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The door opened with a single click sound, informing Ayato that Thoma, after three days and two nights, had come home.
Thoma looked haggard. There were dark circles under his half-lidded eyes. His movement was sluggish as he dragged his feet to enter their apartment. Still, he brightened up when he saw Ayato, his mouth turning into a pout and he whined, “Ayato…”
Ayato chuckled. He gathered Thoma into his arms. Thoma sighed, leaning his head on the crook of Ayato’s neck. Ayato noticed that there was some tension in Thoma’s shoulders. “You should’ve let me pick you up,” he said, while he rubbed Thoma’s shoulders with his thumbs.
“But you’re busy.”
“Not as busy as you.” He picked Thoma up. “You’re the one who had to work for three days straight. I bet you didn’t get any proper sleep.”
For these last three days, Thoma, as the chief manager of a rookie boy group, had to be on site to oversee the shooting process of their newest music video. His schedule had been full months before this shooting happened. Recording tended to go over the assigned time, too, especially since the group Thoma was responsible for consisted of young men with essentially no experience in the industry.
It fell to Thoma to be their guiding hand: telling them how to greet the staff, encouraging them with a smile during their photoshoots, providing an ear to listen to them and give feedback. Ayato heard that Thoma had become quite a figure amongst the group’s fans. They talked about Thoma a lot in their interviews, how Thoma was such a mother figure to them, and he ended up being called as their mamanager. It was quite funny. Ayato laughed with Thoma when he told him this story.
This also meant he was more busy than the usual manager.
“True,” Thoma admitted, “but the boys didn’t get much sleep either. Our shooting permit only lasted for three days—” he yawned, “—and the director is quite a perfectionist.”
Ayato gave an empathetic nod. He walked with Thoma in his arms, taking him to their bedroom. “Hush. Sleep. Tell me everything later." He carefully put Thoma on the bed, tucking his lover in. Thoma hung on him, snaking his arms around Ayato’s waist.
“Sleep with me,” he asked, giving Ayato those pleading eyes he was never able to resist. He cupped Thoma’s cheeks, pressing a peck on the top of Thoma’s nose.
“Alright. Sleep well, Thoma.”
Thoma’s eyes fluttered to a close. Ayato caressed his lover’s cheek, watching his slowed breathing and how his mouth was just slightly opened when he slept, like he always did. Ayato smiled—his Thoma finally came home.
Ayato woke up to the familiar smell of Thoma’s homemade miso soup. He left their bedroom and walked to the kitchen, finding Thoma in front of the stove, stirring a pot with a ladle. He sat at the counter, propping up his face with his hands. Thoma had forbidden him from doing things in the kitchen when the fire was on. He told him this with his hands on his waist and a stern expression—that gave Ayato the urge to kiss him, instead of what it was intended for—that one fire scare was enough.
“Wait a bit.” Thoma turned his head. “It’s about to be done.”
“Aren’t you still tired?” Ayato frowned. “We can order takeouts.”
Thoma shook his head. “I’ve gotten enough sleep. Besides, I missed cooking.”
This brought a pout to Ayato’s lips. “Not me?”
Thoma turned off the stove, a cue for Ayato to get closer. He hugged Thoma from behind, kissing the back of Thoma’s hair, down to his nape. Thoma shuddered, turning his head to face Ayato. Ayato knew this expression of Thoma’s very well, the need that started to burn in his eyes, one that he would be very happy to fulfill.
Then a phone rang. From the ringtone, it was Thoma’s. It also was his boys’ debut single, which also meant that the call came from his company. They both sighed. Thoma went to pick up his phone.
“Hello? What’s—huh?! How come?! Take it down now and issue an apology!” Thoma massaged his temple. “You’ve taken it down? Okay. Say that it was an… input error. Thank the fans for their warm support and say that we’ll continue to do our best to assist the boys in reaching their dream. And send an apology to the station for the mix-up.” Thoma gave some nods and hmms while listening, then he added, “Tell Kazuha to post some selfies. Wait, no. Tell Xiao.”
Ayato had to suppress his chuckle. Damage control, as Thoma told him once. It usually worked beautifully. He guessed that this mistake was quite severe, that they had to bring out Xiao to pacify the fandom.
“I’ll go to the office later. Okay.” With that, the call ended. Thoma gave a long sigh. Ayato patted him on his back, finding out that Thoma’s shoulders had become tense again. He kneaded them, and Thoma hummed in response.
“Someone posted a wrong schedule to the website.” He sighed. “To Music Terminal, of all shows.”
Understanding dawned on Ayato. No wonder Thoma was frazzled. He knew that the fanbase of Thoma’s group was very online and very quick in spreading information. This mistake would spread in a matter of minutes, especially since the false information was of their beloved group appearing in the prestigious Music Terminal, which everyone knew was the territory of a certain established company.
“That’s bad,” Ayato commented. “Did they—?”
“It trended,” Thoma leaned his head on Ayato’s shoulders. “I have to return to the office.”
“I’ll drive you there.”
Thoma looked up. “But it’s the weekend.”
Ayato ruffled Thoma’s hair. “You can thank me later.”
“Okay,” Thoma flashed a smile for Ayato. He hugged Ayato. “Just in a bit. I need to recharge.”
“Am I a battery?” Ayato laughed, but he took Thoma closer, equally indulging in Thoma’s warmth and letting himself bask in his scent.
Their tryst had to wait.