Chapter Text
He leaned back in the chair, listening it creaking under his weight. He looked up at the ceiling, finding it all insulated with foam so that no sound could be heard outside. Aoba's days were monotonous, he would get up, eat and go sit in his studio to work for several hours. Right now he was working on a new singer’s track, who, if all went well, would be stopping by in a few weeks to shoot the video together.
He sighed heavily, getting up and sitting down on the couch right behind him where several times he had fallen asleep late at night working.
He had achieved the unthinkable, making a living doing what he loved most, and everything that went with it was sick, the people, the collaborations, the freedom... but he never believed that he would, at some point, have to hide.
Aoba had, officially, a stalker.
In the last few months he had received messages, letters, pictures of him going shopping... and the fucking joke was the box. It's not like he didn't get fan mail, it was rare but not unusual, and they always added some item or any candy for Ren, in short, normal people.
Mizuki's face when he opened the box was indescribable, he didn't take out what was in it, and quickly went to throw it away, though before that Aoba took a peek. A stuffed rat with his same hair and clothes he was wearing in the last video. He had to admit that, at first, he was quite amused.
And this was the point where Mizuki, his "representative", decided to do something. And this is how Aoba had spent several days locked up at home, and only going to the studio to work.
The situation was getting on his nerves. He felt trapped, always followed, spied on, without a shred of privacy in his life. Fuck it. Rage took hold of him, and turning off all the equipment, he left the studio in the middle of the night.
The music was bombarding his ears, letting himself be carried away by it, and quietly sipping a drink or two. He had been dancing for about a while now, a little dizzy from the lights and the people coming to dance with him, but he was feeling like it was the first time he had ever been out. Until he saw him. Those eyes piercing him like lasers, watching him from the bar.
His movements slowly stopped, consumed with rage. He took a slow breath, approaching the man, and without looking at him, ordered another drink.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Can't you, I don't know, stop following me?"
"Hello to you too."
"It'd be great if you ever stopped following me." Aoba looked at the man, who didn't look back but instead looked at him through the mirror behind the bartender.
"You know I can't." He drank calmly from his glass, laughing a little at his impulsiveness, ever since he saw him it looked like he was going to jump at him, and he found that endearing.
Aoba couldn't stand it. He wanted to grab him by his low ponytail and drag him out of the club, for the moment it was the only place where he had felt liberated and in a few seconds that unreasonable happiness had vanished. Before he could answer him, the drink was served.
"Ugh." He let out heavily before gulping down the cocktail without tasting it, pointing at Koujaku as he looked at the bartender. "He's paying." He spun without even looking at him, turning back to the dance floor.
But even though he'd been dancing for a while now, it wasn't the same, he felt his gaze locked on him, eyes surrounding him. He had to leave.
Quickly he left the dance floor, going straight to the exit, relaxing in the cold night air, and closing his jacket, he began to walk back to his apartment, knowing full well that the brunet was following him. In a fit of nerves and anger he began to run, though the footsteps followed him, coming dangerously close, matching his pace. Aoba's resistance was minuscule, and even if he tried to run further, his strength didn't help, and with ease, he was grabbed by the arm, stopping him in his tracks, almost stumbling.
"Don't touch me!" Aoba broke away, pushing him off his chest to create distance between the two.
"Why did you start running like crazy? Do you want to get killed? Jump into the road?" Aoba looked behind him, seeing the road dangerously close, just one inches away from stepping into it, but still hardly any cars were passing.
"I want you to leave me!" he shouted.
"You know I can't." Koujaku's words sounded harsh, falling heavily on Aoba, and from the first time at the club he could see his serious face, knowing he would never leave him.
The helplessness that was feeling made him almost cry.
"I know..." He said softly, looking down at the ground with his hands in his pockets.
Koujaku's hand gently rested on the other's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and pulling him close in a half hug, he began to lead him towards home. And though Aoba wouldn't admit it, he felt safe under the arm of his new bodyguard.