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It hit Shu out of the blue one summer afternoon.
After a few months of flitting between Paris and Japan, not really doing his duties as an idol (and trying to ignore the fact that he was taking the stubbornly loyal Kagehira down with him), Shu had finally caved to Anzu's relentless pleas. MDM was coming up, and if ever there was a place for Valkyrie to make their return, it was an event like that. That's what Anzu had said, anyway.
Back to the topic at hand. Kagehira hadn't been at the airport when Shu had returned, which had surprised him more than he cared to admit. Usually, the other Valkyrie trailed his every step, bright-eyed and eager, and he'd come to expect a cheerful greeting as soon as he exited the plane.
Maybe it was Shu's fault for expecting it, an insidious little voice whispered in the back of his mind. Shu pushed the worrisome thought aside, grabbed his luggage, and strode off the airstrip with the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples.
The trip back to Ensemble Square continued to be strangely Kagehira-free. By the time Shu reached the dorms, an infuriating ball of worry pressed against his sternum. Opening the door to an empty apartment didn't ease his concern in the slightest – for the first time in months, Shu began to drum his fingers against his leg. The nervous habit would've increased his ire had not Shu been entirely preoccupied with where Mi- Kagehira was.
He never texted first. That was just a fact of life. If Shu needed something, he called the individual in question. If someone texted him, Shu considered whether to reply until he either reached a conclusion, the sender gave up, or they sent another message.
But some rules were meant to be broken, it seemed, because Shu pulled his phone from his pocket, opened Hold-hands, and navigated to the most recent conversation – which had last been active two weeks previous.
Shu: I'm back. Where are you?
Simple, to the point. Hopefully, Kagehira would be his usual self and ignore that he'd received a text, not the other way around. Shu set his phone on the table and started a five-minute mental timer. Kagehira was religious about answering texts, which had always seemed directly at odds with his laidback personality, but it was helpful for time-sensitive matters. And this was definitely time-sensitive because Shu was back, and didn't that warrant a reaction of some kind?
Ten minutes later, Shu had buried his phone beneath a pillow, settled in an armchair by the window, and resorted to a breathing exercise to calm his rising nerves.
He'd never told anyone about his rampant anxiety. It had followed him since childhood, and over the years, people had mistakenly read Shu's meticulousness as mere precision rather than a desperate attempt to keep the world under his control. It'd worked, he supposed, especially in the Academy, where sewing doll clothes was viewed as a quirk rather than a calming ritual.
Maybe Shu had leaned too heavily into their assumptions. It pained him to even consider it, but it was true; he'd almost fooled himself into thinking he was a born and bred artist. That his fascination with art hadn't started as a way to lose himself.
Fifteen minutes, his mental timer reported brightly. Nothing from Kagehira.
Could the other man be asleep? Unlikely, it was 4 in the afternoon, and he only slept in his bedroom. Or Kagehira's phone might not be charged. Also unlikely since he valued being in contact with his friends.
...was Kagehira ignoring him?
And then, like a bludgeon to the back of his head, Shu realized something. It wasn't a new concept; he thought more than the average person on any given day, and his late nights had always been conducive to soul-searching explorations. But, sitting in an empty dorm at 4 PM on a Friday afternoon, Shu couldn't escape the realization.
He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to miss attentive eyes, a bright smile, and plain yet insightful asides.
Shu pretended he was above the crowd, which was why he didn't interact with Valkyrie's fans. Shu announced to the world that he was a man of art, and art demanded impassivity, so, thus, he must be.
Because the world of idols had no place for anxious meltdowns. Ensemble Square punished inaction, and the emotional child found themself starving.
Shu smacked himself across the face. It stung like hell, but it broke him from his downhill spiral. The dorm was still empty, and Shu's heart skipped along in double time, but he could breathe. And that was all that mattered. One step at a time until he could reassemble his armor and seal himself within an invisible, porcelain shell.
A few minutes later, Shu pocketed his phone and exited the dorm.
Half an hour, his brain supplied as he entered the restaurant. All other possibilities unlikely, it added as he sat at a table for two. Then, as loudly as a drumbeat: Kagehira is ignoring you.
So what if he is? Shu thought crossly, opening his menu with a flick. He appreciated the efficiency of online ordering, but the aesthetic of a golden-tipped menu was too good to pass up. I'll speak to him and Anzu tomorrow so we can chart a plan to reach MDM. The dignity of that statement was immediately smeared by his next thought. What could he be doing right now?
The list flew through his head, eagerly supplied by that damned anxious part of his brain. Sleeping, working our, eating elsewhere, ignoring Shu, reading (unlikely), spending time with friends (wasn't he part of that idol shopping group?), ignoring-
Shu snapped his menu shut with far more force than was necessary. The lamination crinkled in protest, but Shu set it aside without a second glance, opened his phone, and placed his order.
33 minutes. No response.
If there was one thing Shu had always prided himself on, it was his ability to avoid unpleasant topics. He'd had a whole lifetime of experience, and now, he utilized every second of it.
First on his to-do list was to contact Wataru and announce his return. The taller man has always been kind to him, and Shu had genuinely missed working with Dramatica. Hopefully, he hadn't missed too many productions. Oh, and Shu had to let Hidaka know he would be attending CRAFTMONSTER's meetings again. God, always so much to do. But, admittedly, connecting with other idols had always been the least stressful part of the lifestyle.
Anzu knew Shu had returned; she'd already arranged a Valkyrie meeting for tomorrow morning. They couldn't directly aim for MDM, so what would come first? There was the-
“Oi! Teach!”
Shu's very being flagged the voice as “safe” before his brain registered the words. By the time Shu recognized the lumbering cadence, a lithe figure had burst from the crowd and wrapped lean arms around his waist, burying their face in his shoulder.
“I didn't know you were gettin' in tonight!” the figure continued, speaking the words into Shu's shoulder. “You hafta tell me stuff like that! I woulda come back sooner!”
Shu blinked once. Twice. Fueled by some deeply buried instinct, he gingerly returned the hug, and his assailant let out a barely perceptible sigh. When they pulled back, Shu was greeted by eager heterochromatic eyes and the broad smile he'd been missing.
“You were in town?” Shu asked, just to disguise his stuttering brain. That brilliant grin had shut down his higher functioning, and Shu was absolutely not going to consider why.
Mi- Kagehira finally relinquished his hold (Shu instantly felt a bit colder), and his smile turned sheepish. “Ah, I like goin' out to the city this time of year,” he explained, sinking into the other chair with all the casualness of someone who'd had their name carved into the backseat. Briefly, Shu wondered at Kagehira's boldness. How many people would willingly sit with him? “Less people,” the other Valkyrie continued absently. “'Tis easier to get around.”
That was a common bond between them, though Shu had never admitted it. A certain hesitance around strangers. Kagehira didn't like the “rules” of social interaction, and Shu's skin crawled at all the uncertainty. Why had he never admitted that?
“Have you eaten yet?” Shu pressed, slightly more coherent.
Kagehira's smile morphed into a wince. “Are you gonna get mad if I tell you the truth?”
The deflection was answer enough. Shu's first reaction was anger, because, damn it, Kagehira needed to be in good shape for them to have any hope of getting into MDM! But his head was still fuzzy, his leg jittered from being out in the restaurant during the dinner rush, and Kagehira smiled at him, faint yet genuine.
Some wild combination of those three factors persuaded Shu to say, “Pick something. I'll add it to my order.”
“Don't worry about me, Teach,” Kagehira instantly protested, raising his hands in alarm. “I'll eat somethin' later, really! I haven't been eatin' three meals, anyway, so one more day won't-”
The other man seemed to realize his blunder just as Shu caught on, and Kagehira recoiled a bit, resting his hands awkwardly on the table. Shu scowled and reached out, snatching the other Valkyrie's wrist.
“You're stiff,” he accused. Kagehira kept his multi-colored eyes fixed on his lap, so Shu pressed his fingers into the valley of the shorter man's wrist. “You understand how integral diet is to your health?” he hissed without any real venom. “I only left because I assumed you'd keep yourself in good condition.”
It was a conversation they'd had a thousand times before, repeated every time Shu returned from Paris. One could almost consider it a routine, the way Kagehira confessed that he'd slipped from Shu's training regime and Shu's irate chiding. Over and over. The performer and his strict puppeteer.
But this time, the rant caught in Shu's throat.
What right did he have to lecture Kagehira, truly? It wasn't as if Shu was any better. Sometimes, he only ate one meal a day, either because he forgot or wasn't hungry, and it wreaked havoc on his physical capabilities.
Suddenly, Shu thought of the dolls in his suitcase, and Mademoiselle, a nostalgic creation. He thought of how he'd directed their Lives in the past, then of their evolving choreography. Finally, he glanced at Mika Kagehira, who watched him with such innocent, honest worry that it made Shu's stomach twist.
It struck him then, a second realization in as many minutes, crashing through his mental structures and leaving him reeling. This was a human. A living, breathing human with goals, ambitions, and a history Shu knew pitifully little about. He'd been encouraging Kagehira to express himself naturally while still treating his partner (for that was what a unit had to be) as a doll. A nonliving entity.
A sick clamminess enveloped Shu's hands. A thousand thoughts clattered in his head, the churn of his stomach made him feel ill, and he had to leave now, right now, dinner be damned.
“Teach?” Kagehira rested his free hand over Shu's, and the gentle touch felt like a rush of cool water.
“We're leaving,” Shu bit out. He couldn't put his usual authority behind it, though. Kagehira frowned but immediately complied. After a few unstable steps, Kagehira wrapped an arm under Shu's shoulders to better guide him, and for once, Shu couldn't work up the energy to fight back. Kagehira was steady beneath him, a wiry bundle of muscle and passion. Each step towards freedom eased the knot in his chest.
By the time they'd emerged into the afternoon sunlight, Shu could breathe normally again. He shoved Kagehira away, muttering some bullshit sentiment like, “I am fully capable of walking by myself,” but his legs still trembled. Kagehira hovered a step closer than usual, too, jostling their elbows every so often.
Shu shouldn't have been so unsettled by the realization that Kagehira was human. He'd always known that, logically, since he berated the other Valkyrie to eat right and stretch and sleep, as well as everything else on the nonexistent checklist. But it was different when Kagehira watched him with a slight frown, and Shu realized he had no idea why. Was Kagehira worried about their unit's performance? Or did he personally care about Shu?
God. What an awful time to have a life-altering epiphany. Shu was still starving, and now, his ideas for their new Lives were out the window. The choreography had to be altered, too... maybe he could salvage some of it?
Shu thought of Kagehira twisting in a way human bodies shouldn't bend and barely repressed a shudder.
No. No salvage. A fresh start or nothing at all.
“How long have you been back, Teach?”
Kagehira's chipper voice broke through Shu's mental whirlwind like a hammer through glass. He stumbled for a moment, then adopted the closest affectation to his usual self he could manage.
“Less than an hour. I messaged you on Hold-hands.”
Guilt creased Kagehira's face. “Ah, sorry,” he mumbled. “I left my phone in the dorm. Didn't notice until I tried to pay at this new candy shop.” Just like that, the clouds cleared from his eyes, and Kagehira pulled a small paper bag from his pocket. “I got some for you, too, Teach,” the shorter man added brightly. “I was hopin' they'd last until you got back, but it's better if you have 'em while they're fresh! The guy workin' there said they were French candies. I don't know anythin' about that, but I hope he's right!”
Slowly, Shu accepted the bag and peered inside. The candies were individually wrapped, vaguely pyramidal in shape. He certainly couldn't discern their origin or inspiration from the plastic wrappers, but the mere fact that Kagehira had been thinking of him...
“Thank you, Mika,” Shu muttered, and he carefully folded the parcel. “I will try them later.”
No response. Odd, Kagehira usually lit up when-
Kagehira-
Mika-
Oh.
Shu spent exactly five seconds mentally berating himself before accepting the blunder. Of course, he'd spent the past few months fighting the urge to refer to the other Valkyrie by his first name, and that said a hell of a lot. Shu inhaled deeply, cursed his name to the winds one last time, then glanced over his shoulder.
Kagehira stared at him, wide-eyed and slightly slack-jawed. Shu probably would've thrown a punch if anyone else had such an expression at him. But it was Kagehira, so he merely crossed his arms.
“I know I've been instructing you to be natural, but mimicking a tree was hardly the effect I desired.”
Eugh. A bad joke with a flat execution. Another low he usually never stooped to. Then Kagehira lit up, his shocking rescinding like a rolling wave, and Shu found that the little ding to his pride had been well worth it.
“You mean it?”
What a stupid, open-ended question. Any sane person would've interpreted it as a query about their choreography.
“Of course I do,” Shu said, a touch more testily than was necessary. He was over-compensating, and he knew it, but Kagehira was still beaming at him, and his chest had tightened in a way that wasn't altogether bad. “I never say things I don't mean, Mika.”
K- Mika's smile grew to bursting, and he reanimated with a giggle. “I know, Teach,” he said brightly, jogging to Shu's side. “Just makin' sure I understand. Sometimes it takes me a few tries.”
But you always get there, Shu wanted to say. You're the only person who attempts to understand me. “Thank you for clarifying,” was what he muttered aloud. Mika just kept grinning, all tooth and achingly genuine, and Shu turned away before he could say something truly out of pocket. “Come. I'll order food to be delivered at the studio.”
“Whatever you say!” Mika chirped.
Their studio, #390, wasn't really “theirs,” but Shu was a creature of habit, and Mika preferred not to have to relearn the positions of supplies each week. So, when Shu unlocked Studio #390, he flicked on the lights while Mika made a beeline for the yoga mats. Usually, Shu would follow some ostentatious and mostly performative routine, then join Mika for the actual rehearsal. Today, however, Shu rolled his shoulders, winced at how tight he was, and grabbed a mat of his own.
If Mika was a little more focused and deliberate than usual, Shu wouldn't speak a word of it.
By standard convention, a unit's training was usually conducted by a trainer or producer. Idols were not without constraints, and the end goal was popularity. Thankfully, Shu's eccentricity (and the positive fan reaction to it) had allowed him more lenience than others received. For example, solo sessions.
Shu had never been more appreciative of his own oddities. He didn't want any judging producers or stern trainers to hear what he was about to say.
“We'll be doing something else today.”
Mika paused halfway through the choreography they'd been working on before Shu's trip to France. His right foot rested neatly against the floor, perfectly poised without a single shudder, and for the first time, Shu marveled at the shorter man's balance and strength. He'd never utilized his partner's full abilities, had he?
“A new move?” Mika asked, as eager as always. “I was actually gonna ask if you could walk me through the set again. I lost the rhythm while you were gone. I'm sorry.”
“No, nothing like that.” Shu took another deep breath (god, maybe he'd hit his head without realizing it), then forced the words out. “It's a new set. I want you to be the puppet master.” Mika blanched, his foot dropping to the ground with a thud, and Shu hurried on. “It's only an exercise. It's certainly not what we'll be doing during a performance. But I am... stiff, and I want to challenge your creativity.”
Mika visibly floundered for a moment, then flapped his hands helplessly. “I don't know a thing about maintenance, Teach,” he protested, and panic pitched his voice up a bit. “I- I thought you'd wanna tune me, since I know I'm not runnin' like you want. I-”
“It's a simple exercise, Mika,” Shu interrupted. To his great surprise, Mika instantly fell silent. A faint dusting of pink touched his cheeks, but Shu wrote it off as an aftereffect of his panic and pressed on. “We aren't 'tuning' each other. We're warming up. I haven't practiced in several weeks, and you aren't confident in your movement. So I am challenging us.”
“You... haven't practiced?”
Merde. Leave it to Mika to latch onto the most shameful piece of that little speech. Still, there was no use in lying, so Shu inclined his head haltingly. Mika relaxed at the admission, at least. After a few more silent moments, the other Valkyrie drew his shoulders back.
“Alright, Teach,” he murmured. “I'll try.”
If he wasn't so proud, Shu would've admitted that he was nervous, too – almost fearful of being under another's control. But he swallowed his anxiety and crossed the room, selecting one of the many instrumentals from their warm-up playlist. It was nothing spectacular, just a violin piece of European origin. A familiar presence in unfamiliar waters.
Shu returned to the middle of the studio, and he kept his gaze fixed steadily on the far wall. Mika stood behind him, frozen. Nerves bubbled in Shu's stomach, frothing and burning, and just as he was about to snap for the shorter man to do something, a hand rested lightly on his shoulder.
Oh. That felt... bizarre. Not unwelcome, just strange.
Mika's other hand rested against his slack arm, gently pushing it forward. “You're so stiff,” he murmured, rocking Shu's arm experimentally. It was true; even such a simple movement made Shu's shoulder clunk. “I know it's not my place, but the exercise you gave me really help with stiffness.” Shu must've stiffened, either from being bossed around or the manual manipulation, because Mika's touch instantly became lighter. “Sorry, Teach.”
Had it been any other day under any other circumstances, Shu would've stopped the “challenge” right there and done things the usual way. The “proper” way. As it was, he just ground his teeth before muttering,
“Call me Shu.”
Mika froze. Shu made an impatient noise, and the shorter man hurriedly resumed the gentle motions. But he was hesitant, uncertain, and they both knew it.
And then:
“You mean that, too?”
Shu took a deep breath and forced his body to relax as much as possible. He'd always instructed the other Valkyrie to be like putty beneath his hands, and he'd be damned if he couldn't follow his own instructions.
“Of course I do,” Shu echoed, much softer than he'd meant. “I never say things I don't mean.”
A beat.
“Okay.” Mika finally took Shu's wrists and lifted both. Surprisingly, the touch didn't make Shu's skin crawl. “I'm not gonna be good at this,” Mika warned quietly. “But I'll do my best.”
Shu's right hand was swung forward. So he stepped with it.
It was clunky at first, an inexperienced puppet master operating an unwilling marionette. Mika wasn't bad at leading, exactly. His sense of rhythm and timing was unparalleled, even compared to Shu's. But he was unsure of himself, and it ruined his elegant sweeps. Shu knew he wasn't helping, either, taking halting steps even when he knew what his partner had really wanted.
After a few stumbling minutes, Mika let out a pained noise.
“Damn it,” he mumbled, and his misery was so poignant that it made Shu's heart ache a bit. “I'm- I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doin'.”
A spark bloomed deep in Shu's chest. When it reached his fingertips, it was a flame, powerful and radiant and all-consuming. In that singular moment, Shu wanted nothing more than to become a real puppet and allow Mika to see his own potential. He'd never have stuck with the shorter man for so long if they hadn't a fighting chance at success, and their past popularity was living proof! God, Mika was so talented, hampered by his awkwardness and clumsiness and Shu's own damn rules! Why couldn't he see that?!
Like a switch being flipped, Shu slipped into a different mindset. Slowly, they resumed their circuit of the studio. But it was polished now, Mika leading, Shu following the unspoken guidance. When Mika pressed his arm, Shu spun, simple and clean. When Mika stepped forward, Shu echoed it, stretching to avoid knocking their feet.
It worked. Around and around, a new dance, an entirely original piece of artwork. Shu drifted outside of his body, watching the spectacle with no small amount of awe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable with someone else, let alone being directed by them.
Mika gently pushed him forward. Shu spun outward, more sure on his feet than he'd been in ages, and stopped with one hand resting on Mika's palm. When he turned, the other Valkyrie seemed radiant, even beneath the harsh overheads. Mika was relaxed, in his element, his mouth curved in a gentle smile, and his thumb brushed Shu's fingers, leaving a trail of warmth behind.
Beautiful, Shu thought, dazed. He's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.
The symphony suddenly shorted out, replaced by some heart-pounding dance track. Shu nearly jumped out of his skin, and Mika leaped towards him with a yelp, clinging to his arm. The intruding music cut off as quickly as it'd arrived, and someone in the next room shouted, “Sorry! Wrong Bluetooth speaker!” Electronic beats started up a moment later, but they weren't quite as headache-inducing when muffled by a wall.
Shu glanced over. Mika looked back at him, eyes wide, still clinging to his arm.
“How did that feel?” Shu asked. The warmth of his own voice made him cringe, but he couldn't muster up any disgust when the shorter man relaxed once more, his hands drifting lightly across Shu's skin. Those warm fingertips raised goosebumps wherever they touched.
“Is that what it's like, Teach?” Mika posed eventually. Shu shot him a hard look, and Mika hurriedly backtracked, though it was with a lopsided smile. “Shu. Is that what it's like, Shu?”
“Be more specific.”
“To be human.”
Adrenaline still rushed in Shu's ears. One of Mika's hands brushed his, and Shu had the wild desire to gently interlace their fingers and squeeze. It was the proximity, he told himself stubbornly. They'd been apart for weeks, so of course, there was a chemical reaction to their reunion.
But he didn't have an easy answer for why Mika's shining eyes and awestruck smile made his stomach twist.
“Yes,” Shu conceded. “Yes, I think it is.”
Mika let out a quiet little giggle, an entirely unrefined and awkward sound. Some internal wall Shu hadn't even known had existed crumbled, and on a strange, foreign impulse, he reached out. Shu only had time to register Mika's startled look and his own hammering heart before he'd wrapped his arms around the shorter man, too tightly to fain impassivity.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Mika hugged back. He looped lean arms around Shu's waist, buried his face in Shu's shoulder, and leaned into the embrace with a content sigh. Shu-
Well, in truth, Shu had stopped functioning at the start of their exercise. His precision and self-control had long since flown out the window, and it was a miracle he'd even managed to speak. Everything about this was new. Holding Mika so close was new... but not unpleasant. Just unfamiliar.
The other man burned warm against him, easing the perpetual ache in Shu's body. Maybe he could become accustomed to this.
“I missed you,” Mika mumbled into his shoulder. “When are you leavin' again? You gotta stay until tomorrow morning; Anzu wanted to talk to me, and I bet she'd want you there.”
How unfair it was to leave Mika behind as if he were merely a doll, a possession of Shu's that he only played with when the urge struck. A flare of self-loathing pricked his belly, but Shu pushed it aside for the moment. He could debate his own morality later. All he cared about now was resting his nose in Mika's hair and closing his eyes, melting into the moment.
But that wasn't enough. It wasn't fair to keep his mouth shut, either, not when Mika had always made such an effort to communicate.
“I'll be staying here for a few months,” Shu announced. Mika pulled back in a jolt, and Shu barely remembered to let go in time. He was rewarded by a delighted grin, all tooth, completely genuine, and his stomach tied itself up in knots. “MDM is soon. I must focus my efforts if we wish to deliver an outstanding performance there and at all preceding events.”
Mika somehow beamed even wider. “I'll do that, too!” A new emotion entered his eyes then – something Shu had never seen in him before. He was just about to question it when Mika softly added, “Shu,” and buried his face in his shoulder again.
Shu chose not to say anything. He returned the hug and decided that if this was all they achieved for the day, he wasn't complaining. Bonding, they could call it. Unit bonding.
Mika nuzzled a little closer, and Shu's stomach flipped onto its head and started dancing the can-can.
Yeah. Unit bonding.
✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
Nothing good was on the TV at 6 in the morning. Mika knew this; an early bird of his habits always knew what happened at sunrise. Still, here he sat, nestled in a pile of blankets in the dorm's common room, flipping through channels. Eventually, he found something that wasn't idol-related (natural shows were always soothing) and settled back.
The soft cushions almost felt like an embrace.
Mika quickly buried his face in the nearest blanket, but it couldn't quite stifle his squeaky (and mortifying) noise of joy. He peered up at the TV, watched a colorful bird hop across the screen, and squealed to himself once again.
Had he merely been restless, Mika would've stayed in the dorm and watched something on their TV while waiting for T- Shu- to wake up. But if the taller man heard him giggling to himself like a foolish teenager, well – that just couldn't happen. That would open a can of worms Mika didn't know how to handle.
So here he was. Alone. Downstairs. Trying and failing to escape the memory of a single, solitary hug.
It wasn't just the hug, though. In the earliest days of Valkyrie (and indeed, up until the near present), Shu had always been... cold. Harsh, sometimes. His dedication was to art, but Mika had always been too fascinated to give it up. Even when Shu had warned him of Valkyrie's decline and offered a chance to leave, Mika hadn't been able to walk away.
Some producers had called him a fool. Mika didn't mind being a fool if he got to stay with Shu and watch the process of creation in the hands of a true master.
A few months back, though, Mika had noticed something different. He hadn't even been able to identify it at first; it'd been some nebulous change in the ever-evolving landscape that was Shu Itsuki. And then, Mika had spotted it – a smile. It'd been slight, but Shu had smiled.
Then another. Then another. And suddenly, Shu wasn't so far away anymore. Suddenly, his focus had shifted, and Mika found himself frozen in place, staring at a spotlight that somehow, inexplicably, inching towards him.
Then Shu had called him “Mika,” allowed use of his first name, and hugged him with such human emotion that Mika had struggled not to cry.
It'd been more exhausting than he'd realized to perpetually wonder if Shu cared about him. Maybe he hadn't at first – Mika wasn't as dumb as everyone thought.
But what did it matter now? Shu had... changed. Just as fluid as his methods of creation.
Mika couldn't help a dopey smile, and he tugged the blanket up to his chin. He'd go back to the dorm soon. Months previous, when Valkyrie had been at the peak of its activity, Mika had made a habit of making Shu coffee in the morning. A selfish little part of his heart desperately wanted to know how this new Shu would respond.
“Hey, Mika!”
Mika jumped, startled by the call, and looked around wildly. He quickly spotted Tori Himemiya skipping through the door, one hand raised in an enthusiastic wave. Mika's fear melted away, and he happily returned the greeting. A moment later, Tori flopped beside him with a big grin.
“What's all this?” the fine singer asked, prodding at a thin, crimson blanket with “Valkyrie” embroidered in swooping, black lines. “If you wanted to make a pillow fort, you could've just asked me, y'know! I wouldn't leave you by yourself!”
“It's not like that,” Mika assured, and Tori's concern faded into relief. “I just wanted a second alone.”
Tori nodded thoughtfully. “I mean, I get it. It's always busy around here. I'll leave you to it, but I was looking for you, so hear me out, alright?” Mika nodded obediently. “Thanks. Where were you yesterday? I thought we'd lost you!”
Yesterday? That had been rehearsal.
...but before Shu had derailed his plans, before Mika had gotten embroiled in their impromptu rehearsal, he'd planned to snag free snacks before returning to the city. Pretty 5 had been slated to meet up at that candy shop at Mika's suggestion, and oh, that's right, he'd had an obligation, and he'd-
His mounting panic must've shown on his ace because Tori rested a soothing hand on his arm. “It's alright!” the shorter man said brightly. “Really! But, seriously, where were you?”
“I'm really sorry,” Mika mumbled. “I got wrapped up in rehearsal last night. I forgot.”
Tori blinked. “Rehearsal? Do the producers want you back in shape or something?”
Oh. Right.
That dopey smile crept across his face once again, and Mika decided not to hide it. “Shu arrived last night,” he reported, burying his face in the blanket. “He really wants MDM, just like me. We're gonna hafta work hard to get back into shape, but I feel better than I have in a while!”
A lot better, Mika's traitorous little heart added gleefully. He decidedly didn't address that sentiment.
A glint of mischief flickered in Tori's eyes. “Shu?” he echoed.
All Mika could do was keep smiling. “Yeah.”
Whatever Tori might've said next was interrupted by the bing! of a Hold-hands message. The fine singer jutted out his bottom lip, clearly disappointed at not being able to pry further, but Mika ignored him, grabbing his phone and opening the most recent conversation.
Shu: Where are you?
Shu: Did something happen?
Worry. Genuine, human worry from Shu Itsuki.
Mika snatched the custom “Valkyrie” blanket and fled the room, shouting, “Bye, Tori!” over his shoulder. He might've received a farewell in return, but Mika didn't really care; his heart was pounding, a blush spiraled across his cheeks, and for the first time in months, he felt alive.
Shu did react to the homemade coffee. He accepted the mug gratefully and took a sip with a pleased noise. When he glanced up, a warm smile danced at the corners of his mouth.
“You make it better than most cafes I've visited. Thank you, Mika.”
Mika stumbled on his next breath. And he couldn't even bring himself to care.