end of the room. Everything about him was beginning to regret kissing Shinichiro for the scene.

They had to kiss. Again. Wakasa ground his teeth into his lip. The sucker stick in his mouth stopped him from drawing any blood, but the candy popped as it cracked in his mouth. It hurt his jaw from when he bruised it, and Wakasa brought up a hand to cup his own chin.

It felt nothing like when Shinichiro touched his cheek. A light touch, so soft and caring. He wanted to die. His feelings were getting out of hand. Wakasa couldn’t focus on anything.

There was a chuckle over his shoulder, and Wakasa lowered his script to look. Benkei had been glancing over from behind him to read as well.

“Another kiss, huh?” He teased.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” Wakasa asked.

“About what?” Benkei questioned. “Your crush on Sano?” Wakasa rolled his eyes, but he nodded. “Uh,” Benkei scratched his face, “Draken.”

“What?” Wakasa nearly fell out of his chair while sitting up. He slammed the script papers on the desk. Just in case Benkei didn’t know how pissed off that made him.

“We train together,” Benkei said. “I need something for a conversation piece.”

“So, you fucking told him?” Wakasa hissed.

“He’s not going to tell anybody.”

“I bet you twelve thousand yen that he told Inupi,” Wakasa said with a scoff while he shook his head. He could not believe his own best friend. Was he even his best friend at that point? An enemy more like. He had told him that in confidence, and he was realizing he shouldn’t have.

“No,” Benkei refused, “because I’m sure he did tell Him. They’re dating after all.”

“That’s confirmed?” Wakasa asked.

“By Inupi?” Benkei paused. “Yes. By Draken, no.”

“Inupi just told you?”

Benkei shrugged. “Kid’s honest. I don’t think he’s afraid of fucking anything.”

“And Draken?”

“He might not say so until he asks Inupi if it’s fine or not to let people know,” Benkei said.

“Mhm,” Wakasa hummed. At least someone is asking if it’s an okay idea to spill state secrets. “Good kid.”

“Yeah, he is,” Benkei agreed. “So, Shinichiro.”

“Just acting, Benkei,” Wakasa defended. He picked the script back up and tried to ignore the other even though he was in Benkei’s office. The white leopard could easily leave and go somewhere else, but the air conditioning was everything.

“Sure,” Benkei said while picking up one of the weights, “and I’m just lifting.”

“Are you not?” Wakasa asked. But then Benkei stared at him, and Wakasa remembered from years ago. Right, Benkei has some revenge to get or whatever. I told him to give it a rest. “Right,” he muttered. “Whatever. Leave me alone.”

Even though he had been doing it for years, Shinichiro never got sick of having to help his siblings. He would do it in a heartbeat.

Mikey had something that he had to do, so Shinichiro was picking him up when he was done. Izana had been his ride there. He watched as the younger blonde sibling walked down the steps to his car and hopped in. Shinichiro was grinning at him, and Mikey cringed.

“What?” Mikey asked.

“We’re going somewhere for a treat.”

“A treat? You realize I’m not thirteen anymore, right?”

“Sundaes,” Shinichiro said. That was all that Mikey needed. Suddenly, he was thirteen again.

“Okay.”

Shinichiro learned that Mikey ended up being in the top of his class for a subject which was impressive considering the kid had focused on gang activity up until a couple of years back. He was proud of his little brother, and knowing him and his taste for desserts, he wanted to treat him.

Mikey’s face when he got his ice cream was priceless. It always was. Always bright eyes and a sparkle. Like he was a kid again. Shinichiro wished that his brother could always be young for the kid’s own safety. They sat down at a table outside, an umbrella above them to make it a little cooler so that their ice cream could last a little while longer.

Suddenly, Mikey paused with the spoon of vanilla halfway to his mouth and then dropped it.

“What?” Shinichiro asked. He looked over his shoulder.

“Wakasa,” Mikey said quietly. “He’s on Opposites Attract—I mean you’re on it too, I guess that’s cool,” Mikey spoke of the T.V. show Shinichiro and Wakasa starred on. “But Wakasa, the white leopard.” Mikey reached over and hit Shinichiro on the arm. “Introduce me.”

“Seriously? He’s not that cool,” Shinichiro said. He was lying though. Shinichiro never thought that about Wakasa for a second, but what was he supposed to say? His own younger brother dismissed the fact that he was an actor to boast about another actor. The fact that it was an actor that Shinichiro worked with made it worse.

But Shinichiro sighed. He called over Wakasa. Shinichiro could tell that Mikey wanted to hit him for shouting the way he did in a public place. Toward someone famous especially. But Wakasa paused a conversation he had to look over—he was with Benkei. He looked surprised for a moment, but he excused himself from the giant and walked over.

“Shinichiro?” Wakasa asked when he approached. “What are you doing here?”

“My little brother wanted me to introduce you to him,” Shinichiro said while pointing to the blonde he sat across. “This is Mikey, the middle child out of my siblings.”

“Imaushi Wakasa,” Wakasa introduced with a handshake. “How many siblings do you even have?” He asked to Mikey.

“Well, obviously Shinichiro,” Mikey replied. “He’s the oldest. Second oldest is Izana. I’m third oldest. And Emma is the youngest.”

“You took care of three kids?” Wakasa asked to Shinichiro. The black-haired man nodded. And a grin stretched on Wakasa’s face. The sucker moved from one side of his mouth to the other, and Shinichiro got a small peek of his shiny fangs. “You’re amazing, Shin,” he suddenly said.

Shinichiro swallowed the lump in his throat, and it gave him heartburn from the punch to his gut. He stayed modest. “It was nothing,” he mumbled.

“One day I’ll get you to admit it,” Wakasa said. He placed a hand on Shinichiro’s shoulder but looked at Mikey. “Nice meeting you, Mikey.”

It was awkward sitting on the couch in front of each other. They both had a knee drawn up on the sofa, and they were touching.

“Improvise here!” Akio, the director, said. “We’ve decided that’s what we’ll roll with. You two are the writers. The gist of what we want is Ren confessing to Wakahiko.

“ACTION.”

Shinichiro looked at Wakasa. In the eyes. Maybe that had been a bad idea. The purple eyes threw him into a storm where Shinichiro felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment. He had to clear his throat.

“Wakahiko, I—” Shinichiro began, and he let his head drop. He could speak if he didn’t have to see Wakasa. I’m a terrible actor if I can’t get through this. “At first, I just wanted to be friends with you. You were difficult to get through to, and if anything, I saw that as a challenge.” He raised his head. I’m Ren, he’s Wakahiko. “And then I kept trying, and I knew that I was slowly getting to you. It made me really happy if I’m being honest.” Shinichiro threw in a nervous laugh. “Then we started going to the gym together and hanging out. I liked it. A lot. I realized I liked you, but I didn’t really want to admit that to myself,” Shinichiro continued.

“And you were just so damn cool doing things that I didn’t even know you were capable of. I was more intrigued as time went on,” he said. “It was like you were a celebrity, and I just wanted a chance to talk to you, and I got it, and I fell hard,” he muttered softly. I’m Ren, he’s Wakahiko. I’m Ren, he’s Wakahiko. I’m Shinichiro, he’s Wakasa—Shinichiro paused. Fuck. Who did he speak for just now? But it didn’t matter. His speech was over with. Now was Wakasa’s turn.

The white leopard bit his lip. He narrowed his eyes on Shinichiro. His fingers curled into his palms. Wakasa is really thinking everything thought through, Shinichiro thought. Wakasa took a deep breath that was kind of like a small gasp as if he was choking on his spit, and he reached over and grabbed Shinichiro’s hands.

“I was afraid you would hate me for kissing you,” Wakasa softly said.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months,” Shinichiro said with a laugh. Or Ren said—or no, was it Shinichiro?—it was confusing. But Wakasa pushed off the couch to reach to Shinichiro. He dropped one of his hands and placed it on the other’s cheek. Shinichiro froze. He couldn’t move when Wakasa was getting closer and closer, and he couldn’t breathe when Wakasa put his lips against his. For the scene. It was ridiculous how much Shinichiro needed to remind himself that they were acting.

The kiss ended too soon, or it lasted too long. But regardless, Shinichiro didn’t think it was enough. They put their foreheads together and stared at each other in the eyes, which was so hard because God being close to someone as beautiful as the white leopard was driving Shinichiro mad.

“CUT.”

Wakasa pulled away quickly and glanced over his shoulder. He laughed and stood up. “I almost forgot I was acting for a moment,” he said on his feet. He looked over to Shinichiro. “I got goosebumps that time. Good acting.”

“I—” Shinichiro stuttered for a moment before he pinched himself on the leg. “Thanks.” He stood up from the couch. Shinichiro needed to get out of there, to his dressing room so that he could scream at himself in the mirror before washing his face off with water. “I’ve got something I have to get to,” he excused. “See you later.”

Shinichiro pushed the food around in the skillet. He shook the handle to shift it around and shake it. There was a noise behind him of a door opening, but he didn’t bother glancing over his shoulder. Only when there was the sound of hands slamming down on a counter. Then Shinichiro took his eyes off the food to look. Seishu standing there with a grin. Oh, boy.

“What?” Shinichiro asked.

“Just got through the last aired episode of your show,” Seishu said while sitting down. “That kiss.” Shinichiro almost asked ‘Which one?’ but he knew better. It had to have been the first one that Seishu was referring to. “That was a real fucking kiss. That wasn’t acting.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m right. You totally kissed back,” Seishu teased. He laughed. “You are so down bad, Shin.”

“I will not feed you.”

Seishu frowned. “Threatening with food should be illegal,” he muttered sliding off the counter stool. “Fine. Be like that. You should be bold like me. You look like your head is about to explode by lying to me so much.” Shinichiro wished Seishu was closer so he could smack him on the side of the head, but the blonde left the kitchen.

The actor sighed and continued cooking.

Every once and a while Shinichiro’s younger siblings would drop by the hang out. Ever since they all moved out, he didn’t talk to them nearly as much as he used to—though he still did, but he did miss when they all lived together.

They sat on the couch. Seishu was out with Ken. Shinichiro was filling in his siblings about his show. Emma was trying to get more information like spoilers out of Shinichiro, but Izana told her to have patience.

“You guys finally kissed!” Emma said excitedly. “God, I love romance.”

“I got to meet Imaushi.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” Izana laughed.

“An ice cream shop,” Mikey said proudly.

“You brought him to an ice cream shop?” Izana asked Shinichiro. And the older brother shrugged.

“He got good grades.” Suddenly, Shinichiro’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and read the caller ID. Wakasa? The black-haired man glanced up to his siblings. “Excuse me,” he said while standing and heading into the kitchen. He answered. “Wakasa?”

“Hey, Shinichiro,” Wakasa said. “I was reading the script. The vague ass script. Have you looked at your copy?”

“Uh, yeah,” Shinichiro said with a laugh. He leaned against the counter. “They really want us to carry the dialogue.”

“You mind if I drop by so we can practice some of this shit? Look over whatever lines we have?”

Shinichiro was about to deny. He had to. His siblings were over. But the phone was snatched from him.

“Hello?” It was Emma. Shinichiro couldn’t hear what Wakasa was saying. “Imaushi?!” It didn’t take long before the other two siblings slid into the room. Shinichiro groaned. Emma put the phone on speaker.

“You’re Emma, right?” Wakasa asked.

“Yes, oh, my god,” Emma said.

“Shin, I’m on my way.”

“What?” Shinichiro nearly shouted. He did not want his three siblings and Wakasa in the same room. They knew embarrassing stories about him.

“I want to meet your siblings. See you in ten.”

Wakasa showed up on time. Emma was the one who opened the door. Shinichiro didn’t have enough time to get to it before she did. She was fast. But he was there a few moments after her to apologize for her and let Wakasa in. And Seishu and Ken were with Wakasa.

“We were heading back here when we caught Wakasa on the way,” Seishu explained while stepping inside. He kicked off his heels and fell ten centimeters.

“And you made him knock?” Emma asked.

“I thought it would be funny,” Seishu said with a shrug.

They all ended up gathered in the living room. It wasn’t the biggest living room on the planet, therefore, Emma and Mikey sat on the floor. By choice. They didn’t fight for their spots on the sofa.

“So, Imaushi!” Emma jumped a little. Wakasa sat on the couch next to Shinichiro, feet pulled up and crossed.

“Wakasa is fine.”

Emma nearly died. “Wakasaa,” she dragged out, “why did you call Shin in the first place?”

“Oh,” Wakasa said stealing a look over at Shinichiro. “I wanted to practice lines with him,” he said putting his attention back to Emma.

“You can still do that! We’ll be your audience.” She elbowed Mikey next to her. “Right, Mikey?” She asked. Mikey nodded, and Izana agreed from the couch. Seishu laughed though, and he pulled out his phone. A few moments later, Ken’s phone buzzed.

“Can you two stop?” Mikey muttered. Right. His ‘brother’ was dating his best friend.

“We’re not going to run through lines with you guys here,” Shinichiro denied. Emma groaned, but she gave up.

The actor managed to get through most of the night swerving away from his siblings telling Wakasa embarrassing stories about him. Of course, Izana and Mikey jumped to do so. But he shot them down every single time they tried. They did end up getting out that Shinichiro was a complete weakling in gangs and that most of the time it was Izana or Mikey saving his ass. Eventually, the siblings had to leave. Mikey and Emma were still in school, and Izana was their ride home. Shinichiro was free from having to constantly protect himself.

Which that was only the case because Seishu was leaving as well. He patted Shinichiro on the shoulder from over the back of the couch and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “We’ll leave you two alone then,” before he left.

Shinichiro huffed and leaned back on the couch. Wakasa was standing by a wall that was decorated with hanging photographs. The black-haired man stood up and joined the white leopard. A few photos from when Shinichiro was in gangs, some of Izana, Emma, and Mikey, a couple with their grandfather pictured with all of them.

Shinichiro cleared his throat. “So, are you still up for running lines?” Wakasa turned quickly as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. He stared for a few moments before he nodded. “What scene did you want to run through?” Shinichiro asked.

“Any of them,” Wakasa said with a shrug.

The two spent their time thinking through the scenes together. They had a few suggestions for each other which they typically agreed on what way they wanted to take everything. Both of them joked around about being paid for also being the writers of the show, and then realized hey, maybe we should be.

An hour flew by of flipping through the pages. Shinichiro stood up from the kitchen table with a stretch and a yawn. “What next?” Shinichiro asked.

“Well,” Wakasa stepped past Shinichiro to head into the living room, “we’re supposed to make out on the couch.” Shinichiro felt himself freeze. He wanted to run through what? Wakasa spun around to face Shinichiro, and the black-haired man had to pretend as if the mention of kissing didn’t make his head spin. “We have to know how unless you want to mess up and keep kissing in front of a bunch of people until we get it right.”

It made sense. Fuck it made sense. He did not want to run through that scene with people staring at him. Could Shinichiro call himself an actor if he couldn’t? His feelings were bursting through too much for him to care.

So, he nodded. “Okay.”

They stood in front of each other a foot away from the couch. Shinichiro didn’t feel as awkward without the cameras on him if he was being honest. It was just him and Wakasa, but he was still nervous.

“Wakahiko is shy,” Wakasa stated. He knew his character the best, of course. “And Ren would be—” Wakasa paused. He knew Shinichiro’s character too, but it took him a moment to think about how the other would respond to something. “Ren would be careful. He would be scared of messing something up.”

Shinichiro nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed out.

“So, we go slow to start.” Wakasa placed his hand on Shinichiro’s arm. A soft touch. Nothing too strong. Weak and hesitant. He slid his hand up slowly. To Shinichiro’s shoulder, up Shinichiro’s neck—Shinichiro shivered—and finally rested on his cheek. He lifted off his heels and kissed Shinichiro. Something gentle. Not even kissing. Just grazing.

And then he moved his lips. Shinichiro finally closed his eyes. He slowly moved his hands to where he knew Wakasa’s hips were. Wakasa flinched for a moment, Shinichiro could feel it, but he kept kissing Shinichiro. His arms wrapped around his neck. Wakasa would break away for a breath of air but go right back. Shinichiro was getting dizzy, but he was liking everything about it.

Wakasa took a step forward, and Shinichiro fell back. He opened his eyes as he landed on the couch, but he didn’t have time for a reaction when Wakasa crawled onto his lap.

“W-Wakasa?”

Wakasa didn’t reply though. He leaned forward and put his forehead to Shinichiro’s forehead and stared at him. Again, with that look in his eyes. He wasn’t done. Shinichiro pursed his lips quickly before sliding his fingers from the bottom of Wakasa’s hair and pulling him in. Wakasa. On his lap. Kissing him. Pinning him down underneath his weight.

Were either of them acting anymore?

Wakasa grabbed Shinichiro’s wrist and placed his hand flat on the white leopard’s chest. Shinichiro could feel how warm Wakasa was. Hot. And his heart was beating fast. His lips fell off Wakasa’s lips when the other backed up to look him in the eyes which was an entire mistake on its own. The lids of his eyes that were drawn half closed but enough to peek through and see something burning in his eyes.

“You have to touch me or it won’t look real,” Wakasa breathed. There was something blocking Shinichiro from breathing, and he had to swallow back before letting out a gasp. He bit his lip and let his hand roam free. Guiding down, skimming the white leopard’s side, further down—his thighs. He wanted to feel his skin, but the other’s jeans blocked the way. Wakasa’s head dropped down on his shoulder, and Shinichiro felt like he was going insane because the other was now breathing heavily close to his ear. He whimpered something. Wakasa made a noise. Were they acting?

The white leopard began to kiss the side of Shinichiro’s face. His neck first, lightly placed kisses, and then up to his cheek. His other hand slowly guided up his own shirt hoping that Shinichiro would touch there. And the other did like an unknown instinct. With one hand still placed on the other’s thigh, he used his other to graze his fingertips against Wakasa’s soft skin. Strong but soft. He took care of himself, but he didn’t make himself too bulky that a camera wouldn’t like—that models for something like a nice clothing wouldn’t like. Just pretty.

His hand guided up further holding onto his back. If Wakasa wanted to dip his head back so Shinichiro had room to attack his neck, he could have. He stared at the other’s face, Wakasa’s closed eyes and pursed lips. He looked—Shinichiro couldn’t describe it.

“Home!”

Shinichiro hadn’t even heard the door open. He quickly grabbed ahold of Wakasa and moved him off his lap onto the couch. Wakasa wasn’t heavy—not when Shinichiro felt a rush of adrenaline through him. He stood up while clearing his throat and wiping a hand over his face trying to clear off the sweat, and embarrassment, and however flustered he looked.

Seishu walked into the living room staring down at his watch while he fixed it, twisting and turning it on his wrist. He glanced up, and then he raised an eyebrow at Shinichiro. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“You’re home already?” Shinichiro asked instead.

Seishu scoffed a laugh. “I was gone for two hours,” he said.

Two hours? Shinichiro questioned. That felt like twenty minutes.

“Wakasa head home?” Seishu asked. He couldn’t see Wakasa from the angle the other laid on the couch. From the corner of his eye, Shinichiro could see Wakasa laying on his back, his arms crossed and folded over his face, chest rising and falling. He couldn’t read what he was thinking. “What’d you two do?” He asked with a grin.

“Went over lines. The next scene is tricky.” Shinichiro wasn’t completely lying.

“Boring,” Seishu said with a fake yawn that slipped into a real one. “I’m heading to bed.”

“Draken?”

“Masamichi called him,” the blonde muttered. “Needed him for something. A fight going down at the brothel,” he said. “I offered to go with, but he told me to go home.” Seishu looked upset, but Shinichiro didn’t pry. “Goodnight, Shin.”

Shinichiro let out a sigh of relief when he heard the kid’s door close. He put his face in his hands to think. What, what, what, what, what—he stopped when he heard movement. His fingers slipped apart from each other so he could peek through. The white leopard was sitting up on the couch fixing his t shirt tugging it down the rest of the way.

“I should go,” Wakasa whispered quietly. Right, Seishu didn’t even know Wakasa was still there. Shinichiro nodded and walked the other the front door.

He waited as Wakasa slipped on his shoes while holding his jacket for him. The white leopard moved slowly tucking his finger into his shoe to hook it on the back and pull it over his heel. He tapped it on the ground quietly a few times to make sure they were on and stood up. Shinichiro handed him his coat. “Thank you,” he whispered while he slipped it on.

Shinichiro opened the door quietly for Wakasa, and the other stepped through, but he paused and looked back.

“You’re good at kissing, Shin. Goodnight.”

Shinichiro was going to die.

Shinichiro was waiting on the couch. His leg was crossed over the other, and his elbow leaned on his knee. The other black-haired giant sat next to him on the couch leaning to the left on the arm rest. They waited for the blonde.

Seishu finally opened his door and slid into the room. He held his arms out and slowly spun around. “Huh?”

Ken sighed and stood up. He made his way over to Seishu and put his hands on his shoulders. Seishu blinked at him confused for a moment. His eyes followed as Ken’s hands moved to readjust his tie.

“I don’t even need the tie,” Seishu muttered. “It’s going to throw off my whole thing. You might as well give me a briefcase.”

“It looks nice,” Shinichiro said.

“It’s an acting interview,” Seishu deadpanned. “I got myself one of those while I was drinking underage.”

“Don’t be proud of that,” Ken mumbled. He helped fix Seishu’s hair by brushing it back. Seishu slapped his hand away.

“Quit touching me.”

“You like it.”

“Not in front of—“ Seishu stepped on his foot which was nothing because Ken didn’t even flinch from the pain. He chuckled. Shinichiro had hardly even seen Seishu’s face dusted with pink, but he did when the blonde looked over at him. “I’m getting rid of the tie.”

“It looks nice,” Shinichiro repeated. “Makes it look like I did a good job raising you.”

“Well,” Seishu begun to say. His fingers slipped at the top of the tie to tug it down, “let’s not lie or give the wrong impression—“

“Keep it,” Ken said stopping him from taking the tie off by grabbing his hand. “You look good.”

Seishu glared at him for a moment. But Ken was unaffected. Staring back with a soft smile. Seishu eventually groaned and rolled his eyes. He let his hand drop from the tie. “Fine.” He began to head toward the door to leave. “You coming, Draken?”

“Make sure he doesn’t mess it up,” Shinichiro said to Ken before he moved to leave. Ken laughed and nodded.

“On it.”

Shinichiro had read ahead in the script. Currently, they were running a domestic scene. Wakasa was supposed to make hot chocolate for two and bring it to Shinichiro on the couch, then they were supposed to get close and watch T.V. A small conversation would happen before the scene was to end. But Shinichiro sat on the sofa and stared. He stared, and stared, and stared getting lost in his own head about the next scene. The one where they had to kiss on the couch when it was supposed to get fairly heated. Could Shinichiro do it? In front of a bunch of people? Could he? Or was he nothing but a failed actor.

“CUT.”

Shinichiro nearly jumped where he was sitting. He glanced up. Wakasa stood in front of him holding two cups. He placed them down on the table and turned his head.

“Are you alright, Shin?” Wakasa asked. They had been rolling. Wakasa had been waiting for Shinichiro to take the cup from him, but he was lost in his own thoughts.

“Oh,” Shinichiro muttered. He stood up from the couch, and Wakasa gave him space by taking a step back. “Sorry, I think I’m having an off day. Just—give me a minute. Sorry,” he excused. Shinichiro made his way outside.

Out the backdoor of the building Shinichiro left a box of cigarettes with enough taken out to slip a lighter inside. He pulled out the stick of tobacco and placed it between his lips. The lighter was a bit shitty, but he had it for years and couldn’t force himself to get rid of it. Seishu always warned him that lighters were already a hazard as it was, a broken one was worse, but Shinichiro told him he would take extra precaution.

What was distracting him? Well, that was obvious. The white leopard. Imaushi Wakasa. The acting practice a few days prior was getting to him. Driving Shinichiro insane. Wakasa was a good actor. A good enough actor to get Shinichiro to fall in love with his character. Because that was all it had been. Shinichiro fell in love with who Wakasa acted as, Jun Wakahiko.

“Shin?”

The cigarette nearly dropped from in between the slightly parted lips. Shinichiro turned his head over and pushed his back off from leaning against the wall to look at who stepped out. Wakasa looked worried for him. The inner ends of his white eyebrows were tilted up ever so slightly. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, it was the smallest detail, but Shinichiro was always looking close enough to spot it. If Shinichiro was being honest, the makeup decorating Wakasa’s faced looked silly outside being hit by the natural light of the sun. It was meant for LED stage lights.

“Are you okay?” Wakasa asked.

“I’m fine,” Shinichiro muttered turning his head away from Wakasa. He inhaled on the stick of tobacco, his lungs filling with the air and darkening his throat, and then he pushed the grey smoke out in front of him. “It’s nothing. I think I slept funny. Maybe on my neck or something.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Shinichiro felt a shiver. It felt the same as before. The same from when Wakasa had been on his lap, close, breathing against his skin. It was all Shinichiro could think about anymore. He inhaled the cigarette again.

“You’re lying to me,” Wakasa said. His voice was cold, but there was something to it, a hint of someone who cared. Shinichiro looked over only to be met with the purple eyes. Begging—or whatever begging was to a wild animal. His eyes were still sharp, but that was what Shinichiro liked about them.

Shinichiro laughed while pulling the cigarette from his lips, and it turned into a cough to which he brought up his hand for. He cleared his throat and made eye contact with the white leopard. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What?” Wakasa asked. “Just tell me. I’ll make sense of it,” he stubbornly said. Shinichiro laughed again. He tossed the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. Getting smoke around Wakasa’s beautiful skin probably wasn’t the best idea.

“I think—” Shinichiro paused, “I think you’re so good at acting that I fell in love with your character.”

“What?”

“I know, it’s stupid,” Shinichiro said. Wakasa was staring at him. His eyes had lifted a bit more in surprise. Like his fur seemed as if it were standing. And then he scoffed with a laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” Wakasa muttered. “Come back inside so we can actually do our job.”

After he had gotten it off his chest, Shinichiro was better. Fine. More than fine. It felt good. His crush was just on Jun Wakahiko. He was sure a lot of people had a crush on Wakasa’s acting.

Shinichiro headed to the gym. It was a new hobby. At least it was a good hobby. He entered the gym and hardly smelled the odor. It was something he had grown used to which was kind of gross to think about, but he didn’t care all that much. Not when he could spot a couple of familiar faces from across. He made his way over to them.

“Hey,” he said with a wave. He set down his duffle next to some weight equipment and looked around. “Where’s Wakasa?”

Benkei and Ken were there. Ken sat on the floor to stretch; his legs spread apart while he reached both arms for one of his toes. His legs were long, but his arms were still long enough for him to touch. It was kind of impressive. His flexibility helped for sure. Benkei stood behind some equipment to put some heavier weights on it.

“Wakasa?” Benkei asked, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. I texted him that Draken and I would be here, but he didn’t show—or text back for that matter.”

“Mhm,” Shinichiro hummed. “Our last set recording was kind of funny, I thought he’d like to laugh at me about it,” he commented.

Ken inquired. “What happened?”

“Well,” Shinichiro began to say, and he leaned against one of the weight racks which had enough weight on it—plus Shinichiro didn’t weigh much—so that it didn’t tip over, “I was wondering why I was so off recently, but I realized that Wakasa is so damn good at acting that I fell in love with his character.”

Benkei looked down at Ken, and simultaneously, Ken glanced up at him. But Ken kept quiet about what he was thinking. Benkei, however, put his eyes back over to Shinichiro.

“You told him that?”

“Yeah.”

“How did he react?” Benkei asked.

“He laughed,” Shinichiro said, “he did go quiet, but then he said we should head back to acting.” The actor shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Yo, Shinichiro!” Someone from across the gym shouted for him. Shinichiro glanced over his shoulder and waved at them with a smile. He quickly glanced at the two he had been speaking with.

“I’ll talk to you guys later,” he excused. He picked up his bag and ran off to join the other man.

“Did you hear that?” Benkei asked once Shinichiro had been gone. He kept his eyes on Shinichiro as the other walked away, but then he looked down at Ken. The younger one was watching Shinichiro too, but he eventually glanced up to meet eyes with Benkei as he spoke to him.

“Mhm?” Ken hummed. He stretched to the other leg.

“Wakasa started wearing dark clothes, you know. He’s coming here less frequently. He’s becoming lazy,” Benkei began to piece together. Ken squinted for a moment, and then he looked over at Shinichiro.

“Are you—” Ken paused because he didn’t want to sound stupid for being wrong, but he continued, “Are you implying Wakasa is acting like his character to appease Shinichiro?”

“Exactly.”

“But Shinichiro likes Wakasa for Wakasa,” Ken said. He sat up straight, drew his legs up, and rested his elbows to sit on his knees. “He just thinks it’s the character he likes.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

Ken sighed. “This is going to be a pain in the ass,” he muttered. “You’re going to have to talk to Wakasa.”

“Alright, but you have to talk to Shinichiro,” Benkei said.

“Talk to Shinichiro? You’re joking, right?” Ken scoffed. “Inupi is close to him, not me. You want me to walk up to him and be like, ‘Hey, I know I’m just the boyfriend of your almost-kid, but I have something to tell you about your love life’?”

Benkei squinted at him. “You’re picking up on some sarcasm from Inupi,” he said. A shiver ran through Ken, and he looked ahead. Fear struck in him.

“I think I am too,” Ken whispered. “Shit.” But Benkei laughed. He slapped a hand on Ken’s back and left to pick up another weight.

“Hurry up and stretch the rest of the way so we can start the workout. We can figure out what to do about them later.”

Benkei gripped onto the other’s ankle and tugged. As hard as he could. He pulled enough to break the white-haired man’s hold from the bedframe and drag him a little down the mattress. “You’re getting weak,” he commented. Which was true because never in a hundred years had Benkei been able to get Wakasa on the first try. He always had to wear down the other a bit before he could get a hit on him. And Wakasa was strong. If Benkei was being honest, and if it was off the record, Wakasa’s punches hurt.

“Well, that’s just not true,” Wakasa grumbled. Benkei had let go of him, so he used his feet and hands to help scramble to sit up. The blankets were thrown to the side, and Wakasa was revealed to be wearing sweatpants and a sweater to bed. At thirteen o’clock.

“Get up and try to fight me,” Benkei said crossing his arms over his chest.

“Seriously?”

“Stand up, Wakasa.”

Wakasa groaned, but he listened to his old friend and got to his feet. He bent down to pick up his comforter and threw it back on the bed. “Like you want me to actually try?”

“Try and kill me.”

So, Wakasa took an attempt at Benkei’s life. A serious one because he knew to always trust Benkei’s word the first time around. Say it was learned the hard way or whatever.

He darted at him, but Benkei dodged out of the way in time. Not even a graze. Wakasa frowned, but he didn’t take a lot of time to react so that he could try to get another hit in. He sent his elbow back from his newly gained step, but Benkei got out of the way of that as well. Actually, he grabbed him. There weren’t many times when Wakasa’s eyes opened all the way in shock, but they did when Benkei had a hold on his elbow and twisted it behind the other’s back.

“Gah!” Wakasa groaned and kneeled while he tried to get in a position where it didn’t hurt at bad. He kicked Benkei in the shin as hard as he could while he went down, and it was enough for Benkei to let go of him. He did a kick flip back to increase the distance between them.

But Benkei only needed two steps to close that new gap. He grabbed Wakasa by the shoulder and tossed him across the room. Wakasa felt his back slam into his office chair, and he toppled over with it, crashing to the floor and knocking over a few things.

“Fucking hell, Benkei,” Wakasa groaned while he rolled over onto his stomach. He folded his arms in front of him and dropped his forehead down.

“See? I told you,” Benkei said. He kneeled in front of Wakasa to get a better look of the shape he quite literally threw him into. Wakasa lifted his head to reveal a cut on his forehead. The corner of the desk got him.

“Getting hit always hurt me, Benkei,” Wakasa hissed. He didn’t say anything about how Benkei reached into his pocket and pressed a piece of cloth against the white leopard’s face. “Feeling the pain isn’t new. I’m not used to getting hit.”

“But now you did,” Benkei said showing Wakasa the bloody cloth. “Because you’re weak.”

“Fighting you doesn’t count.”

“Why are you not wanting to go to the gym?” Benkei changed the topic. “You love the gym.”

“The fuck do you want from me?”

“Come with me to the gym right now and prove you’re not any different,” Benkei said. “That is if you’re still fighting that you’re fine.”

Wakasa gritted his teeth. “Fine.”

The white leopard did the bare minimum. It was driving Benkei mad. He wouldn’t spot anybody properly, and he was texting on his phone or doing whatever people did on their phones. Benkei didn’t understand technology well. He was being pushed past him limit.

“Hello?”

So, Benkei called for a favor. “Keep Shinichiro away from the gym.”

“I know before that it was the Inupi talking in me—”

“Aha! What did you just say?!” There was laughing on the other end and the sound of a struggle. Seishu was wrestling for Ken to put the phone on speaker.

“—but I have no connection to Shinichiro in the way that I can just get him to do what I say.”

“You have Inupi there.”

“What am I doing?” It seemed Seishu’s goal to get the phone onto speaker worked. “What’s this about?”

“Hey, Inupi,” Benkei said.

“Benkei, what’s up?”

“Keep Shin away from the gym.”

“What for?” Seishu asked.

“I need Wakasa to get his ass kicked.”

“Shit. Can I come to the gym then? I want to see.”

“Inupi.”

“Do you not want to see that?” There was silence from Ken. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t go,” Seishu promised, “if you tell me why.”

“Draken can explain. I got to go. I have another call to make.”

It took ten minutes for Benkei’s other call to show up. The old gang members that liked to fight Wakasa from time to time to see if they had gotten any stronger. They were excited especially when Benkei told him that they probably had a chance. And Benkei knew that Wakasa couldn’t turn down a fight. Not if he was trying to keep up with the whole ‘I’m fine’ act.

So, he stepped into the ring with one of them at a time. He glared at Benkei from over the wires, but Benkei didn’t say anything. Instead, he watched the fights.

Each one, Wakasa was clearly getting weaker and weaker—as anyone would. But that was the problem. He was like anybody else. Not Wakasa. He got hit; he got hurt; he got bruised. And Wakasa felt it. The way that Benkei could see him grind his teeth whenever he got hurt.

Wakasa managed to defeat them all, but he was pissed. He hopped out of the ring and shoved a towel into Benkei’s chest. The giant didn’t move. Wakasa was utterly beat.

“Happy now?” Wakasa asked in a breathless whisper. Exhausted. “I’m heading to shower.

Wakasa showed up to the next recording with bruises. Somehow it had been a life saver from the next scene that Shinichiro had been stressing about. Akio, the director, had an idea after his concern for the actor was dismissed.

“Care!” Akio said.

“Huh?” Wakasa hummed. He sat on the edge of the stage with his feet hanging down. Shinichiro stood somewhere behind him.

“Caretaking scene. I think it’ll be good before the spicy scene. Like a build up! I want to add in more too, okay? I have some ideas, so let’s hold off on that scene. Increase the slow burn for the two. And with all these bruises—man, Imaushi, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Wakasa had said for the millionth time that hour. “Let’s do it. I think it’s a good idea. I have an idea for it too,” he said. Akio and Shinichiro nodded, and the actors moved to the set.

Shinichiro and his reminder; Wakasa’s deep breath.

“ACTION.”

Wakasa stepped through the door or staggered. His body ached. Off the record it hurt. He didn’t need to act anything. Shinichiro, who sat on the couch, glanced over his shoulder. And then his eyes widened. He was aways so good at making facial expressions, Wakasa thought. Shinichiro rushed over to him.

“Wakahiko?”

Right, I’m Wakahiko, Wakasa sighed mentally.

“Are you alright? Oh, my god,” Shinichiro said quickly. He guided him over to the couch and carefully sat him down. His touch was soft and caring even while acting. The way that the back of his hand trailed down the side of his face to touch it for any bumps or bruises. “I’ll be right back.”

Shinichiro disappeared for a mere second and came back with a first AID kit. It was real. Not a prop, but they never had any time to plan for a fake one. Shinichiro sat himself on the coffee table in front of Wakasa and opened the small box.

“Want to tell me what happened?” He asked. Shinichiro began to take out the medicine. He knew what he was doing. Of course, he did. Shinichiro had probably tended to more injuries than he could count. He sucked at fighting; he must have gotten his ass kicked countless times.

So, Wakasa told him the truth. The real-life truth. “My dickhead friend forced me to the gym,” he muttered.

“Haruto?” Shinichiro asked. It took Wakasa a moment before he remembered. ‘Haruto’. Right. Wakahiko’s high school friend that Inupi played for a few episodes. He’s amazing for even remembering that.

Wakasa nodded. And Shinichiro smiled while putting a bandaid over the small cut on Wakasa’s forehead. He put Wakasa’s face in his hands and reached up to press a light kiss against the injury. Wakasa froze.

“Well, maybe Haruto needs to learn that you’re not the strongest person out there, but your boyfriend is pretty awesome,” Shinichiro teased. No, Ren teased. Wakasa wished it was Shinichiro. ‘Boyfriend’ thought ‘strongest’ was definitely something to laugh about. It made Wakasa laugh, and he shoved Shinichiro’s shoulder.

“Idiot.”

“CUT.”

Since he was an actor, Shinichiro forgot that actors were famous. He was only semi-famous. People favored Wakasa’s character a lot more. Shinichiro couldn’t blame them. But Shinichiro still picked up the attention of fans.

He was out shopping when a group of girls ran up to him. The pack of instant noodles fell from his hands into his basket as he looked over in shock.

“Sano! Sano!” A girl with long red hair tugged on his arm slightly. “Oh, my god! It really is you! Can you sign this?” She pulled out a pen and paper. Of course, he signed it with a smile. While he did, she had scrambled to apologize for the outburst, but he reassured her that it was okay.

“What about Imaushi!? Where is he?” Another girl jumped to ask.

“Wakasa?” Shinichiro asked.

“He’s not doing the grocery shopping with you? Does that mean you know what he likes?”

Shinichiro paused for a few moments until he pieced together the misunderstanding. “Oh. Wakasa and I don’t live together,” he said with a laugh.

“What?!” The girls sounded shocked. “You two aren’t—” she paused and bit her lip. “You two aren’t a real couple?” One with short, blue hair asked. Shinichiro laughed. He shook his head.

“No, no. Just pretending to be on a T.V. show.”

The last girl, blonde hair with chopped bangs, frowned. “Really?” She asked. If Shinichiro was correct, she sounded disappointed. “We really thought you two were a real couple. I mean, your acting just seemed so real,” she said.

“Well, Wakasa is a very talented actor,” Shinichiro said. “I’m glad to be working with him.”

“You must be too then! I mean both of you seem real,” the one with red hair chimed in. “You have to have a crush on him or something.”

Shinichiro laughed, but he didn’t say anything. No. Not on Wakasa.

“Do you?”

“Huh?”

“Have a crush on Imaushi?”

“Oh.” Oh. Shinichiro shook his head. “His character I do. Jun.” The girls didn’t seem sold, but they still nodded.

“We see,” the blonde one said.

“I think there’s potential,” the blue-haired girl said.

“Maka!” The red-haired one nudged the blue-haired one, Maka. “Come on. Sorry to bother you. Thank you for your autograph!”

Shinichiro unpacked the groceries by himself. Seishu was out with Ken. The house was quiet as he piled and grouped the things on the counter and thought to himself. Was he thinking right now or before? Before he had said it had been Wakasa, but ever since his talk outside with the white leopard, he drew to the conclusion that it was on his character. But what was true? Who was he kissing? That night.

“I mean both of you seem so real.”

Shinichiro couldn’t get Wakasa out of his head before.

Most of his reactions to everything were real. Genuine. When he saw Wakasa hurt, his heart really did drop. He honestly did want to drop everything and heal him, help him, care to him. But he held back every time. He held back grabbing his face and asking if he was okay when he seemed off or hugging him from behind when Shinichiro begun to feel frustrated.

He slammed the cabinet shut. It’s Wakasa, not Wakahiko.

It was the worst when you had to pretend to like someone when you actually did genuinely like them. Shinichiro didn’t know how to act. Again. He was stuck in the same spot he was before but worse. And it was terrible because the next scene was supposed to be a fight filled with harsh words and emotions, and Shinichiro wasn’t sure if he could do it properly. Cancel the show, he thought, but then he realized he would never be an actor if he had to do that.

Ren was spending too much time at the gym and Wakahiko was supposed to confront him about it. Because he was angry about it, and missing him, and thought that constantly wearing and tearing his body couldn’t possibly be good for him.

Shinichiro took a deep breath.

“ACTION.”

Shinichiro staggered through the front door as he had done a ton of times before. But this time he had to act sore from pain from the gym. It reminded him of the one of the scenes he had done a long while back in the first season. One of the first ones. When Shinichiro was actually sore from the real gym and the two improvised together for the first time without having to talk to each other about it.

Wakasa kept his eyes on him as he entered the fake apartment. Shinichiro moved slowly after dropping his duffle bag by the front door and walked to sit on the couch. Wakasa leaned back on the sofa, an irritated look with his arms crossed.

“What?” Shinichiro asked as Ren. His voice was light as his character wasn’t typically one to be angry to begin with, but he tried to make himself a little strained from the sore muscles he supposedly had.

“You’re late.”

“Late?”

Wakasa pointed toward the kitchen. “Do you know how long the food has been ready for? You said you would be here an hour ago,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” Shinichiro apologized. He moved closer to Wakasa on the couch, but the other turned his head away and tired to sink further back into the cushions. “I got caught up at the gym,” he quietly muttered showing that realized Wakahiko was being distant.

“You spend too much time there.”

“What?”

“I said you spend too much time there.” Suddenly, Wakasa was on his feet. He looked angry. Not even Shinichiro liked the look of it. Wakasa. Angry. No, this is Wakahiko. Get your mind together. “You can’t just say you’re going to be here and not be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry means it won’t happen again, Ren,” Wakasa as Wakahiko hissed. The white leopard’s fangs were truly showing. Shinichiro shivered. “This is the sixth time.” He snatched up his prop phone from the couch cushions and headed to the front door.

“Waka—” Shinichiro tripped on his words. He had almost said Wakasa. Thank god the names were so similar. “Where are you going?” Shinichiro was up and off the couch after his fake boyfriend.

“I’m leaving,” Wakasa muttered struggling to slip on his shoes to show how angry he was that he couldn’t focus on a simple task. He was too good at acting. Wakasa was too good.

Shinichiro grabbed Wakasa by the wrist. And the purple eyes shot him a look back. The black-haired man felt like Wakasa was actually mad at him—was mad at Shinichiro, not Ren. He had to say something. Say something even if it didn’t make sense. Had to make up for what he didn’t do.

“Waka, wait. Don’t—please don’t leave,” Shinichiro began. “I like you. A lot. Too much, I think,” he muttered. “I wasn’t even sure if it was real at first, I thought it was something different, like I was speaking to a completely different person. But I thought about it, and I thought about it for so long, I thought my head was going to explode, but I get it now.” Shinichiro laughed because he knew he sounded ridiculous. His eyes shifted down to the floor. His fingers were still curled around Wakasa’s wrist but with no bite to it.

Wakasa wasn’t pulling away either. He had his eyes locked on Shinichiro, and his full attention was his.

“It’s not anybody else but you. I end up seeing you every single time I close my eyes to try and reach a different answer, but I keep coming up with you.” Fuck. Right. The scene. “Please stay,” Shinichiro added.

Wakasa nearly flinched. His posture was straight, up in attention. Sharp. Shinichiro slowly lifted his head up. He was close enough to watch and notice how Wakasa bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe a little bit too hard. And slowly, he nodded. They stared at each other because none of anything that happened had been in the script. Ren was meant to let Wakahiko leave.

“CUT.”

“Wow!” The reaction was almost instant. Shinichiro and Wakasa jumped away from each other. The hold on his wrist was finally gone. They turned their attention to the director, Akio. “That was—I mean that wasn’t nearly what we had planned, but wow, you two never fail to impress me. You write the show yourselves!”

Shinichiro pursed his lips and stole a glance over to Wakasa. He was looking over at him. So, Shinichiro quickly turned his head away again.

“We have to rewrite for sure, and the writers have to think, so you’re free to leave for the day.”

Shinichiro hit the button on his car keys. The beep. He walked to his vehicle with the means to leave right away. But there was someone grabbing his arm. Shinichiro turned almost immediately. Wakasa stood there. One of his hands were on his bag that was hanging on his shoulder and the other handheld his upper arm.

“Wait,” Wakasa said quietly. “What was that all about?” He asked. Shinichiro stayed quiet. He thought to honesty. Should he be?

“I was just—” Shinichiro paused, “saying how I felt. I put myself into my acting.” Wakasa’s hand slowly slipped from Shinichiro’s arm. Shinichiro took that time to open his car door and reached into the vehicle to start it. But Wakasa was still standing there staring. Not saying a word. “That’s what makes a good actor,” he said while tossing his bag into the front seat of his car.

He was about to climb into it, but Wakasa pulled him from it. For a moment, he was strong in a scary way. Like Shinichiro thought he was going to throw him to the floor of the parking lot. But he didn’t. Wakasa reached for Shinichiro and grabbed the back of his neck. He pulled him down to his height and kissed him. A real kiss. Shinichiro knew it was a hundred percent real. There was no excuse for acting or practice. Wakasa was kissing him.

The white leopard moved away slowly, fingertips holding onto the sides of Shinichiro’s face as he landed back on his heels. He pursed his lips. “Call me tomorrow after you wake up,” Wakasa said. “I’ve obviously got my car to take home, and I have some things to do tonight, but—” Wakasa paused. “Yeah, just—call me.”

The next morning Shinichiro stared at his phone before getting ready for the day. He woke up and leaned over on his knees while sitting on his bed. His phone was there on the nightstand.

“Yeah, just—call me.”

He had to call him. But what if it wasn’t real? He had just woken up from a nap.

No, it was real.

The phone rang, and rang, and Shinichiro was beginning to feel like he made a mistake. But it picked up.

“Yeah?” Wakasa sounded a little out of breath. There were loud noises in the background. He was at the gym. It was eight. “Oh, shit. Shin.”

“The gym this early?”

“Yeah,” Wakasa said with a laugh.

“I’ll come and join you,” Shinichiro said. He stood up to find clothes in his dresser. “I’ll be right there.”

“Alright. I’ll be here.”

Shinichiro headed to the gym. Pair of gym shorts and a black v neck. He looked around for Wakasa but didn’t spot him. There was a regular that was there that knew them. So, Shinichiro walked up to him. “Hey, have you seen Waka?” He asked.

“Boxing ring.”

“Thanks.”

He found him in the ring. It seemed like he was just finishing kicking the old gang member’s asses. They were making their way off the stage to head to get patched up from whatever damage Wakasa had done to them. The white leopard made his way over to the ring wires and leaned on them to talk with Benkei. From over the giant’s shoulder, he could see Shinichiro. And he stood up straight.

Benkei looked over his shoulder. He could read the room. The giant said his goodbye the other and left the room to help the others with their injuries.

“Do you want to fight?” Wakasa offered. Shinichiro laughed. He nodded.

“Yeah.”

They faced each other and stood on opposite sides of the ring. Until Wakasa realized he was going to switch it up a bit. He was going to attack first.

Wakasa darted forward, but not nearly as fast as he could. That was obvious. He was holding himself back. Shinichiro was able to dodge a punch. He moved to the side. And Wakasa did another attack with his elbow to throw it back. It nudged Shinichiro in the side, but it didn’t hurt—not Wakasa who wasn’t used to pain and not Shinichiro who would normally have been pained from an attack from the white leopard.

It headed on like that for a while. Shinichiro got a few hits in too, but even he was drawing back a little bit of strength—as if he needed to. Eventually, Wakasa put in enough power to knock Shinichiro against the wires of the ring. But it wasn’t enough to bounce him off. Shinichiro held onto the barrier staring at Wakasa. The white leopard approached him quietly like he was stalking prey. And then he leaned forward onto the middle wire and pushed it back. Shinichiro wondered what he was doing. That was until Wakasa let go and stepped to the side. The wire swung and struck Shinichiro in the back knocking him to the ground. He groaned a little and rolled onto his back.

The white leopard grinned and stepped over to him. He kneeled beside him and turned his head in question.

“How are you feeling?” Wakasa asked.

“My back hurts now,” Shinichiro said honestly. There had to be a growing red line on his back by the imprint of the strong band.

“And?”

Shinichiro sighed and laughed staring up at the ceiling past Wakasa’s white hair. “I feel like I got my ass kicked even while you weren’t trying?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty weak,” Wakasa said. “It’s cute actually,” he commented. Shinichiro stayed quiet. But Wakasa smiled and helped him sit up. He reached over to fix Shinichiro’s messy black hair.

“What are we doing?” Shinichiro quietly whispered.

“I’m not even sure.”

Shinichiro bit his lip. “Come over for dinner.”

Wakasa raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”

“I want to cook you something,” he muttered. “I’ll kick Inupi out of the house. It’ll just be us,” he said. Or maybe he was begging. He desperately wanted the other to come over. And Wakasa laughed, and he nodded.

“Okay.”

Seishu stared at the bills shoved into his hands. “What?” He asked.

“Get out.”

“You’re paying me to leave?” Seishu asked with a scoff.

“I’m paying for your dinner tonight,” Shinichiro said. He picked up his apron that hung on a hook in the kitchen and pulled it over his head. Thank God it wasn’t something that made Seishu cringe like a Kiss The Cook or something stupid like that. “Go out to eat.”

“What’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, you’re a bad fucking liar,” Seishu muttered. He was about to argue more.

“Be glad?” Suddenly, there was a hand on Seishu’s back. The blonde jumped a little and looked over his shoulder. “He’s paying for our dinner.”

“God, when the fuck did you get there?” Seishu asked in a mutter. Ken was far too quiet to be human.

“We’ll head out, Shinichiro,” Ken said ignoring Seishu complaint. He pushed on the blonde’s back toward the door to get him to get his shoes on. “Do whatever. We’ll go to my place after too.”

Thank God for Ken. Shinichiro was able to cook without the stress of the blonde and he was able to keep his promise to Wakasa that he would kick Seishu out so that they had the house to himself. He set up the table like a fancy dinner. Plates, glasses, napkins, the silverware lined in the correct order—or whatever Shinichiro guessed to be the correct order.

Wakasa showed up. On time when he said he would. He invited himself in because why not? Wakasa took off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen. He peered his head in on time for Shinichiro to turn around with a bowl of cooked rice.

“Oh, Wakasa,” Shinichiro said. He had nearly caused him to drop it all. “You’re here.”

The two sat down to eat. It was nice, Wakasa thought. And sweet. Probably the sweetest thing that anyone had ever done for him. A home cooked meal. If anything, people took him out to dinners and paid for his appetizer. It was really nice. Wakasa could live like this. He enjoyed listening to Shinichiro tell stories about him and his siblings when they were younger, the embarrassing things they would do, the embarrassing things he would do.

And then he left to clean up. He grabbed their two plates and headed into the kitchen. Wakasa didn’t want to do absolutely nothing, so he picked up a couple of dishes and followed Shinichiro.

He set them down on the counter and looked over at Shinichiro. The other was scrubbing away on the plates. He moved to set them over to dry when he turned his head to catch Wakasa’s eye. And then he smiled and laughed.

“What?” Shinichiro asked. “Why are you looking at me?”

“It’s nice.”

“What is?”

“This,” Wakasa muttered. He touched Shinichiro’s chin and tugged it down a little. Enough for him to kiss him. “I like this. I like you.”

“You like domesticity?” Shinichiro asked. And Wakasa smiled, those large white fangs coming into view. Shinichiro finally got sight of them. Beautiful smile.

“I think I do.”

Shinichiro shut off the water and picked up a towel to dry off his hands. He tossed it to the side on the counter, and Wakasa’s eyes followed it, but they were soon taken back by Shinichiro’s eyes when the other grabbed his chin. Soft hold. He tilted it up to look at him. A kiss. Sweet at first. Shinichiro kissed Wakasa how he wanted to the first time. With real feelings and emotions. But he held nothing back. It was sweet.

He licked his lips when he pulled away and then looked at Wakasa. For a moment, and then he dropped his head.

“What’s wrong?” Wakasa asked.

“Nothing,” Shinichiro quickly said. “Just—uh, do you—“ he paused.

“What?”

“Want to go practice some lines?”

Wakasa laughed. Probably the loudest laugh of the night. He kissed Shinichiro once more and then tugged on the other’s shirt. “Let’s go.”