Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Rest day for the energetic Scorpio! Feeling lost is natural but, like the great scorpion of the savanna, you simply need the soothing shadow of a baobab to bounce back up. Don’t hesitate to seek help from loved ones, and you’ll be eating spiders again before you even notice.”

Toshinori raises his head and grins at Shouta.

“That’s for health. What do you think?”

Shouta wishes he could feel bewildered, wishes he were still innocent enough for that, but he’s heard worse since Toshinori has been hired for the horoscope section. Way worse. Baobab soothing shadows and spider dinners, all things considered, are not that bad.

“How do you even make up those.”

“The chariot, the hierophant and a discovery channel night. I mostly slept through that documentary though so let’s hope we don’t get hate tweets from scorpion experts, am I right?”

“I won’t complain if it stirs up a twitter debate!” shouts Tensei from his desk. “We could use the exposure.”

“Then let’s roll with that,” Shouta sighs, “if Tensei can deal with all the angry tweeting zoologists. Thanks for my horoscope. I’ll look for spiders at the store.”

Toshinori nods thoughtfully, easily shuffling the tarot deck in his hands.

“I’m doing the love part now, want to hear it?”

He reveals the first card from the deck. It’s the devil.

“I think I’ll pass on your jinxing,” Shouta snorts.

He sits at his very comfortable office chair with a satisfied smile. They’ve been able to buy new chairs last month, with little wheels and padded backrests. It’s not much, and the carpet looks as frayed as ever, but it’s something. And as much as Shouta regrets the better, naïve days when he thought that a major arcana was a big Spanish arcade, Toshinori’s wild horoscope does have its aficionados.

It did survive the recent website recipe changes decided by Nezu, at least. When Shouta’s “worst historical paintings” section all but disappeared, he was catapulted to writing quizzes and he is still getting the hang of it. As childish as it is, he’s 85% sure he’s going to make his next quiz something like “what horrible 17^th century painting you are”, because his folders are still full of unused jpeg files.

Shouta opens his notepad on the latest page, takes a pen, and starts jotting down ideas. It’s Monday, and despite whatever curse Toshinori put on Scorpios, he feels pretty efficient. Picking a dull color. Picking a 17^th century disgusting recipe. Picking a stupid medieval name.

“Yo Shouta!”

He jumps, and the bottom line of the ‘e’ of ‘name’ stretches to the end of the page.

It’s Midnight, hands on her hips, with a smile so wide it’s suspicious.

“What’s up Midnight?” Shouta mutters as he scribbles the line, which of course only makes it more visible.

“What are you doing around 4pm?”

Shouta spins the pencil between his fingers, considering.

“What I am doing now, I suppose. But with less enthusiasm.”

Midnight snatches the notepad from the desk and squints at it.

“Lemon, egg yolk and sugar?”

“It’s a medieval drink.”

“It sounds disgusting.”

“That’s the whole point.”

“You should stick with spiders,” she says with a smile that makes him grunt. She’s lucky he showed up too late this morning to hear her horoscope.

“So what are you planning this afternoon?” he grumbles.

“I’m filming a tiktoker. I need you for the interview.”

“What, you want me to hold the camera?”

She looks offended.

“No way, you’d suck.”

“I already did it for you.”

“You did, and you sucked.”

Shouta would feel insulted if he wasn’t already aware that he has no eye for filming. He never notices symmetry, framing or lightning things that Midnight seems to care so much about. He barely even notices supposedly nice sceneries if no one points them out.

“Then what’s the deal?”

“I’d like you to interview the guy.”

He blinks.

“The tiktok person?”

“Yeah. I’m testing something. I film and you ask him whatever goes through your mind.”

“Like his opinion on medieval names ratings?”

She looks disgusted.

“Medieval names ratings? Is that even a thing?”

“In a better world it would be.”

“For all that you say about Toshinori’s methods you’re aware that you’re both in the same realm of weirdness, right?”

Shouta wonders if he’s mature enough not to feel wounded by that, and settles for a reproachful squint.

“You’re bad at asking a favor.”

“Am I not doing you a favor by offering a way out from all the nerding?”

Shouta squints harder.

“Alright, alright. Sorry sweetheart. You up for it then?”

“Asking random questions to some tiktok guy?”

“Exactly.”

“Is he some Toshinori’s protegee looking for fame again or is he actually famous?”

“He’s got some fame on tiktok, but I guess you wouldn’t know of him.”

Shouta un-squints to go for a bewildered look instead.

“You realize I barely know of tiktok? Like I never opened it? Unless you want me to figure out what old tapestry motif fits him the most you should very much ask about anyone else. Like Tensei. Or Joke. Or anyone down the street.”

Midnight smiles.

“I know. That’s the point. Our average public hasn’t heard of him any more than you have. I know all about the guy’s life, so I figure you’re gonna ask him the most basic questions about basic things I wouldn’t even think about. And people will feel represented, like they’re leading the interview themselves.”

It feels like a dumb idea but they’re always testing new things, here, and especially dumb ones. It’s why the company even exists. It’s why Toshinori got his tarot deck reimbursed as professional expenses. So Shouta simply shrugs. If that interview was something truly important, Midnight would do it herself. It’s probably not a big deal even if he messes it up.

“Alright, if it makes you happy. But it better not be some entitled brat.”

She smiles sweetly.

“Thanks, Shouta. I promise it’s not a brat.”

That gives Shouta a bad feeling about the entitled bit.

He goes back to his notepad.

The guy that enters the office at 4:15 pm has an absurd hairstyle and incredibly flashy clothes, but Shouta guesses it makes sense to go for extravagant when you chase for recognition as a living.

Shouta has never been very impressed with influencers, and the way they virtually prostitute themselves as a job. People being bold enough to assume that the whole world is interested by their new change of clothes or a tour of their house. And this guy does seem like he’d make people watch every last one of his gaudy shirts. Shouta wonders what kind of ego it takes to make this bullshit, though he supposes that it’s not the kind of questions Midnight is expecting.

“We don’t have a specific filming room yet,” Midnight is telling the guy, “so we’ll just shoot at the back of the office.”

“There are people here,” the guy answers. “Background noise will ruin the audio.”

“My coworkers know when to stay quiet. We did all our videos in here, and it’s never been a problem.”

“I watched one or two on your Instagram. The sound could clearly be improved.”

Somehow, entitled adults are even more annoying than entitled brats. You can always hope that a teenager will evolve and mature, but adults are supposed to be the final stage of personal growth. That guy clearly sounds like he needs his own dose of growing.  

“I’m sorry if it was a problem for you,” says Midnight with a sweet smile. “Shouta, can you come over?”

Shouta puts aside his objectively lame sketch of a 17^th century courting scene, and sighs.

“Sure.”

The blonde guy gives Shouta’s baggy clothes a weird look and Shouta refrains from reciprocating. He’s the mature one, after all.

“I’m Shouta Aizawa,” he says.

The guy simply nods, as if Shouta is expected to already know who he is. Though maybe this time it’s not entirely an entitled thing. He’s the one being interviewed, after all.

“Shouta will be the one doing the interview,” Midnight informs the guy. “I’ll simply make sure the cameras work alright.”

In one swift move the guy sits on the couch, spreading his legs and putting his elbows on them. He smiles, and his teeth are very white.

“Ready whenever,” he tells Shouta with a wink.

Shouta lazily goes to sit in the chair opposite him and makes a sign to Midnight.

“You’re ready?”

“Yeah. Start when you want.”

He knows more or less how it should go. He’s heard Midnight leading interviews countless times at the back of the office.

So he smiles at the guy.

“We’re very happy to welcome here with us today.”

“Glad to be here! I’m a huge fan of yours,” the guy exclaims as if he wasn’t criticizing their recording style a minute ago.

“We’re big fans of you too. Could you please introduce yourself to our audience?” Shouta asks as if it were a mere formality, as if everyone knew anyway (and him most of all).

“Sure thing! I’m the great tiktok singer the world knows as Present Mic.”

Then maybe it’s not just about filming clothes. Not that it matters much to Shouta anyway.

“So you record yourself singing?”

“Well, yes, on tiktok. I hold events on my discord server too.”

Shouta is not more knowledgeable about that discord thing than he is about tiktok, so he just hums. He glances at Midnight who makes a twirling sign with her hand, encouraging him to go on. Well, if he has to be a clueless bystander…

“Why tiktok? Don’t people usually do those things on youtube?”

Present Mic’s smile twitches. He has a weird outdated moustache.

“Different platforms, different goals. Tiktok and youtube are wildly different.”

“Aren’t they both about videos?”

“That’s the only thing they have in common. It’s like asking why I’m not using vimeo.”

Shouta shrugs.

“Why aren’t you using vimeo?”

Present Mic seems unsure whether to take this as a joke or as an insult, and he leans forward a bit.

“Platforms aren’t interchangeable. I’m talking different audience, different format, and different vibe. I’m using tiktok to connect with younger people.”

Shouta nods as if he’s interested. He’s out of questions, but Midnight shakes her head at him. He sighs.

“Why Present Mic? Is it your actual birthname or are you called Michael or something?”

Present Mic frowns and turns towards Midnight.

“What is this about? Is this a trick interview?”

In a sense, it is. But she’s bold enough to look offended.

“A trick interview would be asking you about your finance or printing a poster of your last bar brawl. We’re simply making people know you through someone who has no idea who you are.”

Present Mic glares at Shouta. But truth be told, it’s impossible to take someone seriously with that kind of moustache.

“You have no idea who I am?”

“Well you’re a tiktok singer. You don’t like vimeo. You might be called Michael but I’m still not sure about that one.”

Present Mic heaves a very long sigh.

“You said you were a fan.”

“I said we were. It was a non-including we.”

“I don’t think conjugation works like that.”

“You mean grammar?”

Present Mic’s white smile is a bit strained now and Shouta reminds himself that he’s supposed to stay polite, for the sake of Midnight’s interview at least.

“I’m sorry. Please bear with me, I’m not trying to trick you. I’m just bad at those things.”

He gives Present Mic his best smile, and that seems to soften the guy.

“Alright, let’s continue then!”

As it turns out Mic stands for microphone, and the guy’s name is simply Hizashi. Shouta’s ignorance actually makes Present Mic laugh a few times (granted, it’s a very showmany’s laugh), and he’s back in his good mood in a couple of minutes.

“You’re a funny guy,” he tells Shouta once the interview is over. “I like you. You should definitely join my discord server.”

It’s hard to know if he likes Shouta as a person or as a potential new fan. Shouta simply shrugs.

“I don’t have a discord account.”

“Damn bro. I get that you don’t have tiktok, but you look like someone who would have discord at least. How do you even talk to people?”

“I use my mouth,” Shouta deadpans. “It’s pretty efficient.”

Then Present Mic puts a hand on his shoulder. His grin is shark-like.

“I bet it is.”

He winks at Shouta before going over to Midnight to talk about video technicalities.

Shouta is left staring at nothing, wondering if the tiktok guy has just been hitting on him.

Chapter Text

“So is it me or was Mic eyefucking that journalist guy the whole time?”

Shouta raises his eyes very slowly. Midnight has a predatory grin on her face.

“What.”

“It’s a comment. From Twitter. On the interview.”

“You posted it already? We shot it yesterday.”

“I didn’t edit much. The vibe was amateurism anyway. So was he?”

“Was who what?”

“Was Present Mic eyefucking you that bad?”

Shouta sighs and leans back on his chair. It rolls a bit backwards.

“I don’t know what eyefucking means but it sounds like a very specific kink I want nothing to do with.”

“God you’re old. Was he looking at you with concupiscence?”

Shouta blinks three times, at loss for words.

“Not that I remember?”

“The Twitter person added an extract of the interview.”

She shoves her phone under Shouta’s nose and hits play. It’s Present Mic on the couch, looking at Shouta with an easy smile.

[Present Mic] “I’m not saying tiktok is better, like, all the time. The thing is, youtube is better suited for longer or more elaborate content. For example it’s way better if you want to screenshare coop games while you’re on vc, though nowadays Twitch livestreams are more popular. But no one will watch a COD stream on tiktok.”

The blank stare that video-Shouta sends is pretty faithful to his feelings at the time. Video-Present Mic spreads his arms.

[Present Mic] “What, you don’t agree?”

[Aizawa Shouta] “I understand half the words. If it makes you feel good then I can say I half agree.”

The clip ends with Present Mic’s laugh. Shouta remembers now how it had surprised him, the difference with his entertainer laughs.

But that’s all.

“There’s nothing special,” he states.

“You’re missing it, focus on his eyes.”

She replays it and Shouta supposes that yes, maybe, if he’s really looking for it, he can imagine that Present Mic might be looking at him a bit too intensely for some social media debate. And his eyes do track Shouta’s hand when Shouta starts rolling up his sleeves.

“Maybe,” he indulges. “That guy is a people-pleaser. He wants be liked, and paying extra attention to others is the best way.”

Joke, who’s been looking at the video from behind his shoulder, laughs.

“I got an idea for a new quiz of yours! How oblivious are you on a scale from zero to Shouta?”

Shouta grumbles something that even he doesn’t understand before sitting back at his desk. He feels a tad weirded out to have some stranger tracking down how he’s supposedly being looked at.

“Dude,” Tensei says from his computer. “That video got some real fame on tiktok.”

“It is Present Mic’s playground after all,” Midnight comments. “What did they think of it?”

“Most people dislike the ‘question from an amateur’ format, but they liked Shouta.”

“They also like Midnight,” Shouta mutters, intensely praying that he won’t be asked to do another interview of that kind.

“You’ll never beat Midnight’s fanbase,” Tensei agrees solemnly. “But since Present Mic is interested in men they have a lot of things to say about the way he was talking to you.”

“That’s stupid. If there was anything worth noticing, I would’ve.”

“You really wouldn’t have though,” Midnight interjects. “And remember your horoscope. Toshinori, please, the Scorpio love section again?”

Toshinori spins his chair towards them with a wide smile.

“Today the broken stars will guide the way. Distorted light and shattered sky. Better luck tomorrow.”

“Hear that?” Midnight says as if it sounds like anything more than an emo kid drunk texting in haiku.

“Unfortunately,” Shouta answers.

They learned long ago that Toshinori doesn’t take himself seriously enough to get offended by these kinds of comments.

“The horoscope doesn’t lie. Distorted light and shattered sky.”

“So what, breaking your glasses?”

“A thunderstorm?” offers Joke from her desk.

Her head is barely visible behind all the giveaway prizes delivered this morning. For lack of a better place, they’re now stacked up high on her desk.

“Distorted light means distorted truth means you can’t see what’s happening means he wants to spend the best honeymoon with you in Venice.”

Shouta groans, barely refraining from banging his head on his keyboard. This is embarrassing.

“Well if both my daily tarot horoscope and some horny teenagers on the internet agree then it can’t be wrong.”

“That’s the spirit!” Midnight exclaims – and Shouta is convinced that she understood the sarcasm and she’s being difficult on purpose.

Thankfully, in the afternoon, Toshinori gets hired by Joke to help brainstorm for their next web contest and Midnight has a meeting in the city to plan another interview. The Present Mic topic gets forgotten, except for Tensei notifying them out loud every five hundred views on the interview. Shouta wonders how often Tensei must refresh the page to keep track of this, and he knows that if the next “recipe change” somehow ends with him managing their social media, he’ll resign. This sounds like a proper nightmare.

Shouta manages to find the last stock photos he needs (unpractical medieval clothes) just before 5 pm, and sends all the text and picture files to Tensei (in charge of digital layouts) before he leaves the office. He’ll make the available coworkers try it tomorrow, then send it to Nedzu, and use their reviews for the final version.

The whole Present Mic interlude has totally slipped Shouta’s mind when he gets a text after dinner. He’s halfway through a pretty intense chapter of a gripping Spanish thriller so he completely forgets to check his phone until hours later, a little past midnight, his mind hazy from all the pages he read.

[Unknown number] well hello mister scruffy journalist

[Unknown number] your coworker gave me your number

Midnight has the bad habit of giving numbers without asking for permission.

[Shouta] Who are you?

The reply comes about ten minutes later, when Shouta is done showering and has started to brush his teeth.

[Unknown number] thought we went through this already lol

It’s definitely resentful tiktok guy. Shouta smirks as he saves the number on his phone with one hand.

[Shouta] What, I was supposed to listen when you talked?

[Work_Present Mic] dw i get it you were too busy staring into my eyes ;)

Shouta almost chokes on spit and mint toothpaste, which would be a low-key degrading way to die. He wonders how to answer that , eventually deciding to look up their company’s twitter page on his browser, struggling to remember how to show posts’ comments. He couldn’t swear that he hasn’t retweeted the interview in the process but fuck if he knows how to undo that, and anyway he finally finds the tweet he’s looking for. The cringe-worthy eyefucking, video extract tweet.

He sends the url with no comment, hoping he made his point.

[Work_Present Mic] looks photoshopped but alright

Shouta snorts and immediately regrets it, feeling like he sent toothpaste straight into his trachea. He opts to wash his mouth before actually dying alone on his bathroom tile. When he’s finished, Present Mic has already sent two new messages.

[Work_Present Mic] the gang digs you

[Work_Present Mic] except those who hate you of course

[Shouta] Ah, yeah, the gang.

Shouta mulls over it as he goes back to his bedroom. He decides to ask and sound stupid instead of assuming and probably also sounding stupid.

[Shouta] Is it a mafia thing? Should I worry and/or get a gun?

Present Mic simply sends a laughing face. He must assume that Shouta is joking, as he did yesterday at the beginning of the interview.

The thing is, people often give Shouta tons of underserved credit because he likes things like classical paintings and foreign books. Or because he stays away from social media, and thus knows a lot more about Vivaldi than people like Present Mic. Well, his coworkers know him well enough to treat him as an old man, but most of his acquaintances assume that outdated (“refined”) tastes somehow make him more knowledgeable than the average person, and it’s not as nice as it sounds. Basic questions that would’ve gotten anyone else casual answers earn him shocked gasps when they’re not dismissed as jokes, so Shouta often resorts to assuming and hoping for the best.

When he falls asleep he dreams of a gang of tiny hooligans Present Mic chasing him across Madrid while Toshinori’s voice echoes in the sky, foretelling terrible rains of baobab. Shouta is wearing a white Old Regime wig that gets heavier and heavier on his head until he drops to the ground and grunts in pain, only to realize that he’s fallen from his bed.

He decides not to see this as a prophetic dream and goes right back to sleep.

Waking up is harder in the morning because Shouta hasn’t thought of climbing back to bed before falling asleep again. His body feels awful. He very laboriously makes his way to the living room, collapses on the sofa, and stares at the wall for about ten minutes. Then, conceding that he’s still aching all over but now he’s also going to be late for work, he checks his phone. He received another message the night before, about ten minutes after the laughing face.

[Work_Present Mic] they think we should make smth else together

It takes Shouta a few seconds to realize that Present Mic isn’t referring to ominous Madrid chases (or so he hopes) and he has to actually re-read their chat to remember what he could be talking about.

[Shouta] Your gang?

Then, he turns on the coffee maker.  

“Did you notice that three of your four “dull colors” to pick from are brown?”

“They are different shades of brown,” Shouta answers a bit defensively.

Tensei hums in a definitely unconvinced fashion.

“I mean don’t take it the wrong way, I’m sure you did it for a reason, but people usually look for their favorite color in those kinds of questions. You should stick to something like yellow, blue, green and red.”

Shouta starts to grumble under his breath. Then, because it’s a character-trait he’s working on, he repeats more clearly:

“It’s a 17 th century painting quiz, which means Rembrandt and all the Dutch family. Those guys were big on the brown.”

Tensei sighs.

“You know that for most people, medieval paintings are either ugly knight tapestries or photographic fruit bowls? If they spend too long on each question trying to get your inner jokes they’ll be more likely to drop that quiz for another one. Dedication is good but don’t have to make it too RP.”

Shouta doesn’t know what RP stands for, but since Tensei visibly didn’t know about the Dutch painters’ color hues he guesses they’re even now.

“Alright,” he yields. “I’ll change that bit. You got other feedback?”

“I don’t think so. There were some typos but I corrected them directly on the software. It’s pretty good!”

“Why do I get the hellish bulging eyes kid?” Midnight shouts from where she’s hunched over Toshinori’s desk, at which Toshinori laughs out loud.

“That’s such a Pisces thing!”

Shouta’s about to dwell on what that could possibly mean when his phone buzzes twice in his jacket’s pocket.

[Work_Present Mic] exactly

[Work_Present Mic] I say let’s do something like that again, itd be good for my fanbase + your companys exposure

It’s almost 10 am, and Shouta isn’t really surprised that the guy would only wake up now. He probably stays in bed all day, casually waiting for some ads or donation system to fill his bank account. Out of the blue, he wonders what kind of song Present Mic sings.

[Shouta] So you want me to interview you again?

[Shouta] Somehow I don’t think the “I have no idea who you are” would work twice.

[Work_Present Mic] Im sure I can come up with smth more creative

[Shouta] Like what?

[Work_Present Mic] dunno yet but

[Work_Present Mic] I get great ideas when I sleep

[Work_Present Mic] expect to hear from me in about 7 hours

Shouta pauses, reread the message more slowly.

[Shouta] You haven’t slept yet?

[Work_Present Mic] I streamed quite a bit last night

Then, a few second later:

[Work_Present Mic] didnt get the ping?

Shouta scrolls upward to last night’s messages, but there’s not much to see.

[Shouta] What?

[Work_Present Mic] oh, nvm

[Work_Present Mic] we talked about my discord server so I thought maybe you joined it

[Shouta] I still don’t have an account.

He tries to remember the interview but he can’t figure what could give Present Mic the idea that Shouta would join a whole new social media just to… whatever people do on discord. Present Mic is probably just that conceited.

[Work_Present Mic] damn yea I forgot

Shouta is about to answer when his phone is swiped from his hands.

“Work hours, mister Aizawa.”

It’s Joke. He makes a limp attempt to grab his phone, and she puts a half-scribbled paper in his hands instead.

“My feedback,” she says. “Also, I had an idea.”

She sits on his desk and pointedly puts down his phone behind her.

“The web contest thing is working meh.”

Shouta glances at her desk, where the plastic toys and the fruit keychains are piling up.

“If you can’t get rid of everything my baby nephew might like some. Unless you plan to resell them on the side.”

It wouldn’t be the first time they’re left with cardboard boxes of remaining goods. The supplier usually doesn’t take them back, and they can’t very well send the same things on different giveaways, so they dispose of it however they can. They don’t have the room to store it for long anyway.

Joke shakes her head.

“Ok it goes better than that , but barely. So I’ve been thinking of something.”

“Of course you have.”

Joke, Midnight, not to mention Toshinori, are all very good for coming up with random ideas. It doesn’t mean that they are necessarily good ideas, but the three of them take the “innovation” part of their job very seriously. Shouta knows it’s something he lacks but, well. People like them need people like him to provide sensible advice (the advice sometimes being simply “drop it”).

“Remember the survey Tensei did a while ago? When he wanted to know the type of people who follow us and everything?”

Shouta nods. There was the survey and there were also the premium subscriptions for social media analytics plugins that cost them quite a bit of money that month, so he’s wary of where that may lead.

“So you know a lot of people only come from one type of content. People here for Toshinori’s horoscope usually check our Instagram once a day to read how their day’s gonna go and that’s all. Let’s say they’re Subscribers 1. I always get the same people in my giveaways, but most of them are people massively joining giveaways accounts to get a lot of free stuff. Very practical people, probably don’t care about tarot at all. Those are Subscribers 2. And of course people who subscribed to our tiktok only see Midnight’s videos. They want to scroll through videos and see people having fun. We can call them Subscribers 3. They’re all different audiences, and they mostly don’t mix.”

“That’s a bit of a simplification but yeah, it’s all over the place,” agrees Tensei as he wheels towards them.

Shouta figures that Tensei wouldn’t miss this kind of discussion for the world. As for himself, he’s pretty lost.

“Yeah, I guess. Probably.”

“It’s not a probability,” she stresses out as if Shouta is mulling over it instead of simply humoring her, “it’s a fact.”

“Our general strategy is already to create a sense of unity between the different contents,” Tensei says with the face of someone actually mulling over it. “Same logo, same colors, same tone. You’re thinking of something else?”

“Kind of. I’m not sure we could get casual, in and out horoscope readers to watch 3 minutes interviews, but I’m confident we can work on creating better bridges. That’s what I must talk about with Shouta.”

For a split-second Shouta considers writing down everything they say to look like he’s totally at ease with the discussion, and totally devising a marketing strategy. He feels like he’s back in high school, in programming classes, where he used to take insane amounts of notes to pretend that he was on board with all of it.

Tensei nods seriously.

“For instance he makes a ‘what animal are you’ quiz with a link at the end for an animal plush giveaway, and vice versa?”

“Something like that. What do you say, Shouta?”

Shouta doesn’t get marketing but Tensei doesn’t get funny quizzes so that makes them even again.

“I’m never making a ‘what animal are you’ quiz. But alright.”

“And I’m not making giveaways fridge magnets of bulging eyes babies,” Joke warns him. “We’re gonna have to coordinate. You think about this, I’ll go brief Toshinori.”

“Why didn’t you explain it to us at the same time?”

She grimaces.

 “You’re both way too dense. I’d rather do it one on one.”

It’s not very nice, but he figures she does have a point.

Shouta manages to upload his 17 th Century Quiz in the afternoon, after everyone’s feedback has been taken into account (or at least vaguely acknowledged) and after Nedzu has sent his approval by email. It’s not like they’ll ask Nedzu to take his dumb quizzes each time, but Shouta would rather make sure that this is what Nedzu expected of his brand-new quiz section.

Then, Shouta starts brainstorming on whatever Joke could be talking about. She took her afternoon off to go to some artistic thing (he didn’t really listen) and it really is like her to drop ideas then disappear - leaving the concrete work to others. Shouta digs through her files on the shared server to find a list of every giveaway she’s done yet and doesn’t find any, which is also like Joke.

He’s started to make a list himself on Excel when his phone’s screen lights up.

[Work_Present Mic] hi again

[Work_Present Mic] I hope you didn’t miss me too much

Shouta sends his reply in a few seconds. Maybe that’s just how eager he is to get away from Excel spreadsheets.

[Shouta] Who are you?

[Work_Present Mic] nvm, going back to sleep

Shouta realizes he’s grinning.

[Shouta] You’d rather keep dreaming that everyone’s a groupie of yours?

[Work_Present Mic] I havent given up

[Work_Present Mic] you’ll be part of the gang soon

[Shouta] I won’t ever idolize a 30-something calling a group of teenagers “the gang”. It’s rather creepy if you think about it.

[Work_Present Mic] 1/ petty 2/ does it mean you dont wanna hear my incredible new idea?

[Shouta] Does it involve moustache shaving?

[Work_Present Mic] youre surprisingly cheeky today

[Work_Present Mic] did you have sex??

Shouta snorts a bit too loud and it reminds him of when he choked on toothpaste, this morning. Present Mic apparently has this kind of effect on him.

[Shouta] It’s a bit unfortunate if you need this to be in a good mood.

[Work_Present Mic] unless I have lots ;)

[Work_Present Mic] whats gotten you into such a good mood?

He pauses to think about it. The quiz was a success, everyone liked it. And Joke is giving him some more things to reflect on – even if he officially complains about it, he likes challenges. And also… yeah, maybe, he likes talking with that Present Mic dude. He’s not usually one for meeting new people, be it talking about himself to strangers or listening to them rant about their life, but this is easy, casual texting. He’s aware that mister tiktoker Present Mic, whose career is built on being present on the internet and endearing himself to people, must be having dozens of conversations like that every day. Shouta’s not special, so there’s no pressure to answer fast or try to sound smart. He prefers it that way.

But of course, he’s not going to say this. The last thing this guy needs is an ego boost. If his head grows any bigger, it’ll probably won’t be able to fit in the tiktok frame anymore.

[Shouta] Work is going pretty well.

[Work_Present Mic] nice!!!

[Work_Present Mic] we should hold a livestream on my discord server

[Shouta] What?

[Work_Present Mic] thats the idea I got

[Work_Present Mic] some people volunteered a few more questions for you to ask me

[Shouta] Whyever don’t they ask it themselves?

[Work_Present Mic] they like you

[Shouta] To be fair with you,

Shouta sighs, and hopes he’s not about to hurt Present Mic’s feelings. The next text takes him a bit of time to write, trying to make his thoughts clear without sounding mean.

[Shouta] I find the whole deal a bit strange. I simply asked you basic questions in front of a camera, in a professional setting, and that was all. We didn’t even know each other. I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea that complete strangers would zoom in or slow down the video to analyze how I’m being looked at.

It takes a few moments for Present Mic to answer that, and Shouta spends them in an uncomfortable wait.

[Work_Present Mic] oh, ok

[Work_Present Mic] I get it

[Work_Present Mic] Im sorry about it, you couldnt know what you’d get yourself into when you did the interview

Work_Present Mic] ahah

[Work_Present Mic] I mean it’s not the first time it happens, they like to speculate about me and my life

[Work_Present Mic] when you get somewhat famous your life isn’t entirely your own anymore

[Work_Present Mic] I don’t mind it but Im sry you had to go through this

It’s unexpectedly reflective of him, and Shouta supposes that he might have misjudged the guy. He has some self-awareness, at least. And, given his sleep schedule, he apparently works hard at whatever he’s doing.

[Shouta] Don’t worry about it. But I’d rather not make another interview if it means that my every reaction is going to get analyzed by strangers.

[Work_Present Mic] ouch

[Work_Present Mic] yeah, fair enough

He doesn’t send anything else after that.

After he gets home, after he eats, after he starts a new book, after he showers, Shouta has to come to terms with the fact that he might’ve killed their conversation right here and there.

It’s not a very pleasant feeling.

Chapter Text

It’s barely 8 am when Shouta arrives at the office. He hasn’t gotten any text from Present Mic in the night and that makes him strangely miserable.

It’s not as if they texted a lot . They barely exchanged a few dozen messages, and the whole appeal of that conversation was that they weren’t taking it seriously. But he feels like he’s ruined something somehow, and that’s a bitter feeling.

Toshinori is the only one in the office yet. He’s busy building a house of cards with his tarot deck, and when Shouta opens the door Toshinori jumps so hard that the whole house falls with a soft sound.

“You’re early,” he reproaches Shouta as he goes to put his lunch in the fridge.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You don’t look good. Want me to make you a magic sleeping tea? It’s home brewed.”

Shouta squints at him.

“What does one put in magical sleeping teas?”

“Melatonin, mostly. And oregano for the magical aura.”

That makes Shouta snort. He’s grateful for Toshinori. He’s a good guy, observant in a way that, say, Joke isn’t, and he cares about others. He’s brought them at least five interns since he's been there, from one week to six months. Good kids, for the most part, relatives or children of friends, who noticeably admired Toshinori a lot. He’s a likeable sort of guy in a casual, warm way, miles away from showy guy like Present Mic.

“I feel like shit,” Shouta admits as he fires up the coffee maker. “Can one of your beverages cure that?”

Toshinori bursts out laughing.

“Nothing that wouldn’t make you look desperate at 8 am.”

“Figured.”

He listens to the familiar sound of the machine, feeling himself calm down. Small habits are the best way to get back in his routine. He grabs his coffee then sits down, wheeling his chair (his comfortable, new chair) towards Toshinori’s desk.

“So how’s life?”

“Whose?” Toshinori answers as he waggles one of his tarot cards, probably as a promise that he could read Shouta Obama’s schedule for the day.

“Yours.”

When Tensei gets in the office, at 8:30 sharp, Shouta has gotten precise updates on the life of about 5 “incredible, talented” people, none of which being Toshinori himself. But it is in a way a testimony that Toshinori is doing fine. And it had been a while since Shouta got his last updates on Izuku Midoriya’s college applications, and Gran Torino retreat plans from the fire fighting brigade (which are to not retire, ever).

When he met Toshinori for the first time Shouta had wondered if he was part of those people who live vicariously through others, and simply don’t feel legitimate to talk about themselves. However , when asked specifically, Toshinori would never fail to tell in detail this or that incredible adventure that happened to him, which made Shouta conclude that Toshinori was the most selfless person he had ever met.

It can sometimes be hard to know what people say of you while you’re away, but Shouta had no doubt that Toshinori only said the most positive things about him and everyone else in this office.

When Joke gets here a little past 9 am, he feels way better and he’s already started to work.

“Well then,” she shouts, “have you two thought about what I said yesterday?”

Toshinori looks at his phone screen.

“The obvious solution,” he says, “would be to give away some customized tarot cards. And Midnight could take a few videos of me making horoscopes and explaining the reasoning.”

“I’d take a look at those videos,” Shouta comments. “I’ve been wondering for the past two years.”

Joke raises an eyebrow at Toshinori.

“It’s not a bad idea. I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d actually give it some thought.”

Toshinori’s smile is sheepish as he turns their phone towards them to show his notes app.

“I didn’t. But my niece is a bit of a geek.”

“For knowing how social medias work? She’s the normal one.”

Shouta grumbles a bit before he catches himself. Joke turns to him.

“What about you?”

He’s about to read from his notepad when she snatches it from his hands. It really is a bad habit of hers. She very pointedly turns the page to make sure there’s nothing on the other side.

“Were you busy yesterday? You haven’t done much. Did you spend the afternoon on your phone again?”

Shouta reflexively checks his phone. Nothing. He glares at her.

“I got delayed because of you.”

“Oh my, did you spend the afternoon thinking about me again?”

“Exactly,” he deadpans. “It’s getting out of hand, I can’t even work anymore.”

He turns on his monitor and his Excel spreadsheet appears with a beeping sound.

“Also I spent hours on fixing your stupid lack of organization. How come you never made a list of all your giveaways? How do you even keep track efficiently of the number of people who participate and the number of merchandise we send?”

Joke waves her hand around.

“Come on, don’t go all disappointed teacher on me. It’s not as if you knew how many people commented on your lists and everything back then.”

“But I did?” Shouta practically stutters, maybe more offended than strictly necessary. “If you don’t know how well the giveaway worked, how do you decide what you’re going to do next?”

Joke waves her hand again and Shouta is baffled by the fact that he’s only discovering that now. He guesses he’s never actually asked her the question because he always assumed that even Joke had the required minimum of professionalism. She has focused her attention on his notes again.

“ What annoying Duolingo character are you , with a giveaway of linguistic methodology booklets?”

Shouta nods.

“I already got a general idea of how that quiz would go. I don’t think there should be copyright issues, as long as we don’t make Duolingo stickers or anything.”

Joke doesn’t comment and goes back to the notepad.

“ What weirdly unattractive quote will make your soulmate fall in love with you.”

She makes the gesture of turning the page again, but there’s of course still nothing written on the back.

“With a giveaway of nothing?”

“I was debating on it when you came in.”

“Alright. Maybe that’s for the best. I don’t get how you can be so bad at everything outside of your specific funny-redaction field. You got dry humor alright, but you don’t understand the audience.”

Shouta deflates.

“What do you mean?”

“Come now, linguistic methodology booklets? What is that? Who would even be interested in getting this delivered at their house?”

“I would.”

He actually has some of those back home.

“I feel like I would participate in a giveaway to not be sent that. You have to consider who we have on the other side of the screen.”

“Well what do you suggest, then?”

Joke taps a finger on her chin.

“Toshinori found a mix between his thing, mine, and Midnight’s. It’d be good to find something linking at least three of our sections.”

“Should we film ourselves learning foreign languages?”

She throws him a look between disgusted and horrified, and it reminds Shouta of how he feels when Tensei suggests animal quizzes. Maybe it means that everyone should stick to their specialties.

“Please stop having ideas. I’ll go ask Midnight for her opinion.”

He doesn’t humor her with an answer. Instead, he checks his phone. Still nothing.

Midnight and Joke join him at his desk a few minutes later, both looking very satisfied.

“You know that Tensei was actually asking me how we could capitalize on its success,” Midnight is telling Joke. “But it’s so short, we didn’t think of recording any bloopers.”

That gives Shouta a bad feeling. It’s not as if there were many videos that got them a few hundred subscribers in a couple of days.

“Joke and I,” starts Midnight in a tone eerily reminiscent of a ‘your mom and I,’ speech, “want to make something with the tiktok singer again.”

Shouta’s smile is a bit strained.

“Great. Have fun. You have my blessing.”

Joke sighs loudly and perches herself on his desk again. Shouta decides that he much rather prefers Midnight’s professionalism.

“You got to be on board with it. It’s gonna involve you.”

“Present Mic’s fanbase has been asking for you two to do something new together, and no one here is about to say no to easy exposure. And Present Mic understands his market. He’ll probably agree too.”

You don’t know how much, Shouta thinks dryly.

“Why do his fans even care about this?” he asks instead. “About how he talks to some reporter? I just don’t get it.”

“People have fantasized about their idols for centuries,” Midnight replies.

“No, I know that. If they want to imagine themselves with the guy then good for them, harmless fantasies and all that. But then why would they want to imagine Present Mic lusting over me ? Or over anyone else? Isn’t it against the whole point?”

“You’re old,” Joke says.

“I can’t say I’m an expert,” adds Midnight more carefully, “but I suppose this is the point where fantasies turn into something older, more realistic. Don’t make that face, I say more realistic. Those teenagers don’t always wish to actually date a 31 years old, but they accumulate a lot of love for him and it’s a way to vent about it, I suppose.”

“But I don’t even know the guy.”

“It’s not about you, though. They don’t really care about you. They’re fans of him. But why are you so surprised that they imagined that? Weren’t you the one to say that he paid extra attention to people on purpose?”

Shouta decides that he much prefers Joke’s indifference.

“What do you want to do with him, anyway? Another interview? I thought we were building bridges or something with the giveaways and quizzes.”

Joke shrugs.

“We’ll see that with him. Midnight pretends that he’s good at retaining an audience, so we can do with his input. We should come up with something good as long as you don’t give us any of your amazing ideas.”

Shouta glares at her. His hands feel twitchy and he goes to spin his pen between his fingers, but he puts too much strength in it and the pen ends up flying across the desk.

Joke snorts. Midnight sends him a puzzled look.

“You’re alright with doing something else with Present Mic, right? I thought you two had gotten along pretty well. Did he send you any message by the way? He asked me for your number.”

“He did,” says Shouta blankly. “And no, no problem. It’s a good idea.”

He’s aware how well they both like the idea. He can’t very well veto it for a stupid uneasy feeling related to online comments, and especially when he doesn’t even come across any of those comments in his everyday life.

When they leave, he checks his phone again. No new message. He watches as Midnight writes something on her phone before pocketing it.

He sighs tiredly, and starts typing.

[Shouta] You might have gotten a message from my coworker. If you haven’t yet, she’s going to ask you to do something new with my company.

The answer comes immediately.

[Work_Present Mic] I got it

[Work_Present Mic] I was kinda wondering what it was about lol

Shouta wonders if he’s imagining things or if those answers really are stiffer than they used to be. Well, it’s not as if he feels like talking casually.

[Shouta] Since your interview worked well, they want to try another partnership with you.

[Work_Present Mic] okay

A few seconds, then:

[Work_Present Mic] what about you?

Shouta pauses.

[Shouta] What do you mean?

[Work_Present Mic] was it your idea?

[Shouta] No, but I’ll be there too. My coworker will shoot something else with you and me, like you wanted.

[Shouta] Seems like it was destined to be.

[Work_Present Mic] yeah, it does

He doesn’t sound half as enthusiastic as Shouta was expecting which is a bit of a bummer, because he thought at least one person would be happy about the situation. Shouta’s already about to ask about it when his phone buzzes again.

[Work_Present Mic] do you want me to say no?

Shouta reads the message twice, puzzled.

[Shouta] You don’t want to do it anymore?

[Work_Present Mic] course I do ahah

[Work_Present Mic] but I don’t if it’s a problem to you, and given how you said you felt I figured maybe you’ve been forced to accept this because she’s your coworker

[Work_Present Mic] if I’m the one to say no you’re off the hook

That’s… sweet. That makes him feel unexpectedly warm.

Shouta puts down his phone face down, absentmindedly strumming on its case. He wants to bask in this feeling for a bit longer. Wouldn’t it be great if Present Mic took the blame for him? Midnight (probably) wouldn’t push if the guy just didn’t seem interested. They’d drop the idea and Shouta would continue on his merry way, making his little quizzes and forgetting about that one-time interview with some blond guy with a bright smile.

That’s what he wants, right?

He thinks of how carefree he felt when he was texting Present Mic, of how easily the guy’s messages made him laugh, and he’s not quite sure anymore.

So he stops his strumming, unlocks his phone and starts typing again.

[Shouta] No, let’s do this.

A beat, then:

[Work_Present Mic] you’re sure?

[Shouta] I’m sure.

[Work_Present Mic] what you wouldn’t do to see me again, eh?

His face feels hot, and he decides not to answer that.

It’s not as if Shouta could prove him wrong.

Chapter Text

The perks of working with self-employed people working on the internet, says Midnight, is how quickly they can make themselves available. She herself has to postpone another meeting in the city, and they all agree to shift their ‘team weekly review’ meeting to next week. It’s telling of how quickly Tensei and Midnight want to set up their new project, and of how eager Joke, Shouta and Toshinori are to skip the weekly meeting. Those meetings are usually a video call with Nedzu on Friday afternoons to review their achievement of the week and all their new ideas – mandatory, and deadly boring.

The morning is very relaxing for Shouta. They put the couch, the interview chair and a couple of office chairs in a circle around two joined tables, leaving a space for Tensei’s wheelchair to fit, and Joke, Tensei and Midnight start brainstorming. Present Mic isn’t expected before at least 3 pm but Shouta supposes they’re all excited by the challenge.

Shouta initially half-heartedly tried to join them, but Joke kicked him out the second he said that the most appealing object for people who just spent 10 minutes looking at Present Mic’s pictures in a quiz would be a shaving kit. So Shouta is now idly adding some more information on Joke’s Excel spreadsheet and waiting for lunch. Toshinori, who’s not even involved in all of this but who’ll join because the Friday afternoon is blocked for team events anyway, is watching videos on youtube that Shouta couldn’t swear are related to tarot at all.

[Work_Present Mic] am I supposed to prepare a few ideas?

Shouta glances at the tables, where Midnight is furiously scribbling on a whiteboard.

[Shouta] I think they have at least twenty ready already.

[Shouta] Unless it’s a very long one.

[Work_Present Mic] they told you if they planned to bank on the singing thing or just the internet fame thing?

To be fair, Shouta always forgets about the singing part. He sees the guy more as a reality TV star than anything else.

[Shouta] They’ll probably bank on anything they can think of.

[Work_Present Mic] thats the entertainment industry for you

He wonders if the tone is bitter or matter-of-factly. That’s the problem with texting.

But remembering Present Mic’s artificial acting during the interview, the TV host laughs and the performer postures, he’s not sure he is much easier to read in person.

At the back of the office, near the bay window, Joke has started to cover the whiteboard with doodles.

[Shouta] You should probably bring some ideas. If you’re lucky they’ll like them well enough not to present you all of theirs.

[Work_Present Mic] ah damn

[Work_Present Mic] alright let me finish some video editing and Im on it

[Work_Present Mic] when am I supposed to be here again?

Shouta snorts. It’s barely noon and he can see Tensei checking his watch every ten minutes.

[Shouta] 3 pm. Don’t be late or they might inflict their presentation on me.

Present Mic sends a laughing face.

[Work_Present Mic] I’ll do my best

At 1 pm the atmosphere is so tense inside that Toshinori and Shouta eat their lunches outside.

“Workaholics,” Toshinori comments, and Shouta sententiously nods.

“It feels like April all over again.”

“Don’t remind me of April.”

There had been a traveling circus in town, with colorful marquees and smiling acrobats, and it had turned out that a friend of a friend of Toshinori knew the circle owner. The circus had only stayed in town three weeks in which Midnight and Tensei had decided to milk it the best they could – circus interviews, circus documentaries, circus quizzes, circus horoscopes, circus merchandise piling up on Joke’s desk. There even was an ugly A1-sized circus poster on the wall for weeks before Shouta stopped by the office at 5 am to make it disappear. It had been a dark, dark circus month in collective memories (his and Toshinori’s, at least. But even Joke got tired of it after the first ten days).

Toshinori and him agree to escape the anxiogenic atmosphere a bit more by taking a coffee outside at the restaurant next door. At 2:45 pm Shouta gets a “grabbing food on the way, I’ll be a bit late sry” that he forwards to Midnight, which means that they both only come back to the office a few minutes after 3 pm strikes.

“You two are lucky you’re not late,” Midnight almost growls at them. Shouta has barely started to try reading what’s written on the whiteboard (keyword being try) when the intercom beeps.

“Coming,” Midnight screeches at the box before she exits the office.

Shouta wonders if he should join her, considering he’s the one who talked to Present Mic the most, but he hears her tumble down the stairs before he even made up his mind.

“Is she alright?” Toshinori asks in a commiserative tone.

“She’s a bit speed,” Joke grimaces. “She’s convinced that it could be a turning point for us. As long as we let her talk though it should be alright.”

Even Tensei nods to that. Grimly foreseeing two hours of inscrutable marketing talks, Shouta grabs his notepad and a pen. Note-taking it will be.

They hear Midnight’s chatter in the corridor before she opens the door, and Shouta finds himself in front of Present Mic for the second time in his life.

He hasn’t changed, he supposes. His clothes are less colorful than last time, but the black leather outfit is simply a different kind of over the top. He’s holding a cone of French fries.

“Hello everybody,” Present Mic smiles. “Nice to see you again.”

It’s peculiar to see him again now that they’ve texted. Somehow, Shouta’s idea of Present Mic has shifted to a Work_Present Mic whose texts make him laugh rather than the actual blond guy in front of him. Out of the blue he wonders what Present Mic thought of him the first time they saw each other, four days ago, in this very office. As for himself, he sure didn’t expect to see him so soon. And although he found him a bit foolish back then, he’s glad to see his smile now.

“Let’s not waste time,” Midnight practically orders as she leads him to the joined tables, and they all follow. “We were chatting a bit earlier about all this.”

That makes it sounds like they exchanged a few casual words over the coffee machine rather than spent hours hunched on a desk in a deeply ominous atmosphere, and the dumbfounded look that Toshinori sends Shouta makes him snort. Midnight sends them a hard stare over her shoulder and Shouta catches Present Mic’s polite, amused look.

He’s different in person.

“Take the couch,” Joke tells Present Mic. “Shouta, you too.”

Given how much he had participated in the meeting’s preparation (not at all), Shouta had been fully expecting to be relegated to one of the office chairs (it would at least make it easier for Joke to wheel him away if he tried to offer ideas).

It’s not like Joke to offer free couch seats and that makes Shouta wince. He’d been warily expecting them to use whatever appeal people found in him and Present Mic’s supposed closeness, but not to do it so soon. Suddenly, he feels deeply uncomfortable. As he sits next to Present Mic he takes care that their elbows don’t touch, as if some fans were watching with binoculars from the other side of the street.

“Don’t mind me I’m taking some pictures,” says Tensei while pulling out his phone, as if there was any way to not mind him knowing that hundreds of people online were sure to comment on those pictures. 

From the corner of his eye Shouta sees Present Mic make a wide gesture, barely avoiding spilling his fries.

“Oh please don’t, I wanna keep this collaboration secret for now. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

Tensei shakes his head, visibly surprised.

“Man, I can’t wait to see their reaction when they find out!”

Shouta physically relaxes into the cushions when Tensei puts his phone back down, and he thanks whatever god responsible for the concept of delayed gratification.

“So Present Mic,” Midnight smiles, “what have you been up to?”

Present Mic picks one of his fries and thoughtfully chews on it. From where he sits, Shouta can see the way his jaw moves. He’s clean shaven – apart from that mustache, of course.

“You know, pleasing the crowds and all that. I’ve started trying private calls recently but with the worldwide time differences it’s turning out to be a nightmare. I mean it pays well but I’m not yet convinced that it’s worth it. I haven’t been sleeping much.”

He eats another fry and shrugs.

“Actually last night I didn't sleep at all.”

Toshinori lets out an actual audible gasp. Now that he’s looking for it, Shouta sees the slightly darker area under his eyes. He wonders if Present Mic is covering it with makeup – he certainly sounds vain enough to do that.

“It’s terrible.” Midnight says sympathetically. “You’re still young, but you should put your health first.”

“Yeah, I know. But my audience is still growing so I’m trying not to release the pressure quite yet.”

Midnight and Tensei both nod, as if managing a fanbase of who knows how many groupies was an everyday worry of them.

Present Mic downs two fries at once and smiles one of his popstar smiles.

“But enough about me, let’s get to it right?”

Joke, who looked like she was starting to nod off, jumps to her feet.

“Great idea! So we wrote some things down, unless you have ideas that you’d rather submit first?”

“Oh, go on. It’ll give me a bit of time to finish my lunch.”

He raises his French fries’ cone as if giving a toast, and Shouta wonders about the probability that he hasn’t eaten anything else for lunch. High, given that he got those fries on the way. And given how little he seems to care about his health.

Suddenly, Present Mic turns to him and holds the cone to Shouta’s face.

“Want one?” he whispers.

They smell good, but the guy already seems unfed enough as it is.

“Keep them. You’ll need strength if you want to follow that presentation.”

He smiles.

“And you don’t?”

“Maybe I would -” here he lowers his voice “- if I planned to follow.”

Present Mic laughs softly, and he looks at Shouta with something fond in his eyes. Then he turns back to Joke and her whiteboard, and the moment is gone.

The afternoon is agonizingly slow. Shouta starts to doze off around Tensei’s third idea and he never manages to go back to full attention again after that. Their voices are soothing, though. Not quiet, bedtime stories type, but it’s the sound of people doing what they love and it’s pleasing to hear. Present Mic's voice is nice, too. Figures, for a singer.

When the guy leaves a few hours later they all look like they agreed on their marketing strategy, and Shouta doesn’t have the slightest inkling of what that could be. His mind is foggy and he feels in a general bad mood that he’s not sure how to explain.

It's not as if he expected Present Mic and him to be the best of buddies but, even taking into account the fact that they were sitting side by side for hours, the cone fries thing had been the only time Present Mic even properly acknowledged Shouta’s presence.

The worst thing is, he feels the need to vent to Work_Present Mic about it.

This is maddening.

He’s walking back home, and is in the middle of convincing himself that the whole thing has been a misunderstanding and that he’s been texting Present Mic’s manager or something, when his phone buzzes.

[Work_Present Mic] you good?

He grumbles nothing in particular, and that annoys him even more. He’s supposed to get rid of the grumbling.

[Shouta] Sure.

Since there’s no good way to transcript grumbling into texts, he leaves it at that.

[Work_Present Mic] sure

[Work_Present Mic] so I have a question

[Work_Present Mic] but don’t take it personally

[Shouta] Sounds like something I’m about to take personally.

He opens his apartment door a bit more forcefully than necessary. Present Mic sends a laughing emote, then:

[Work_Present Mic] were you sulking earlier or were you just tired?

Shouta freezes in the middle of taking off his shoe, and that almost makes him topple over.

[Shouta] Why would I be sulking?

[Work_Present Mic] dunno, no french fries?

Even now, he can’t make the two Present Mic overlaps. He feels like he’s going crazy.

[Shouta] You looked like you needed them more than me.

[Work_Present Mic] wait is that why you said no?

[Work_Present Mic] we could’ve gone buying some more after the meeting ended

[Shouta] You should probably sleep.

[Work_Present Mic] are you being thoughtful or am I being rejected?

[Shouta] Let's talk about it after you’ve slept.

Then, because he left the office a bit quickly (in a way that some lesser beings, perhaps, would call sulking), he calls Toshinori.

After all, if there’s a marketing strategy involving him, he’d rather know about it beforehand. And preferably from someone who doesn’t make it sound like an equally hard and boring foreign language.

Turns out Toshinori didn't really listen either but was simply better at concealing it. Shouta supposes Midnight, Joke and Tensei will brief them about it on Monday.

[Work_Present Mic] yo

[Work_Present Mic] good morning

It’s 9 pm, and Shouta is in the middle of cooking.

[Shouta] Your sleeping schedule is a mess.

A pause. Shouta has the time to finish cutting the zucchinis before the replies come.

[Work_Present Mic] I have it easy compared to some people I know

Shouta sighs.

[Shouta] And what do you think their living expectancy is?

[Work_Present Mic] ahah

[Work_Present Mic] I suppose that’s the life of entertainers

[Work_Present Mic] we thrive by letting our vital energy get sucked away

[Work_Present Mic] like some sort of reversed vampire

This isn’t very funny.

[Shouta] You should take care of yourself more.

[Work_Present Mic] eh it’s the work I chose

[Work_Present Mic] you got to keep delivering if you want your audience to grow steady

[Shouta] Why does it even matter?

[Shouta] Is it a money thing?

He can’t believe he’s actually thinking of offering money to some guy he met on Monday to force him to take days off. He never saw himself as the altruistic type but he supposes Present Mic looked too pitiful, eating bright yellow French fries in a business meeting at 3 pm. Or something.

[Work_Present Mic] no

Shouta puts the zucchini slices in the boiling water and adds olive oil. When he looks back at his phone, there’s no new message. From some guy capable of sending four texts in a row, a simple “no” is plain weird. Thinking back of the shiny leather Present Mic wore today, though, Shouta figures it’s probably not about money.

[Shouta] Then what, recognition?

A pause again.

[Work_Present Mic] I have to upload a video soon

[Work_Present Mic] it’s a friday night thing

[Work_Present Mic] lets talk later

Shouta has never been the type of person to suggest parties, or night outs, or even phone calls, so he’s not used to rejection. And even then, he’s not the type of person to take things personally.

This hurts, though.  

[Shouta] Alright.

Then, because he doesn’t know what he said wrong but there probably was something, he adds:

[Shouta] I’m sorry.

Present Mic doesn’t ask about what. He simply sends a single, smiling emote.

It doesn’t feel very genuine.

Chapter Text

Shouta doesn’t hear from him at all on Saturday.

Since Present Mic ended the conversation so curtly, Shouta had planned to let him start the next conversation when he was ready. On Sunday, though, he’s getting a little worried. He cooks himself home-made lasagnas for lunch, and sends a picture to Present Mic.

[Shouta] Beats your French fries anytime.

The answer comes almost an hour later, and Shouta hopes it means that he was getting some sleep.

[Work_Present Mic] probably

[Work_Present Mic] Im sorry about friday

[Shouta] Don’t be, I shouldn’t have pried. It won’t happen again.

[Work_Present Mic] I didn’t mean that

[Work_Present Mic] but sorry about that too

That’s puzzling.

[Shouta] What are you talking about?

[Work_Present Mic] how I acted at your work

Shouta stares at his screen. He’s utterly lost.

[Shouta] What?

[Work_Present Mic] I didnt want to look close to you

[Work_Present Mic] bc I know it makes you uncomfortable

[Work_Present Mic] and even your coworker wanted to take pictures

[Work_Present Mic] but I was too much of a coward to talk to you about it

[Work_Present Mic] thats pathetic

Shouta feels like he’s in some weird dream, and he definitely liked the Madrid ones better.

[Work_Present Mic] can I call you?

Shouta grabs a bottle of juice in his fridge and puts it down with a glass on his coffee table. Then, he sinks on the sofa.

[Shouta] Sure.

He’s learned long ago that most of the stress comes from the anticipation, and that hesitating or delaying would make the idea of a call with Present Mic much worse.

It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t consider hanging up when his phone starts to buzz.

“Yeah?”

“Hi.”

The voice sounds exhausted. Shouta frowns.

“You alright?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about Friday.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Shouta almost adds I don’t get where this is coming from but the last thing he wants is for Present Mic to feel patronized.

“You don’t resent me?”

“Why would I?”

There’s a quiet sigh at the other end of the line.

“I’m glad you don’t,” Present Mic answers softly. “I was worried I fucked up.”

He falls into silence, and Shouta is left to wonder what that means.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have asked personal questions. We’re not that close.”

He thought they had been having a casual conversation, but public figures are probably more protective of whatever privacy they have left.

“No it’s my fault. It wasn’t even a big deal, I just freaked out.”

Shouta frowns.

“Why?”

“It’s just…” Present Mic seems unsure of himself, and damn if Shouta ever expected him to sound like that. It doesn’t suit him.

“ I usually talk to subscribers or to people working in my field. I don’t know how to handle other people. And earlier when that guy, your coworker, wanted to take a picture of us… It must have been the first time in years when someone didn’t want to be in a picture with me. I felt like I failed at something.”

Shouta winces. He starts fiddling with the zipper of his couch cover.

“I’m sorry about that. I can’t deny I was relieved that you said no.”

“I know. I know, that’s why I said it. I could at least give you that. You seemed about to throw yourself out of the window.”   

“I thought you said no to keep the collaboration a secret?”

Present Mic laughs. It’s a nice sound. His voice seems less strained than before, and Shouta is starting to understand why fans would pay to call him at night. He likes the sound of that voice.

“I came with it on the spot to spare you the photoshoot. It doesn’t really matter to me anyway, I’m working on other projects at the same time.”

It brings Shouta back to the moment when Present Mic offered to decline Friday’s meeting for him.

“Thank you. That was nice.”

There’s a “hmm”, then the rustling of someone letting out a slow breath.

“I’m just trying to downplay my negative impact on your life. I don’t want you to get scared away or anything. I wished I could’ve been friendlier to you, Friday, but I was scared that your coworkers might want to use that somehow. She’s a shark, that Midnight.”

Shouta bursts out laughing. He needs it to lower the tension somewhat. He feels the pressure in his stomach, burning and chilling, keeping him on edge. It’s not pleasant, yet he doesn’t want the call to end just now. He wants to hear Present Mic talk again.

“She really is a shark. She’d do anything for her job.”

“I figured. When I left she looked like she was about to spend her week-end working on everything we said.”

There’s a smile in Present Mic’s voice and Shouta feels himself mirroring it.

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Some people really need to take breaks.”

In the small pause that follows Shouta gets the terrifying thought that he’s just triggered Present Mic again and that he’s about to get hung up upon. But he finally answers, with a voice that sounds more tired than before.

“I know you’re right. She must be made of the same wood than me. I don’t do what I do for money or reputation or anything, you know?”

Shouta blinks, surprised.

“I got something that I made. I was this 21 years old dropout from an English literature course I never liked, and all I had for me was this music band playing at student festivals. Borrowed equipment only. I had to hold the microphone cord in a certain way or the sound wouldn’t go through. We barely even made money. And I… I’m not going to bore you with all this shit but we gave it our everything. We joined every festival that would have us, we would serve refreshments and install marquees and everything just so they would let us do our thing for one night. And on the next morning we would walk around with huge trash bags to pick up the cans and the beer bottles in the grass. Once our guitarist cut herself so deep picking up a broken bottle that she had to get her band bandaged by a paramedic, and on the next night she was playing again.”

Present Mic laughs a little. It’s bittersweet.

“I don’t even talk to them anymore. Sometimes I wonder how they’re doing. I mean I know that’s stupid. I could ask, I still have their number. But it’s not the same, you know? We changed. Our guitarist works in a carwash. Our drummer went back to Morocco.”

“But you kept on making music, right?” Shouta says softly. “Is that why you’re working so hard? To carry on what you did back then?”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t think so. I think maybe I changed as much as they did. It’s completely different from what we used to do. People pay to talk to me, and most of the time they don’t even ask me to sing. I get comments from people accusing me of using music as a selling point.”

“Those people don’t know you.”

Shouta feels upset, despite (or because of) the fact that he could’ve said this kind of thing a few days ago.

“They don’t matter,” he says more kindly. “You’re passionate about your job. A lot of people on this Earth wish they could say the same. I have no doubt that you put a lot of passion in your videos and that they’re great.”

“You mean you still haven’t seen any?”

“No,” Shouta replies before quickly adding “sorry.”

Present Mic giggles a little before it turns into a full laugh. Shouta wishes he could record that sound somehow.

“I can’t believe it.”

“If you feel like you’re losing your time I can always hang up,” he deadpans.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that,” answers Present Mic in a fast, almost begging way that surprises Shouta. “I went all the way to your office twice now and you haven’t even seen one tiktok video. I feel cheated somehow.”

“Life is unfair,” Shouta agrees.

He absentmindedly looks at the balcony. The sky is bright blue. He wonders if Present Mic is the type to walk around or to stay still when he’s on the phone.

In all honesty he’d rather keep his own version of Present Mic, the funny texts and the soft words he gave to Shouta only. Looking at scripted videos watched by countless others, he’d feel like he’d taint his version somehow. But it would feel silly to say it out loud. Instead, he settles for:

“When I wanted to talk about it two days ago you didn’t want to answer. What changed?”

“Well I… I suppose I didn’t want to overshare. I thought that it was best if we kept some distance, because of everything.”

“And you don’t think that anymore?”

“No, I do. But I’m more egoistical than I thought. Or needy, I don’t know. I’d like for us to be friends.”

Shouta feels himself smile.

“I’d like that too.”

There’s a noise that Shouta doesn’t recognize immediately: Present Mic is yawning.

“Man, that’s great. You’re a good guy, Shouta. Sorry if I bored you. I tend to talk a lot.”

( I think I tend to like listening to you talk, Shouta doesn’t say.)

“That’s a good thing, given the work you’re doing. How much have you slept?”

“That’s a good question.”

“Well, that’s definitely not a good answer.”

Present Mic yawns again. He sounds way more relaxed than he did when Shouta first picked up the phone.

“You should go to sleep.”

“Oh, speaking of that.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you follow what we said at the meeting?”

Shouta clears his throat, a little embarrassed.

“More or less.”

“What did you get?”

“We’re going to do something with some guy named Michael, I think.”

Present Mic sounds deeply puzzled.

“Who?”

“God, it was a joke. A good one. It’s ruined now.”

“Oh, because you thought I… I get it now. Very funny.”

“Sure. Go to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just know that I vetoed anything extra weird your team said but we’re still gonna see each other a bit more in the near future.”

“I’ll try to survive that.”

Then, because it gets him curious:

“Which were better, your ‘did-I-need-to-prepare-anything’ ideas or theirs?”

“Depends on the aim of the strategy, I’d say. We didn’t view it the exact same way. But at least none of us said anything about language-learning booklets so we’re still good.”

Shouta groans.

“They told you about that?”

“Midnight did before I even stepped foot into the office. She finds you very funny.”

Despite his best efforts, Shouta can’t help it. He grumbles.

“Do that sound again, you sound even more like a gramps.”

But there’s no real bite in it.

When they hang up, Shouta feels in a daze. For a second, he wonders what the juice is even doing on his coffee table. He drinks slowly, staring into space.

Maybe he should put some money aside, to buy himself Present Mic’s private calls.

“I made everyone flashcards,” Midnight lets them know first thing in the morning.

“You know you’re not paid to work on the week-ends, right?” Joke says.

Midnight ignores her, dropping a piece of green carboard on her desk. They’re printed, which means she actually went to a print shop. Shouta knows he’ll never be like Midnight, but he thinks that maybe he understands her better now. She’s the type to play guitar with a bandaged hand.

He gets the yellow flashcard. It looks like something out of a spy movie.

            SHOUTA

•       Quiz: general freedom but no shaving mention
•       Video: insider series [/PM]
•       Merchandise: recording help? [/Jk+PM]

He snorts.

“Are we allowed to discuss our missions with the others or does that entail death by sniper?”

“You wouldn’t have to discuss them with others now if you had actually taken part in Friday's meeting,” Midnight shoots back - and he can’t argue because she’s right.

“One of our big points of contention with Present Mic was how dense the campaign was going to be,” Tensei states. “He has various projects that he usually keeps on a strict schedule, weekly events, monthly Q&A, all the kind.”

Shouta remembers the Friday video thing.

“And he thought we’d do something like that,” Tensei carries on. “Meet up every week, shoot a scene or two and be done with it.”

“But we,” says Midnight, “want to do it the circus way.”

“The circus way,” repeats Shouta slowly, sensing dread building up.

He sees Toshinori recoil in his seat.

“Like the traveling circus back in April,” Midnight clarifies, oblivious. “Rapid-fire uploads. Find a vein and mine it. We don’t know how long Present Mic will agree to do this. We can’t risk crafting a semester-long plan when he’s liable to get a better opportunity and ditch us in a month.”

Shouta doesn’t think that Present Mic would be the kind to break commitments, but he’s probably a bit biased. It’s not as if he knew him on a professional level.

“So he’s going to hang around here all the time?”

“Not exactly. I have a video planned with him near the docks tomorrow. And you have the insider series.”

Shouta looks back at his flashcard.

“ PM as in afternoon?”

“PM as in Present Mic,” groans Joke. “You really are hopeless. I should do the insider thing.”

“To each their mission,” Shouta answers a bit defensively.

He has no idea what it is about but she apparently thinks it’s a cool thing, so damn if he’ll let her take it.

“Tensei will put together a planning so we take the best advantage of the time Present Mic gave us, without actually exhausting him. Anyone have questions about their missions?”

Toshinori raises a hand as if they were in high school.

“What’s a Present Mic themed horoscope supposed to look like?”

Shouta snorts.

“Aries: today, you will wake up and not be Present Mic. Taurus: you’ll try to log into Present Mic’s social accounts but fail because you’re not Present Mic. Gemini: you’ll look in the mirror and realize there’s no horrible mustache to shave, because you’re-“

“We get it,” grumbles Tensei, and Shouta’s pretty sure that he’s the one who came with the idea of something that ridiculous.

“Just ask your niece,” Joke grins. “She seems like a good kid.”

After reading it again, Shouta snaps a picture of his flashcard and sends it to Present Mic.

[Shouta] So what’s this?

The answer is immediate.

[Work_Present Mic] ahahah

[Work_Present Mic] they made you your own flashcard

[Work_Present Mic] whats next? instruction videos, primary school way?

Shouta’s always liked texting Present Mic, always liked joking around with him, but it feels different now. He can almost read the texts in his voice.

[Shouta] Everyone got flashcards, not just me.

[Work_Present Mic] sure, sure

[Shouta] What’s the insider thing?

[Work_Present Mic] they didn’t tell you?

[Shouta] I’d rather ask you, since I’m supposed to do it with you.

[Work_Present Mic] well

[Work_Present Mic] its nothing terrible

[Work_Present Mic] you spend some time with me & you take videos

[Shouta] I’m bad at videos. Why isn’t Midnight doing that?

[Work_Present Mic] you know why

Shouta rubs his thigh in an almost manic way. He feels uneasy again.

[Shouta] Oh, okay.

[Work_Present Mic] Shouta

[Work_Present Mic] dont worry

[Work_Present Mic] it’ll be cool :)

A pause, then:

[Work_Present Mic] you don’t have to actually appear on screen if you don’t want to

Shouta smiles a tad resentfully.

[Shouta] I don’t think that’s their plan.

[Work_Present Mic] I’ll say it’s my fault

[Work_Present Mic] I was afraid you’d steal my show, you know?

[Work_Present Mic] with those eyelashes of yours

That’s unexpected

[Shouta] My eyelashes?

[Work_Present Mic] first thing I noticed about you, I think

[Work_Present Mic] that and the global bored vibe

[Shouta] The first thing I noticed about you were your clothes.

[Work_Present Mic] jealous much?

[Shouta] I was getting second-hand embarrassment from the tackiness.

[Work_Present Mic] ouch

[Work_Present Mic] liked the leather outfit better?

The leather outfit… was not a bad look on Present Mic.

[Shouta] Disliked it less.

Out of spite, he adds a “:)” emote that he never would’ve used otherwise.

[Work_Present Mic] should’ve guessed you were the leather type ;)

He doesn’t even know how to answer that – he doesn’t remember Present Mic so boldly flirting recently, and he himself isn’t the bold flirting expert – so he settles for a “yeah, sure” and goes back to work.

There’s a weird feeling in his chest.

It’s not impossible that he’s starting to catch feelings.

Chapter Text

The work environment gets a bit hectic after that. Tensei and Midnight look on edge, and even Joke spends her time fidgeting. Toshinori, as always, seems perfectly immune to the general atmosphere. He deals amazingly with pressure.

Shouta spends the morning sorting out files. He’s been postponing it ever since Nedzu canceled his ranking/lists section because of the sheer number of now-useless folders to review: drafts, statistics, screenshots of comments, heaps of pictures, etc. He sends some of the statistics to Tensei, and puts everything else on an external storage. Then, he deletes it from his personal cloud.

It looks pretty empty, now.

It leaves him with a taste of nostalgia that he didn’t expect.

On Monday afternoon they hold a call with Nedzu (Friday’s postponed meeting) and they explain the whole thing to him. Shouta mostly zones out, but he gathers that Nedzu is very enthusiastic about it. He also learns that his insider mission starts on the next day, something he wishes he was told beforehand.

(“We decided this morning,” says Midnight. “Present Mic has cleared his whole schedule tomorrow for us, I’m taking the morning and you the afternoon. What does it change anyway? It’s not like you were going to book a hair appointment for this, were you?”

Shouta idly wonders if Present Mic will get a haircut on purpose – or maybe even a mustache shave, one can never be too hopeful).

On the way back home he sees an advertisement poster for an energy drink made to look like a Renaissance painting, and the nostalgia hits him again. He feels pretty miserable all of the sudden. He’ll never browse his bookmarked art websites again to massively download everything they have on a specific theme - and Shouta is aware that it is a stupid thing to miss, that it used to be a pain to sort out and pick from, but somehow he wishes he could be doing it again one more time.

Shouta has never been one for changes.

When he gets to his flat he feels tired, and it’s not even 6 pm.

[Work_Present Mic] so apparently Im seeing you tomorrow?

He collapses on his couch. It takes him a bit of time to muster the courage to type.

[Shouta] Apparently

[Work_Present Mic] I knew you were so eager to see me but get a grip

[Work_Present Mic] it was supposed to start on thursday

[Shouta] I didn’t know.

[Work_Present Mic] Im sure they told you but you were just sleeping

[Shouta] Yeah, maybe

Shouta puts his phone aside and looks at the ceiling. It’s one of those moments where he knows he won’t be able to come up with jokes, and he won’t be any fun to be around. He doesn’t want to put Present Mic through that.

He falls asleep looking at a damp patch on the ceiling.

When Shouta wakes up it’s almost 10 pm, and he’s gotten two new texts from Present Mic. “You alright?” a few seconds after Shouta’s last message, and “???” an hour later. 

He puts some frozen vegetables in the oven and sighs.

[Shouta] Yes.

[Shouta] Don’t worry

He’s always through eating dessert when Present Mic answers.

[Work_Present Mic] yeah no you’re not

[Work_Present Mic] you’re not even using punctuation anymore

[Work_Present Mic] which should make you sound more normal but somehow doesn’t

Shouta finishes his part of cake and wipes his hands on a napkin. He debates on sending him “lets talk later” (he’s still sore about that one) but that wouldn’t be very mature. Or nice. Present Mic isn’t responsible for what’s happening to him.

[Shouta] Bad day, that’s all.

[Work_Present Mic] is it about the insider thing?

Shouta hadn’t even thought about that. He supposes that his willingness to see the guy surpasses his feeling of dread.

[Shouta] No.

[Shouta] Don’t worry, I’ll be fine tomorrow.

This kind of melancholy usually goes away during the night.

[Work_Present Mic] but youre not fine now

[Work_Present Mic] wanna talk about it?

[Work_Present Mic] we can call if you want

Shouta considers it, thinks of how nice it would feel to hear his voice, but he knows he can’t.

[Shouta] Too tired to talk.

[Work_Present Mic] then texting?

[Shouta] I don’t want to monopolize your time. It’s not very interesting.

[Work_Present Mic] come on man, I made you listen to me rant about some band who stopped playing ten years ago

[Work_Present Mic] even it out or I’ll feel guilty forever

Shouta smiles tiredly, and starts typing.

[Shouta] I used to write rankings and such for my work, to publish on the internet. But recently it changed, I’m making quizzes now. It’s not bad but I guess it only hit me today that I probably wouldn’t write rankings ever again and how many memories I have attached to it. That’s all, really. It’s dumb.

[Work_Present Mic] so you’re grieving?

[Shouta] I wouldn’t say it’s grief. More like nostalgia, or sadness. I don’t know.

[Work_Present Mic] if you don’t like quizzes couldn’t you ask to do something else instead?

[Work_Present Mic] surely if you’re not motivated by it it’s in their best interest to change it too

[Shouta] No, quizzes are fun.

[Shouta] But it’s a whole new thing.

[Work_Present Mic] oh so you don’t like changes?

[Shouta] Yeah, I guess that’s it.

[Work_Present Mic] you’re not excited to see where it could get you?

[Shouta] I like my work but I’m not sure excited is the right word for it. I get excited by good book plots or classical music pieces, not by assignments I get paid for.

[Shouta] I mean it’s not sad or anything, I like a job well done, but I’m not like you or Midnight.

[Work_Present Mic] yeah, I understand

[Work_Present Mic] I wish I could help you more

[Work_Present Mic] I can treat you to some food tomorrow?

That makes Shouta snort.

[Shouta] Greasy street French fries?

Present Mic sends an angry emote.

[Work_Present Mic] they werent greasy

[Work_Present Mic] they were melty

[Work_Present Mic] you’re just upset that you didn’t have any

[Shouta] Yeah, that must be it.

The nostalgia hasn’t left him, of course, but he feels a bit better.

[Shouta] I’m going to sleep, thanks for listening

[Work_Present Mic] I don’t feel like I helped much but anytime

[Work_Present Mic] and hey

[Work_Present Mic] if you had never tried anything knew, you wouldn’t have done that interview and we wouldn’t be talking

[Work_Present Mic] maybe you’ll meet tons of other handsome men through your quizzes

Shouta actually laughs at that.

[Shouta] Probably. I hope they’ll have better food taste than you.

Then, because it hits him after:

[Shouta] Why would I be interested in men anyway?

Present Mic’s next text is three laughing faces.

[Work_Present Mic] I think I would’ve known by now if you weren’t

Whatever that means.

[Work_Present Mic] also I asked your coworker

Midnight is the type to overshare (and especially about other people) but Shouta can’t bring himself to resent her this time.

[Shouta] Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

[Work_Present Mic] you better

He falls asleep on the couch, his heart lighter in his chest.

Midnight is back at the office a little after noon, looking almost manic.

“I got some great shots. It’s going to be hell to edit, but I know I can do something good.”

“Don’t forget to sleep,” Joke shouts from behind her desk.

There’s a new pile of boxes on her desk that was delivered in the morning, and she’s counting them to check that nothing’s missing.

“What were you even filming?” Toshinori asks, and Shouta can’t deny that he’s also curious about it.

“Outside interview. For obvious reasons. It’s just a pain to have good audio quality.”

She doesn’t expand on it. She has more trust in their ability to follow what happens than she should.

“Like what kind of reason? For example?”

“I mean the fan interruptions. I like this type of format, you get those kids casually walking in-frame and then they notice who’s there and there’s a sort of spontaneous chaos that’s always adorable. I got the number of everyone’s parents, I’ll contact them in the afternoon to sign the papers for image rights. I can be pretty convincing.”

Shouta blinks.

“What were the odds of people randomly recognizing him during an interview? Did you hire them?”

“Well, the guy is famous. And even more so around here since it’s his hometown.”

“But still, what are the chances? Doesn’t he have like a few hundred followers?”

Joke barks a laugh.

“Shouta, you’re hopeless. We told you about it. He’s like a tiktok celebrity.”

“No yeah I got that,” Shouta answers a bit defensively, “but ‘recognized-in-the-streets’ famous?”

“Jeez. Haven’t you noticed how much of a snob he is? And why do you think we’re spending so much energy for the guy? Or that Nedzu got on board so fast?”

“Because we have nothing better right now?”

Joke sighs very loudly.

“How could he be getting us hundreds of followers if he himself doesn’t have more?”

Shouta shrugs. It’s not as if he pays much attention to that - but something occurs to him and he turns to Midnight, puzzled. 

“I don’t get it. If he’s such an important guy then why did you let me do that interview when he came? I could’ve ruined it.”

Midnight purses her lips and glances at Tensei, as if Shouta couldn’t see it. Tensei grimaces.

“You’re not going to like it,” he says, “but it was a gamble.”

“Yeah, I know, questions from an amateur and all.”

“No, not this. We knew you were his type of man.”

Shouta stares.

“What?”

“Physically. He has a type and you fit it. We can show you pictures of his exes if you don’t believe me.”

Shouta can’t think of anything more appalling than looking at Present Mic’s exes’ pictures so he simply shakes his head, bewildered.

“What kind of fucked up idea is that?”

Tensei holds his hands up.

“We didn’t think it would be such a big deal for you. I swear I thought you wouldn’t care at all, since you never go on social media anyway. And we didn’t expect it to work so well.”

Shouta runs a hand down his face.

“I can’t believe it. What am I, a worm on a hook?”

“You’re half the reason why the company is going to do incredible this month,” Midnight says. “When all of that is over, I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

She says that as if she’s the actual boss of the company and not Shouta’s coworker, but if that earns him free food or something he’s willing to overlook it.

And he really would be more upset if Present Mic hadn’t been lifting his mood no later than last night. And if he didn’t like the sound of his voice that much.

“You better,” he groans. “I’m supposed to do the insider thing now, right?”

“Absolutely. Don’t forget to hold the camera upright. I told him you could join him later if he wanted a break, but he said you could come to his place right now. I’ll forward you his home address. I don’t need to tell you that but of course there’s a breach of contract if you give this address to anyone, and a fee higher than you can pay.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He grabs his bag, the camera satchel, and he exits the building.

[Shouta] I’m on the way to your place.

[Work_Present Mic] splendid, ring the intercom when you’re at the door

The building where Present Mic lives is way more luxurious than anywhere Shouta could hope to afford in his lifetime. He squints at the names on the intercom, reading them all twice.

[Shouta] Under what name is your flat?

[Work_Present Mic] under my name??

[Shouta] Ah oops.

[Shouta] I was looking for Present Mic.

[Shouta] What’s your name again?

[Work_Present Mic] ???????

[Work_Present Mic] are you kidding????

[Shouta] If you don’t answer I’m going home.

[Shouta] I’ll tell Midnight you were too much of a diva to let me in.

[Work_Present Mic] hizashi yamada

[Work_Present Mic] you’re unbelievable

[Shouta] Ah yes Hizashi I forgot.

Shouta looks for the name and now he finds it, and he presses the button before he has the time to second-guess it.

There’s a beep.

“It’s open,” Present Mic says through the intercom. His voice is full of static. “Second floor, door to the right.”

“Okay,” Shouta answers softly.

He pushes the glass door. The floor inside is shiny, and it squeaks under his shoes.

He chooses the stairs, and he feels like every new step he takes speeds up his heartbeat by half.

When he gets to the second floor, he’s slightly dizzy.

The door at the right of the elevator is opened a crack.

Shouta knocks.

“Well come in, it’s open.”

The first thing that hits him is how luminous the room is. Half the wall facing the street is actually a large bay window, and there’s barely any high furniture to block the sun coming through. It’s a flat made of one main room: the bed, the kitchen and the living room are only separated by a pearl curtain and a bookcase full of holes.

Present Mic is at the sink, pouring water in a glass. He wears a soft-looking green jacket.

“I’m taking water,” he says without turning around, “what do you want?”

“What do you have?”

“Most drinkable things you can think of. Minus blood of a virgin because I ran out.”

Shouta snorts.

“Too bad. Apple juice then, if you got some.”

“Are you implying that I could not have apple juice? How demeaning!”

He rummages a bit through the fridge. The last time Shouta saw a fridge that big he was working in a fast food. It even has the hole on the outer door for cold water. When Present Mic turns around, bottle in hand, his smile is wide. He looks like he’s on a TV set.

“It’s organic juice, I think. In a glass bottle. They don’t let you buy anything else in this neighborhood.”

“Seems upscale, yeah.”

“You don’t know just how much. But the flat is pretty cool.”

Shouta would’ve used words more along the line of “stylish” or “ fancy” than “pretty cool”, but he nods.

“I thought there would be more issues with the bay window, like overheating in the summer or heat loss in the winter, but it’s triple glazing and it’s very well insulated.”

Shouta’s radiator is ancient, and if he gets too close to his window at night he can feel the cold air seepping through.

“Alright.”

Present Mic hands him the glass of juice and smiles again – he must be flossing a lot, for his teeth to be so white.

“I asked the neighbors about it before moving in, actually. On this floor there’s a very nice couple, in their mid-fifties. They gave me some wine as an arrival gift.”

“That’s nice of them.”

The last time I saw my neighbor she was vomiting in the stairwell , he doesn’t add. It still stinks.

It’s not as if Shouta really cares about this sort of thing. He supposes he could find someplace nicer if he didn’t mind living further away from the town center. But right here, right now, he feels out of place.

“Yeah. The wife has a pretty high position in the fashion industry so we’ve been thinking of making something together at some point. Like a sponsorship or something, you know?”

“Oh, alright.”

Then, because he feels like he’s not participating enough in the discussion, he adds a “that’s cool” that echoes even more awkwardly in the room.

“I’m sorry,” Present Mic says abruptly. He puts down his glass of water on the counter with a thud. “I’m rambling. I swear I’m not like that usually.”

His smile wavers, and suddenly he looks a lot more approachable. Shouta relaxes.

“I know,” he answers with a small smile.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“We can sit on the sofa if you want.”

The sofa is made of cream square, flat cushions, put together in a L shape. It looks more expensive than Shouta’s, but it sure is way less comfortable.

He slowly sips his juice, looking at the street through the bay window. Midnight could probably make splendid shots out of that window. She would gauge the impact of the lightning, and the best way to make a composition, and whatever. Shouta can’t do that, and he’s probably about to mess up the whole mission. At least he’s gotten an overpriced juice glass out of it.

“Are you really that famous?” he asks quietly.

Present Mic looks up, visibly surprised. He’s sitting cross legged on the other edge of the L shape.

“What do you mean?”

“You actually get recognized in the street?”

“I suppose, yeah, because my fans know that I live in this city. Sometimes people come to me, sometimes they take pictures from across the road. They’re usually friendly, so it’s not bothersome or anything.”

“Damn. You’re a regular pop star.”

Shouta grimaces, internally debating, before he admits:

“Until an hour ago I thought you had like 300 subscribers.”

Present Mic laughs, but it sounds more like fondness than actual mirth. He’s looking at Shouta like he’s something precious.

“And here I thought you were after me for my fame.”

Shouta chokes on the last of his drink, and it’s funny until he can’t stop coughing and he genuinely thinks that he’s about to die. Present Mic jumps and slaps him on the back until he’s able to breathe again.

“God. You alright?”

Shouta half sputters something, putting down his drink on the end table and feeling overall very betrayed by organic apple juice as a concept.

“So how many followers do you actually have?”

Present Mic shrugs. He’s moved closer to help him with the cough, and he hasn’t gone back to the other end of the couch. Shouta can feel the cushion sink towards where he is seated.

“Depends on which social network we’re talking about. I mean I’m more on tiktok, but you got to share updates on twitter or instagram or a fan account will take your place anyway.”

“Of course,” Shouta agrees to humor him. “So how many on tiktok?”

“How many would you say?”

“I have no idea what’s little and what’s a lot on tiktok. I don’t even know how many my company got.”

“About three thousand now,” Present Mic answers without missing a beat.

“Damn.” Shouta feels unreasonably proud, although he couldn’t rightfully claim that he has any credit in that. “It’s a lot.”

Present Mic shakes his head - a strand of blond hair dangles from his bun. He’s smiling.

“I can’t believe we’re the same age.”

Shouta refuses to give him the satisfaction to ask what that means.

“How am I guessing? Can I give you a range or should I go for an insanely precise number?”

“A range will probably spare us some time.”

Present Mic puts his elbow on the backrest of the couch, sitting sideways to look at Shouta.

“Uh. I suppose something between three thousand and, say… the number of people living in this city.”

Present Mic groans.

“Widest range I’ve ever seen. It’s not very fair.”

Shouta spreads his arms.

“There’s nothing like unfairness in a game with no law.”

“This is a villain quote.”

“You have to tell me the real number now. Since it’s in my range.”

Present Mic lazily stretches against the backrest, looking at the ceiling. He smirks.

“How many people live in this town again?”

“About a million,” Shouta answers drily. “You’re not winning that one.”

Present Mic makes a show of taking out his phone, unlocking it and checking it.

“Hm, you’re right. Not quite.”

Shouta stares at him.

“You’re joking?”

Present Mic turns his phone screen towards him.

It’s the first time Shouta sees his tiktok profile. Present Mic looks a bit haughty on the profile picture, eyes half covered by positively hideous orange-tinted glasses. At the bottom part of the screen, bright colored rectangles show him in a few different contexts – in one he is outside, near the docks, looking like he was cut in the middle of the sentence. In another he is standing in this very room, back to the bay window, making a sort of wave.

The number of followers under the profile picture is unmistakable. It goes beyond 900k.

Shouta gapes.

“Jesus. How come?”

Present Mic sounds smug.

“Apparently, people like to watch me talk.”

“No kidding,” he breathes. “What the hell.”

He looks back at Present Mic, dumbfounded.

“How do you even bring together that many people?”

“Talent, mostly.”

He seems way too pleased with himself. Shouta looks around, taking in the expensive furniture again and the spotless floor. Flying specks of dust sparkle in the sun.

“Would you ever give me a lock of your hair?” he asks.

Present Mic seems baffled. It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure, but when he does he leans a bit closer.

“What, so you don’t miss me too much when you go back home?”

His voice is lower. His flirting is way more dangerous when it’s said in this voice, with their knees almost touching. Shouta’s grin is weaker than he would’ve liked.

“Because I could make crazy money in an auction.”

Present Mic narrows his eyes at him. Then, he recoils on the couch.

“Anyone who doesn’t know my name isn’t worthy of selling my hair.”

Shouta snickers.

“Is it an official rule in your contract? Appendix B, ‘hair’ section?”

“Seriously, how could you not know?”

“What, I should’ve learned your Wikipedia page?”

Then, it hits him:

“You actually have a Wikipedia page, don’t you?”

Present Mic looks infuriated.

“This has nothing to do with that!”

He unlocks his phone again, taps on it and shoves it under Shouta’s face.

Shouta Aizawa , the contact page says soberly. There’s a black and white picture of him here, the one that Tensei uploaded on the company website. On it, Shouta is staring at the camera with a bland look. He remembers Midnight taking it with her phone.

“You even downloaded a picture,” he gasps.

“Of course I did! We’ve been talking! What am I even called on your phone?”

Shouta actually feels a little sheepish.

“Work Present Mic? Because I met you at work and it’s your name?”

Present Mic is taking it way too dramatically, in his opinion. Shouta wouldn’t have cared if he were “That Reporter From Monday 22nd” on the guy’s phone. Maybe it’s an ego thing.

“My name is Hizashi,” Present Mic stresses out.

“That’s not what it says on tiktok,” Shouta shoots back, just for the sake of being difficult.

“Please call me Hizashi.”

It sounds like a cheap romcom line, like it should be said by some hot actor hitting on a waitress in a bar. Shouta raises his hands up in mock surrender.

“Sure. If you want.”

Hizashi leans back on the couch, looking satisfied.

“Great. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Shouta’s eyes fall on the satchel holding Midnight’s camera.

“So how is this supposed to go? Should I just turn on the camera and follow you around?”

Hizashi grimaces.

“No idea. I never did this either.”

Shouta hums and unzips the satchel, checking the amount of battery left after Midnight’s morning shooting. That much he can do. Knowing her she probably already replaced the SD card with an empty one, to be able to start working on her files in the afternoon.

“Isn’t it the kind of thing that your fans expect? Seeing where you live?”

“Oh, I’ve taken videos of course. They’ve already seen around here plenty of times. But I never had someone else doing it for me.”

Shouta removes the camera lens cap, looking closely at the lens. There are specks of dust here. He starts wiping it off with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Well I’ve never done it for someone else, so we’re at the same level here.”

Hizashi reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling it away from the camera. His fingers are warm through the fabric. Solid. 

“Don’t ever touch the lens with wool, do you want to scratch it? There are wipes somewhere in the bag, your coworker used them this morning.”

Shouta looks at Hizashi’s hand with a flat look.

“Okay nevermind we’re not at the same level.”

“I can’t believe that I’m being filmed by someone who thinks cleaning a lens with their sleeve is a good idea.”

“If you want to shoot that yourself, be my guest. I won’t say no to having my afternoon off.”

Hizashi grins like a child.

“You’ll start texting me before you’re even home, though.”

He innocently shrugs under Shouta’s glare.

“Am I wrong?”

Shouta sighs, gets up, and downs the end of his discarded juice. The taste is way too rich, like they diluted applesauce with water.

“I suppose not. Let’s get to it.”

Hizashi simply looks up at him, not moving one bit.

Shouta puts the camera in front of his face, trying to hold it steady. He slowly moves to the side so that the couch isn’t entirely backlit. The amount of light coming from that window is making things worse than he thought.

“Get up or I’ll start recording now.”

Hizashi settles more comfortably on the couch, his elbows on the backrest on each side of him. He looks unimpressed.

“Are you seriously threatening to film me? This is how I earn my living. This is why you’re here in the first place. Go for it.”

“Don’t say you didn’t ask for it,” grumbles Shouta as he presses the recording button.

The red dot appears at the corner of the screen, and Hizashi sends him a lazy smile through the lens.

“Are you filming from this side? This will look awful at this time of the day. You have to put your back to the window.”

Shouta suspects that this bit will definitely not make the cut in Midnight’s final edit, so he holds the camera loosely as he skirts the couch. Then he places himself on the other side, the window behind him, and he straightens his hold on the camera.

“Alright, I think I’m good.”

Hizashi’s posture shifts slightly. He wasn’t coy before but he seems even more confident now, his smile more effortlessly charming. Shouta wonders if it’s consciously staged, or if Hizashi just likes being filmed that much. He waves at the camera.

“Hi everyone. Today I’m trying out something new for you all, I hope you’re gonna like it. My friend Shouta here will be filming a bit of my routine for all of you to see, and I trust you to tell me what you think about it in the comments.”

It’s so weird, him pretending there’s any interaction even though it’s only going on Shouta’s SD card and they’re not even certain that Midnight will keep it in the final edit.

“So Shouta, what do you say? Where do we start?”

Hizashi is looking directly through the camera and, when it becomes clear that he’s waiting for an answer, Shouta lowers the camera abruptly. He knows Midnight will be able to make the cuts where she wants anyway.

“What are you doing?” he hisses. “Don’t ask me things, I’m the cameraman.”

Hizashi stares, bewildered, before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god, Shouta.”

He’s taken by a new fit of laughter, putting his face in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s just… man, you’ve really never done anything of the kind. Make something up and I’ll roll with it, and if it’s stupid I’ll make a joke, I can handle about anything. You can’t just lower the camera and scold me.”

“Give me a warning before doing things like that!”

“What, talk?”

Shouta glowers and Hizashi seems a bit taken aback. Then, his face softens.

“I’m sorry. See? I’m bad with people like you. Let’s choose together now, okay? We can do some community management on my phone here, or go to the computer to edit something, or to the recording room and cover a song. Up to you.”

That makes Shouta pause.

“You have a recording room?”

“Sure! That's why my bed is here. Streams are alright with a headset and noise suppression, but I couldn’t record anything serious in a room that big. There’s so much quality loss. So I converted the bedroom into a recording studio.”

Shota nods thoughtfully.

“Oh, yeah. I remember how much of a snob you were about recording that interview at the back of our office.”

Hizashi jumps to his feet.

“What? There’s nothing snobbish about asking for a minimum of quality, I’m a professional. I have standards, I can’t be expected to accept anything less.”

He walks to a door near the kitchen counter and Shouta follows, the camera still dangling from his hand.

“That’s a very snobbish answer.”

Hizashi glares at him over his shoulder, then opens the door.

There’s no window here, and the light coming from the ceiling is pinkish. There’s a microphone on one side of the room, in front of a spotlight turned off and a camera pedestal. On the other side of the room there’s a monitor, an electric guitar, a piano keyboard and a few other music instruments, including some that Shouta couldn’t name.

“It looks nice,” he comments.

“I’m aware. You should probably start filming at some point, by the way, or you’re not going to have any footage by the end of the day.”

Shouta diligently raises the camera back up. He didn’t even think of pausing the recording so the battery must be depleting fast. 

Hizashi looks excited, tapping his fingers on his chest in some sort of rhythm. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by having a big camera manifesting itself in front of his face.

“I’m glad I get to show you myself singing this way,” he says suddenly. “I’m usually the one holding the camera, but I think it feels more personal if you can imagine yourself being here with me too.”

“It doesn’t take much imagination when I’m literally present,” Shouta retorts.

Hizashi pauses then slowly blinks, his lips twitching.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Shouta.”

Shouta turns around sharply, but there’s no one at the door. When he turns back to Hizashi, confused, Hizashi is pinching his nose, looking at Shouta with a badly suppressed smile.

“You’re holding a camera,” he states.

“Oh,” Shouta understands. “The gang, right? Sorry.”

Hizashi shakes his head good naturedly.

“No problem. But be careful not to turn too fast when you’re recording, it gives viewers whiplash.”

Shouta shrugs his shoulders slightly, noticing how even a movement that small makes the camera shake.

“Sure. But there’s no way that Midnight will keep this part either anyway.”

“Let’s try to give Midnight something that she will actually keep, alright?”

Shouta wedges himself against the wall, using it to keep the camera still.

“I think I have a good angle here. You can resume doing your things when you’re ready.”

“My things,” Hizashi mutters. “He’s unbelievable.”

“I can hear you.”

Hizashi shoots him a bright, unapologetic smile, and turns on a button on the side of the microphone.

“Great news for the sound recording! Tell me, what should I sing?”

Shouta assumes that he’s talking to him this time, because he’d have trouble getting live suggestions from a camera.

“Your favorite song?” he ventures.

But Hizashi’s ego has lowered enough around Shouta that he actually gets it, this time. He stares at him in an uncomfortable, suspicious way.

“What about you? What’s your favorite song of mine?”

Shouta grimaces.

Then Hizashi’s glare shifts into a bright smile and this time, Shouta realizes that he’s about to address the people on the other side of the camera.

“It’s been a week since Shouta interviewed me and he thought I had 300 followers until today, can you believe it? And I’m starting to suspect that he never heard me sing. I really should’ve picked any of you guys instead to come to my place, right?”

“Right,” Shouta agrees under his breath, perhaps a bit sourly.

Then Hizashi goes to the monitor and lights up the screen, Shouta awkwardly rotating on his feet to keep him in his (the camera’s) line of sight. Hizashi scrolls through a list on the touch screen, glancing at the camera (or at Shouta?) before clicking on something.

An upbeat, pop melody seems to seep through the walls and even Shouta, who’s never been interested in this kind of details, has to admit that the acoustic is good. Hizashi grabs the microphone, looks straight at the camera, and starts singing a catchy tune that Shouta’s never heard before. Maybe a Present Mic Original Song - but, given how little Shouta knows about pop music, it could just as well be the brand-new song of a world-famous artist that he simply doesn’t recognize.

The lyrics are fast and the accompanying music is loud but, from what Shouta gathers, this is a song about enjoying summer holidays. It sounds nothing like the songs Shouta usually listens to and he knows that, if he heard it on the radio sung by anyone else, he would change frequency.

But this is Hizashi. He has a beautiful voice, a vibrant energy, and just the right amount of confidence it takes to sing a whole song by yourself in front of a camera, especially when the camera itself is being held by someone you know.

When the song ends, his hair is mussed and his forehead is sweaty.

“Let’s just take a break from the camera for a bit,” Hizashi croaks, “I need a minute. Too many lyrics in that one, but what can you say? It’s a fan favorite.”

Shouta stops the recording, feeling pain spread in his shoulders and arms. He’s not sure he even moved a muscle in two whole minutes, back against the wall and camera raised to the eye.

“That’s fine by me,” he grunts. “Let’s call it a day, we worked enough.”

It makes Hizashi laugh, so Shouta counts it as a win.

“You never actually heard me sing before?” Hizashi asks as he opens the door for Shouta.

“No,” he admits, blinking at the sun.

He goes to put his camera down in its satchel, on the couch, and Hizashi falls into step next to him.

“What did you think?”

Hizashi has a wide smile, like someone already aware of his talent who’s been able to show off. He clearly doesn’t need a new compliment to feed his ego and Shouta thinks of answering with a quip, of evading the question, but…

It’s a sincere emotion and it makes Hizashi look younger, more carefree. Like a dropout touring the student festivals to get a chance to sing on stage, or like an excited kid at the end of the school play. So, Shouta grins back:

“I liked it. But I knew I would, you have a nice voice.”

Hizashi’s smile grows wider and he swings an arm around Shouta’s shoulder, bringing them closer.

“Thanks, Shouta.”

Shouta can feel the warmth of Hizashi’s breath on his cheek and he doesn’t try to pull away.

It’s not as if anyone is filming right now anyway.

When he gets home in the late afternoon, he debates a bit more than is really necessary on whether to rename ‘Work_Present Mic’ on his phone. In all fairness, he’s grown attached to the name. But it was before Present Mic asked him to call him Hizashi and before he spent an afternoon in his flat, about three feet apart and a camera in his hand.

Filming the song was nice. Shouta would make sure that he got the recording somehow to play it back later.

Filming the moderation of hate comments was pretty funny, because Hizashi wasn’t taking it seriously. He made ridiculous jokes in such a calculated, dramatic way that Shouta was pretty convinced he also did that when he was alone.

Filming the video editing was boring – even if Hizashi kept talking it was directed towards the general audience this time, who could be interested in the type of overlays or background sfx that he used, and Shouta would simply focus on keeping the camera steady and listening to Hizashi’s voice.

Left to his own device, the man could talk a lot by himself.

With a sigh, Shouta erases ‘Work_Present Mic’ and types in ‘Hizashi’ instead.

Chapter Text

“Your filming is terrible,” Midnight comments as they get to work on Wednesday.

Which means that she probably spent a good part of her night looking at his extra lengthy footages and taking notes – yet she looks as pumped up as ever. She raises a finger to Shouta’s face before he’s able to apologize:

“But I should be able to do something about it. If I’m efficient today, we’ll have our batch of videos by tomorrow morning. As we said before if you’re not comfortable with being on film then fair enough, as long as you’re interacting with him. People are here to see Present Mic anyway, not for your terrible unshaven face.”

“ My terrible unshaven face?” Shouta repeats disbelievingly. “Have you seen the guy’s mustache?”

“I have and I’m standing my ground. That should tell you how much you need to shave.”

“I kinda like the mustache,” Joke interjects from somewhere behind a pile of purple little plastic boxes on her desk. She hasn’t said what they’re here for (not that Shouta asked) but he’s pretty sure that they’ll find out eventually. And if he’s not mistaken, one of his secret flashcard missions involves helping with merchandising.

Which reminds him…

[Shouta] I’m making a quiz today.

A smiling emote pops up not too long after in his notifications.

[Hizashi] sweet!

It’s mighty weird to see ‘Hizashi’ now on his screen and Shouta almost thinks of changing back before he stops himself. He’s supposed to work on accepting changes, if he doesn’t want to get miserable every time. And, truth be told, that ‘Hizashi’ guy reacts an awful lot like ‘Work_Present Mic’.

[Shouta] It’s a quiz about you.

[Hizashi] damn, sweeter

[Hizashi] do you need HQ pictures or something?

[Hizashi] the resolution can be pretty terrible on google

Shouta feels his lips quirk up.

[Shouta] Ah yes, I forgot we got standards in this house.

[Hizashi] wouldn’t want those quiz-takers to get hot and bothered over grainy pics

Shouta snorts. He would hardly qualify any photo on Google nowadays as “grainy”. He would, however, certainly qualify tiktoker Present Mic as overly dramatic.

[Shouta] I don’t even know what specific theme I should go with.

[Hizashi] you’re supposed to choose the themes yourself?

[Shouta] There has to be a reason why I’m getting paid and it’s not qualitative video shooting.

[Hizashi] I figured it out yesterday dw

Shouta can’t feel legitimately upset about this, given how right Hizashi is. A few steps beyond his computer he can see Midnight sitting very straight on her chair, earphones plugged in her ears. On the corner of her left monitor, Shouta can see a creamy part of Hizashi’s couch. Yesterday, he shot a little under two hours of video. The process of pruning at least 90% of it must be exhausting - and he shudders at the thought of being forced to rewatch their whole interaction like she’s doing, of listening in a loop to some quips that seemed funny in the moment but probably just sound annoying after the third time. He's glad he’s not the one editing the videos.

Which reminds him of his actual job.

He opens a fresh page in his notepad, even if there was barely half a doodle in the previous one. It’s important to set the right mindset. Then he clicks his pencil open, firmly set on writing down something good.

His phone buzzes, and he checks it immediately (of course he does).

[Hizashi] can you do this from home or do you have to be in the office?

That’s a random inquiry. Hizashi must be in the mood for a casual chat, and Shouta knows he won’t be able to indulge this morning: the quiz must be uploaded as a direct follow-up of the video, so it has to be ready by tomorrow afternoon. He’s not very worried about his capacity to wrap that up in a day, especially since Tensei commissioned “something short and quirky - we’ll probably do a longer one when everyone’s acquainted with the man, at the end of the campaign”. But he can’t afford a full-on blabbering day either.

[Shouta] I just have to make up questions and I do that on my notepad so I could work from home in theory but the boss doesn’t like it.

[Shouta] Also I’m going to put my phone in plane mode or I’ll never focus.

The message seems a bit dry in itself so he adds a smiling emote after that, one of Hizashi’s. He never thought he’d be the kind to send text emotes unironically.

He’s about to turn off his notifications when a new message pops up, followed in quick succession by three others.

[Hizashi] wanna work from my place?

[Hizashi] I mean since you don’t have to be in the office

[Hizashi] it makes sense, right? You’re writing about me so I could help you

[Hizashi] I can tell you my favorite brand of bottled milk or things like that

That is, to say the least, unexpected. It makes sense to be in touch with Hizashi while he makes the quiz but there’s nothing that couldn’t as well be said by text, and somehow Shouta feels like he’s being invited to a sleepover.

[Shouta] A brand? I would’ve expected people from your neighborhood to drink milk straight out of a local-bred cow.

[Hizashi] see? you clearly know me too little about me to make a quiz

[Hizashi] are you coming?

Shouta sighs.

[Shouta] I’ll be more productive here, but thanks for the offer.

[Hizashi] damn

[Hizashi] then I’ll ask all those millions of hot journalists fighting for my time

[Shouta] You do that.

He puts his phone down, stealthily checking that Midnight hasn’t seen him texting instead of actually working – but Midnight is looking at her computer screen so intensely that he could probably start hula-hooping on his chair and she wouldn’t notice.

Shouta scribbles “Present Mic” at the top of the page, then he taps his pen on the notepad a few times.

He needs something simple. If he tries to make anything too serious, with actual puns related to Present Mic’s songs names or fanbase’s inner jokes, a lot of their usual audience will simply drop the quiz (it’s also a lot of research that he isn’t very eager to engage in).

So he’ll just do like he’s always done.

•       What’s the name of this crowd-favorite hot stuff?

1. Present Bob
2. Present Mic
3. Helicopter Toaster 2000+
4. Future Mic

[one image needed: a shiny, colored toaster with a tiny propeller on the side or something. Maybe with smoke to show heat.]

•       What type of facial hairstyle would fit mildly-famous tiktoker ‘Present Mic’ best?*

(*this isn’t a question about what type of facial hairstyle he has. It would actually be the less credible answer, even taking the neckbeard proposition into account)

[four images needed: one of Present Mic’s actual face, and three photoshopped ridiculous facial hairstyles. None fit him, including the non-photoshopped one. Ask Tensei for photoshop.]

•       Which of those crazy anecdotes isn’t true?

1. Present Mic decided to have a music room instead of a bedroom in his flat. It’s unsure where he sleeps, admitting that he sleeps at all.
2. Present Mic takes regular loans because his income doesn’t make up for the price of his hair product.
3. Prese

His phone buzzes and Shouta jumps, his pen piercing the paper.

[Hizashi] I’m buying groceries rn

[Hizashi] want me to buy you some cheap, water-tasting, probably apple-free, apple juice?

[Hizashi] you didn’t look like you liked the megachad organic one very much

Shouta smiles.

Then he rereads the messages, just for the sake of it, and he smiles again.

So that’s it , he realizes.

I love him.

Chapter Text

[Shouta] I finished writing the quiz, I’m about to send it to Tensei. Do you want to see it first?

[Hizashi] Im editing rn.. it better be good

[Shouta] It is a masterpiece.

[Hizashi] I have 200+ masterpieces on tiktok that you haven’t bothered to check

[Shouta] I thought you’d be interested since it’s a quiz about you.

[Hizashi] would you check my videos if I talked about you?

[Shouta] What would you even say?

[Hizashi] I’d ask the gang for emotional support

[Hizashi] I feel like I’m not being appreciated enough here

[Shouta] God. I don’t need to hear you complain any more than I already do.

[Hizashi] see? this is precisely what I’m talking about

Shouta sends a normal, smiling emote. He decided that he quite likes their particular passive-aggressive vibe. Somehow, becoming aware that he has a crush on Hizashi hasn’t changed the way he needs to make fun of him.

[Hizashi] send the quiz

[Hizashi] before your relentless attacks make me drown in self-doubt

There’s no email address attached to the message and Shouta’s not about to go declaim it on Hizashi’s stairway landing, even if he’s sure that the guy wouldn’t mind, so he settles with snapping pictures of the notebook. Then, because he can’t send the quiz to Tensei now anyway, he goes to see what Midnight is up to.

There’s a A3-sized graph paper on her desk that wasn’t there this morning. It’s covered in hundreds of tiny blue words, black numbers, and colorful arrows that convinces Shouta that she hasn’t been idly browsing Present Mic’s tiktok profile for a solid thirty minutes after lunch.

In his defense, it’s not as if he clicked on any of the videos. He doesn’t know if Hizashi will get a notification for it, and he can’t risk that. But it felt nice, seeing his smile on the bright rectangles. Even in still images the guy has this contagious cheerfulness, this positive aura.

“What is it,” Midnight asks.

She’s in the middle of circling a word twice, and Shouta realizes that he’s been just standing there.

“How’s the editing going?”

She takes a different marker to link her circle to another one, on the other side of the sheet, before looking up at him.

“I’m almost done.”

He glances at her screen. The editing software is open, and very empty.

“Almost done with not working?”

She shakes her head like he’s stupid, which is a bit unfair. There’s definitely nothing in the video track.

“Planning is what takes the most time. Editing is quick if you know what goes where, and I have the time stamps already. Didn’t Present Mic tell you that in his editing 101 course?”

“You know he didn’t,” Shouta argues, gesturing at her A3 paper. “You know what he told me better than I do.”

“There are some cuts in the footage, you didn’t film everything.”

“Oh, yeah. No, it’s because he was editing something for the anniversary of his channel or something. He didn’t want me to film it. But he didn’t do what you’re doing when he was editing.”

Shouta doesn’t know if it means that Hizashi is bad for not knowing about Midnight’s editing strategies, or if he’s great for not needing it. Given his popularity, he must know what he’s doing.

Midnight sighs, tapping her pen on the temple of her glasses. She looks like a teacher. She’d probably make a good teacher, actually. Shouta can totally imagine her looking sternly at dissipated teenagers until they fall into silence.

But that might be because he’s seen her doing it to Joke before.

“If he does vlog-like videos, he mostly needs to do a bit of trimming to keep the video dynamic. It’s only a matter of pacing. He’s probably not dealing with one hour and fifty-seven minute video clips of uneven relevance and quality.”

Shouta grimaces.

“Sorry about that, you know it’s not my thing. We all know you should’ve sent someone else instead.”

Midnight softens, which doesn’t make her look less like a teacher. She would probably have the same expression if a student told her that they couldn’t do their homework because a tsunami turned their house into a fishbowl.

(Or maybe her reaction would’ve been stronger than slightly sympathetic.

It’s not a very good analogy.)

“You were the right person for this, and you still are. I had no doubts your shooting would be terrible, if that makes you feel better.”

“It makes me feel worse.”

“Then forget I said that. But the shooting quality isn’t the most important thing. Because I can salvage about anything, as long as you don’t forget to remove the lens cap of the camera. But if you had left me in Present Mic’s flat for an afternoon, we would’ve gotten terrible footage.”

Shouta shakes his head disbelievingly.

“You would’ve gotten incredible, perfectly framed images. His flat is the cameraman's aesthetic dream, have you seen this window? It would’ve been the prettiest video on our channel.”

“It would’ve been two hours of well-framed, well-lit boring chat. It would’ve been excruciating to listen to. Last night, reviewing your footage, it made me feel like a friend being invited over. And Present Mic was so at ease that, when he was talking to the camera, I could almost believe that he was looking at me.”

When they first met each other, Shouta deemed Midnight a highly conceited person. They would be having a casual conversation and then she would just say things like “I can make high quality content with anything” or “I’m unquestionably the public face of the company” with a straight face. Shouta, who didn’t have much of an ego, didn’t care about it, but Joke once called her on it and Midnight had seemed baffled. She said that she wasn’t being conceited for stating the truth, much like Hizashi said he wasn’t being a snob for wanting quality, so it didn’t convince anyone back then.

But over time, Shouta had started to realize that Midnight really wasn’t full of herself. She was simply seeing her assets as they were, not higher or lower, and the fact was that she had a lot of assets.

Which made it even stranger for her to say such a thing now.

“Present Mic is always at ease,” he points out. “And you can conduct great interviews with anyone, they all love you. You two would’ve been great together.”

“We would’ve been able to make a nice-looking, standard interview full of scripted quips. Something you watch and forget. But you’re more chill than me, you’re way better at coming up with jokes on the spot, and he’s taken a liking to you. So you were definitely the right person for this.”

That leaves Shouta at a loss for words. Midnight, unimpressed with his gaping, uncaps a new marker and starts to number the arrows on her sheet.

“Thanks,” he manages. “I’m not used to you complimenting me.”

Or anyone, for that matter. Midnight is usually an uncompassionate perfectionist.

“Don’t let it get to your head. Chill can mean lazy and too many jokes can be annoying. You simply found your right audience with Present Mic. Now let me work.”

That makes her sound like herself again, and it puts him more at ease. He retreats towards his desk feeling unexpectedly happy.

His phone is waiting for him there, and with it a few new texts.

[Hizashi] I hadn’t seen a quiz since middle school; I didn’t remember they were so unhinged

[Hizashi] helicopter toaster sounds rad

[Hizashi] but also whats your deal with my moustache??

[Shouta] Can I speak freely or do you have people waiting outside my office with machetes?

[Hizashi] … :(

Shouta pauses.

[Shouta] You’re aware that I’m joking, yes?

Not that he likes the moustache, but he’s not actively trying to crush Hizashi’s ego. He assumed that a handsome man with countless fans wouldn’t get self-conscious from one guy joking about his facial hair.

[Hizashi] :(

[Shouta] ?

[Hizashi] :((

[Shouta] ??

[Hizashi] :(((

[Shouta] You are 7 years old.

[Hizashi] would you be so mean to a 7 years old?

He doesn’t sound genuinely upset, which is a relief.

[Shouta] Fortunately, 7 years old don’t grow moustaches.

That earns him a laughing emote.

[Hizashi] alright you win

[Shouta] Then do you approve of the quiz?

[Hizashi] I suppose so

[Hizashi] you’ll know that I changed my mind when you get a libel complaint

Shouta has half a mind to tell Hizashi he’ll throw eggs on his expensive window, but he settles for another passive-aggressive smiling emote. He’s really starting to warm up to them. Then, he sends the text file of the quiz on the company’s Teams group chat. It’s a bit after 3 pm, but since he’s pretty much done with his tasks and it’s an unusual week, no one would mind him going home early.

“Oh Shouta! You’re finished then?”

He turns around. The smile on Joke’s face is one he is very familiar with, though he wishes he weren’t.

Here’s one thing about life: the vast majority of people are pleasant when they’re relaxed. Humans are social animals, wanting and needing to belong, and that’s why you’ll get along with most people you meet. Smiles and nice words will make you likeable by all on a superficial level – no one needs to know that you have a different opinion on abortion, that you have an arrest warrant in Jamaica, or that you think Death Note is a good anime. And, thus, no one can get offended. That’s why it’ll always be easier to make friends in a bar than in a polling station.

But the more time you spend with someone, the more you will see them in situations where they’re not so relaxed. Where they lose control. It will happen more or less quickly, but it will happen – that’s statistical. A moment when the veneer cracks, the curtain tears, the intricate structure topples over.

You’ll learn more about someone by watching them for 12 hours in a hospital waiting room, with their mother or their wife or their child between life and death, than in 12 years of a regular friendship.

That being said, you’re thankfully rarely spending 12 hours in a hospital waiting room prying into someone else’s distress, and life is hardly ever about those big things. But you get glimpses of it, when control gets snatched out of their hands. In the most mundane, common way, deadlines at work tend to produce that effect.

Truth be told, Shouta himself doesn’t care enough to get worked up about finishing a project a bit late, but he’s affected by surrounding pressure. It makes him fidget, mutter inarticulately, and withdraw from the others.

Toshinori… well, everyone knows that Toshinori is someone precious to have. He’ll deal with it perfectly, and he’ll help others. He’ll make you feel like the sidekick of a TV show’s perfect main character – Shouta knows it can be grating to some people, but he doesn’t mind it. Being a main character sounds like more trouble than it is worth.

Midnight doesn’t count. She’s at her most tense when she has no objective to speak of, no goal to work for, and she loves pressure like lemonade.

Tensei is the worst of them all. He accumulates tension like air in a balloon, getting more and more tense until he inevitably breaks down. He’s been working on it, though, and it’s indeed been a while since Shouta’s last seen him slam his notepad on his desk with a guttural growl.

As for Joke, she’s developed two main techniques. The first is to break down her tasks into millions of subtasks to trick her brain into thinking that she’s progressing faster. The second… the second is why Shouta dreads the smile she’s sending him right now.

“Say, you think you could help me then?”

The second is forced cooperation.

But Shouta really has no excuse to refuse. He’s contractually obliged to stay in the office until 5 pm.

“Gladly,” he grumbles.

“Hooray! Come over but please don’t bounce around so enthusiastically, you’ll break something. I’m making the thing you’re supposed to help me with.”

That gets his attention. He definitely forgot about that, but now that he thinks about it there was a “merchandise” bit in his James Bond cardboard note.

He walks towards her slowly enough that it could never, by anyone, be read as enthusiastic bounces, then he surveys skeptically her desk.

The purple plastic boxes from this morning are crammed on the desk, near a pile of colored images and a few of their office supplies. He squints at the images, then leans forward until his nose almost touches the plastic.

“That’s a picture of Present Mic,” he states.

“Yes. Thanks. I’m glad I took the right guy before printing his face fifty times.”

Shouta would bet half his income that Joke took the first available picture online. It’s a close-up of a smiling Present Mic, with his tacky glasses and a big glass of something orange raised to his face as if he’s making a toast.

“What am I supposed to do with that, a photo garland?”

“Of the same picture fifty times? I don’t think that’s what our innovation brand is supposed to be about.”

“Well no one could expect to be so disappointed.”

Joke snorts. She’s a tough audience, so it’s always gratifying to make her laugh.

“I spent a solid amount of time cutting them out of the A4 sheets and laminating them. All that’s left to do is gluing them on our little music players.”

“Our what now?”

She grabs a box and juggles it once before handing it to him. It’s a small, glossy box with soft angles. The purple plastic is somewhat transparent, showing two batteries and a few wires inside. There’s a slightly hollow rectangle shape on one of the sides, and Shouta figures that its dimensions are the same as the Present Mic’s pictures. On the top of the box is a tiny, notched wheel.

“Those boxes can play one audio track of up to 30 seconds,” Joke informs him. “When we’re done with gluing we’ll go to Present Mic, he’ll record a different message for each of the boxes, and we’ll make a giveaway of that. 50 boxes for a million fans. It’s going to resell like crazy online.”

Shouta fiddles with the notched wheel. The box emits a faint sound of static.

“Why don’t we sell it ourselves? We could do with the money.”

Joke snatches the box from him and puts it back on her desk.

“Because we have a non-monetary agreement with Present Mic, and because we do it for exposure. Our image will be way better if we give away rare fan merch for free instead of putting up an auction for the richest persons to eventually re-sell for an even higher price anyway.”

Shouta shrugs. Exposure isn’t what pays for fifty sound recorders, or for the shipping costs, or for the laminating machine for that matter, but he supposes that it’s a long-term strategy.

“If you say so. But if it’s going to become some sort of collector’s item, do we really have to use those lame pictures? We should reprint better ones.”

“Reprint better ones?”

Joke looks shocked enough that Shouta remembers the time it takes for the laminating machine to operate. It also occurs to him that, to get this quality of photo, she probably had to go all the way to the printer shop.

“I mean they’re not that great. The orange color clashes with the purple box, and it’s cropped weirdly. Like it’s not your fault, I get that you couldn’t have both the glass and the top of his head, but it looks weird.”

The look on Joke’s face makes him feel like he’s digging his own grave.

“Are you doing this just to spite me? Since when do you even pay attention to those things?”

“I’m just saying there are better pictures of him out there,” Shouta counters defensively.

But he realizes that she’s right. He never used to notice details like this.

“This one is perfectly fine. He’s identifiable, he’s smiling, and it’s not under license. They won’t care about the photo anyway, what matters is the unique recordings that go with it.”

“Oh, but that’s it! We should have unique photos to match, then. We can take fifty pictures with Present Mic, and we release them nowhere else.”

Joke taps her pair of scissors aggressively on the photo pile, almost hard enough to leave a mark on the top picture.

“Why are you having actual ideas all of the sudden? After I’ve printed everything?”

He never used to come up with ideas either. Maybe he’s never cared enough before.

“I can take care of it,” he offers. “I’m printing the pictures and laminating them. What are the recordings going to be about anyway? Songs?”

“Nah,” she answers. “Saying hi or sharing stories, we’re supposed to decide with him. But if you have other great ideas, please tell us before we record anything.”

“You good?”

“Fantastic.”

She’s absolutely sulking, but he decides that pretending not to notice is the gentlemanly thing to do.

“When does it have to be ready?”

“Friday night, because that’s when the internet is the most active. And we’ll choose the winners on Monday morning. Since Wednesday is almost over, we have Thursday and Friday. We were supposed to have two days for the recordings but apparently you want to redo the whole photo business and we need Present Mic for that too.”

Shouta nods sympathetically, as if it was a troublesome issue entirely out of his control.

“We have fifty messages of half a minute to record, and fifty photos to take. We don’t even need him for a full hour.”

“Except that it’s never like that. There will be talks, and re-recordings, and to get fifty good photos we have to take at least a hundred of them. Also I need a selfie with him.”

Shouta can’t help his disbelieving smile.

“A selfie with him?”

“You can’t be the only one to have them.”

“I don’t have any selfies with him.”

She shakes her head with a mildly disgusted look.

“Then what are you even doing when you’re with him?”

“We talk?”

“Shouta, brother. Start posting a few pictures with him on Twitter and you could get hundreds of followers super-fast. Thousands, maybe.”

“Why are you saying this like it could ever have some appeal? You know that my only follower is Midnight and it’s already overwhelming me. You make it sound like I’m using him for his fame.”

“Then what are you using him for?”

“He’s a nice guy!” he stutters.

“He’s a pretentious crazy famous teenage idol who wears leather at 30.”

For a second Shouta feels some sort of righteous anger rising inside him, then he sighs and it’s gone. His brain was always stronger than his emotions, and he kinda gets where it’s coming from.

“We’ll get you your selfie. I’ll ask him when he’s free. You are free both days, right?”

“Yeah, but it’ll be better to do it tomorrow. Don’t forget all the laminating and the gluing.”

“How could I ever.”

He unlocks his phone.

[Shouta] Are you free tomorrow?

He has the time to get multiple reviews on his quiz by Toshinori and Tensei before he gets an answer. Hizashi is generally a fast texter, but you always have to get a hold on him first.

[Hizashi] uh

[Hizashi] what for?

[Shouta] I have to take pictures of you for the merchandise bit and we have to record you talking.

[Hizashi] ah damn yeah there’s that thing

[Hizashi] I can’t tomorrow

[Hizashi] and I’m busy friday afternoon for the special weekly upload, is friday morning ok?

[Hizashi] or next week

[Shouta] Ah.

Somehow, he’s not sure that Joke’s view of Present Mic would improve if he suggested next week to her. He glances at her to make sure that she didn’t somehow get behind him to read the messages, but she’s playing some game on her phone.

[Shouta] I can’t drop by tomorrow at all? We can wrap it up in one hour.

[Hizashi] I’m visiting friends outside of town

[Hizashi] sry

[Hizashi] but you can come by friday any time before 11 am

[Shouta] What about 5 am?

[Hizashi] I said you could come, I didn’t say Id open

He stifles a laugh because he doesn’t want Joke to start asking questions.

[Shouta] My coworker wanted this done tomorrow. She’s going to hate you.

[Hizashi] is it the hot one I saw when I came last time?

[Shouta] Which one?

[Hizashi] dark hair, sparkling eyes, awful sense of fashion

For a second Shouta thinks he’s referring to Midnight, but somehow, he doesn’t think that orange-sunglasses-Present Mic would object to Midnight’s garters and knee-high boots. Then he understands, and he can’t help a smile.

[Shouta] Don’t call people’s eyes sparkling, it’s weird.

[Hizashi] it’s true though

[Hizashi] but Im sorry about tomorrow

[Hizashi] Im free rn if you want

Shouta checks the time. It’s past 4 pm. He was still hoping to go home early, maybe stop by the bookshop to check for new arrivals.

But Joke will be mad if they have to wait until Friday.

And Hizashi did buy apple juice especially for him.

So maybe he can drop by the bookshop tomorrow.

“Say, Joke, can you wait until Friday morning for the recordings?”

She slowly raises her head from her phone.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me about Present Mic’s schedules, Shouta?”

He makes himself seem very relaxed as he shrugs, like he’s not somewhat expecting to get punched.

“He’s unavailable tomorrow.”

Joke opens her mouth very dramatically, and he hurries before she finds her words:

“But! I can get the pictures tonight, so we can do the gluing and stuff tomorrow. So that’s covered. Actually, maybe we can also do the recordings tonight, if you want.”

Thankfully, that’s enough to stop the dreaded incoming rant. Joke is still squinting, but less menacingly.

“If you can get the pictures, then we can do the recordings Friday. But I’m not working overtime for this, and I’m busy tonight anyways.”

“Alright, alright.”

If he’s glad to have Hizashi for himself, no one needs to know.

[Shouta] Joke wants to see you Friday for the recordings. And if I ring at your door in an hour, will you open?

[Hizashi] ohh maybee

[Shouta] If you don’t I’ll send you a complaint for breach of trust.

Then, because he hasn’t been able to put that image out of his head:

[Shouta] I will also throw eggs at your window.

[Hizashi] I only accept organic eggs

Shouta grins.

So yeah, maybe Hizashi is a pretentious leather-wearing teenage idol. But he’s one that Shouta can tolerate.

Hizashi does open the door of the building, which is a relief. Midnight had been very enthusiastic about lending Shouta her camera, which might be because it’s the first time since he’s been hired that he’s asked to work past 5 pm. Or because she’s started actually editing, and she’s seemingly happy with the results.

In any case he couldn’t very well come back to work the next day with an empty camera, could he? Worst come to worst, he wasn’t above breaking into the building across the street to take stealthy pictures of Present Mic cooking dinner, if that meant avoiding Joke’s wrath.

But Hizashi opens the door and, standing for the second time in his apartment, Shouta thinks that he could get used to it.

This time Hizashi isn’t waiting at the fridge in a fancy jacket, blabbering rich people nonsense with an artificial smile.

His jacket looks comfortable, dark blue and fluffy-looking, and he’s sitting at his computer. His smile is very soft.

“Good to see you,” he says. “Want something to drink?”

Shouta hums.

“I heard you got me something?”

“Don’t make me sound like a drug dealer,” Hizashi complains as he gets up.

When he removes the wireless headset from his neck, it ruffles his hair in a very endearing way.

“They saw your footage from yesterday?” he asks as he opens the fridge.

“Yeah, Midnight spent the day working on it.”

“And they’re still letting you carry this around?”

He gestures at Midnight’s camera with a plastic bottle of, God bless him, cheap looking juice. Shouta rolls his eyes.

“The video should be out tomorrow, by the way.”

“Dope.”

Hizashi doesn’t sound half as high-strung about it as Tensei does, and Shouta understands for the first time the total unbalance of power at play here. While Shouta’s enterprise is in the middle of an incredible opportunity with a big web influencer, Hizashi is simply making a one-time partnership with a fairly small media company.

Is it what it's about? Is it why Tensei, Midnight and Joke were taking the brainstorming so seriously while Hizashi didn’t even know at what time the meeting was supposed to take place? Shouta had thought it was a matter of personal temperament, but maybe it was simply related to how differently they saw it.

He must have been looking a bit too intensely at Hizashi, because the guy raises his eyebrows with an amused smile.

“You okay?”

“I think I’m starting to understand social media things,” Shouta answers quietly.

Hizashi hands him a glass of juice and pours himself another.

“Cheers. You can start looking for a job in a social media company now.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m very funny.”

Shouta can’t rightfully disagree, so he doesn’t acknowledge it.

The white couch is not that uncomfortable, if you lean on the pillows the right way. He puts the glass on the table like he did the day before, and carefully unzips the camera satchel.

“Déjà vu,” Hizashi comments.

Shouta unscrews the cap, looking at him dead in the eyes.

“Well you tell me then, am I about to wipe the lens with my sleeve?”

Hizashi sits next to him, his arm on the back of the couch.

“And you tell me, are you about to get kicked out of my flat?”

His hand is nearly touching Shouta’s shoulder. He idly wishes that it would.

“I’d rather not. I have fifty pictures to take while it’s still daytime.”

“Alright,” Hizashi says, tilting his head back in the cushions. “What kind of pictures anyway?”

“I don’t know. It’s your community. What pictures of you do they like the most?”

Hizashi gestures noncommittally, and his fingers do graze Shouta’s shoulder here.

“Pictures where I look good. Where I smile. The usual.”

“They can already find a ton of pictures like that online though, right?”

“Everyone can already find tons of pictures of me online doing about anything,” Hizashi answers, looking at Shouta from under his eyelids. “Except for nudes, but I don’t think that’s what you’re going for.”

Shouta laughs and downs half of his glass. That apple juice is way better than the other one.

“It’ll be hard to sell that on our Instagram, but maybe we can set you up an OnlyFans account.”

Hizashi shifts closer on the couch, eyes playful.

“What makes you think I don’t have one already?”

Shouta grins, leaning back and raising the camera to his eyes.

“Because then you’d have way more than a million fans.”

He presses the shutter at the exact moment Hizashi’s expression shifts from surprised to pleased. It’s a very good photo.

“What do you think of this one?” he asks as he holds Hizashi the camera.

Hizashi grabs it circumspectly, then groans.

“I look very confused.”

“You look a bit dumb. But OnlyFans subscribers aren't in here for the wits, am I right?”

“You’re the expert,” Hizashi grumbles, and Shouta suddenly understands why people like to make fun of his own grumblings. It’s admittedly pretty funny.

“In my professional opinion, we don’t need to take fifty pictures. We could just use this one and record yourself saying incoherent things. It would be hilarious.”

Hizashi crosses his arms and gets up, like an angry professor about to kick him out of math class.

“And I am the seven years old? Joke’s on you, the gang would find me very sexy anyway.”

Shouta gets up too out of principle. They’re about the same size.

“Joke’s on you , your fanbase doesn’t have any critical thinking.”

“You do make up for it, that’s for sure.”

His brow is furrowed, and for a second Shouta worries that he went too far. Midnight said it: too many jokes can get annoying. He’s always been one to push until he finds someone’s limit, but he had yet to find Hizashi’s.

Shouta raises his hands in front of him, as if to show that he’s not holding any weapon.

“I’m sorry if I offended you. Sometimes, I’m not a very considerate person.”

Hizashi stares. Then, he bursts out laughing.

“You know I’m messing with you, right? I don’t have such a weak ego, I know what I’m worth.”

By all means, this should make him sound insufferable.

Shouta didn’t ever expect to find it charming.

“At least your ego makes up for your lack of common sense,” he says weakly, but there isn’t any bite to it.

“Hum hum,” Hizashi answers as he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to him. Shouta grabs it reflexively. It’s knitted wool, dark blue with streaks of gold.

“Why…?”

“I can’t be photographed in just any indoor jacket,” explains Hizashi as he crosses the room towards a closet closed by a colorful pearl curtain. “I have to find something else to wear.”

“I’m not your valet!” Shouta protests.

Yet he doesn’t let go of the jacket. It’s very warm from Hizashi’s skin, and it’s impossibly soft. The wool is slightly frayed, and he can see a few strands of blond hair in there. It’s been worn a lot.

“We can pretend you’re my costume design assistant, if it makes you feel better. What do you think of this one?”

He’s waving an enormous red biker jacket adorned with countless silver chains.

“Do people actually possess this kind of stuff? I thought it only appeared for people searching ‘tacky’ in google images.”

Hizashi raises a finger.

“I admit that it’s a bit unusual but listen…”

He shakes the jacket, and the chains make a sound like metallic rain.

“Pretty cool, right?”

Shouta feels physically repulsed by it.

“I’m not tainting Midnight’s camera with pictures of that thing. Also the boxes are purple. This red will be vile on it.”

“Man,” Hizashi guffaws. “If you’re reacting so strongly to that one, wait until you see the cyberpunk neon one.”

As it is, Shouta definitely doesn’t feel like waiting for the cyberneon punk one or whatever. He raises the dark wool jacket he’s still holding.

“Why don’t you keep this one? It fits you.”

Hizashi looks skeptically at him.

“Are you implying that I carry such a granny vibe? I have literally dozens of classier clothes. Or I could go back to black leather? You liked that one.”

“Not as much as this one. Your fans will like it more too, it makes you look more approachable.”

It makes him look like a friend opening you their door while drinking hot cocoa.

Hizashi shoots him a winning smile.

“That’s the point. I’m not going for approachable. Those pictures are going to be used for very limited content. It asks for spicy. No one wants to see me wear the jacket in which I fall asleep.”

“If I was a fan of yours, I would,” Shouta states.

Hizashi’s look is unmistakably affectionate.

“Good thing my audience isn’t made of grandpas. They wouldn’t know how to open my tiktok videos anyway.”

So Shouta loses this fight. As he’s starting to learn, Hizashi is a nice guy, but not the type to compromise where work is involved. They take the pictures with the cyberpunk jacket, which is a purplish monstrosity featuring tubes of pink light on either forearm. Shouta’s only consolation is that the color theme is coherent with the boxes.

Then the sun starts setting and the sky gives them an unexpectedly gorgeous pink background, so they take a few more pictures, eat half a chocolate bar and finish the juice. When Shouta leaves, it’s almost dark outside.

When he turns back towards Hizashi’s window from the street he catches him waving goodbye, the jacket light bathing his face in pink hues. He’s quite a sight.

Chapter Text

When Shouta gets to the office on Thursday morning he’s right on time, yet everyone is already there. Toshinori waves at him from the microwave, which isn’t surprising because he’s always early. But Tensei, Midnight and Joke are gathered around Tensei’s computer, muttering in a lowkey cultish way that reminds Shouta of ritual invocations.

He tentatively raises the camera satchel in his hand, half-fearing to draw their weird focus on him.

“I got the pictures?” he ventures.

“God you’re finally here,” Joke sighs as if they had agreed to meet up extra early for an ominous muttering session.

“It’s 8:30. I’m on time.”

She waves her hand dismissively in the most insulting possible gesture of ‘sure you are’ to make at someone who is technically right.

“They’re about to post the video,” Toshinori explains with a pat on Shouta’s shoulder. “They’re a bit nervous.”

“As you two would be,” Joke shoots back, “if you cared about the future of this company at all.”

Bold allegations to hear from someone who almost spat at him the day before when he suggested they go record Present Mic after work hours. But Joke is nothing if not bold. Tensei and Midnight aren’t even paying attention to them, arguing in a low voice about something on the screen.

“It’s not that big of a deal, is it?” Shouta asks Toshinori because he’s beginning to wonder if he has drastically underestimated the situation.

Toshinori shakes his head with an amused look, raising his mug at them.

“They’re being overdramatic. The usual.”

“Figures.”

Shouta goes to sit on his chair, rolling a bit back and forth for the sake of it.

Rolling desk chairs have been the biggest improvement of the workplace lately, he decides. Maybe, if the Present Mic exposure thing does work, Nedzu will buy them even bigger ones. Gigantic cushions on huge wheels, so comfortable that they’d never even wish to get up. Shouta can already imagine them all leaving work at 5 pm on their mighty cozy rolling cushions, causing commotion and admirative gasps in the street, overtaking strollers and electric scooters alike.

He's surprisingly cheerful this morning.

Maybe that’s what it does to you, seeing a man like Hizashi waving you goodbye in a ridiculous luminous pink jacket.

If he can get happy from a memory including such a jacket, it means that the crush thing is getting serious. He idly wonders if he’s supposed to be a bit more proactive about the whole courting business, but it’s not as if he’s on a tight schedule. As much as Shouta’s not an absolute relationship expert, Hizashi made it pretty clear that he was interested from the very day they met. Shouta has no doubt that at the time it was harmless, meaningless flirting. It didn’t mean much to him either.

But since then, the entertaining though-overly-cheeky Work_Present Mic has become the sincere, passionate, charming though-still-overly-cheeky Hizashi.

Since then, Shouta got to hear him on the phone, his voice so sweet and genuine, and it made him realize that he wanted to hear it again.

And since then, he’s held Hizashi’s wool jacket in his hands, the colors of a starry night, full of Hizashi’s warmth and smell. And it made Shouta understand how much he wanted to take pictures and pictures of Hizashi in it, to etch that image in his retinas forever.

To be entirely honest with himself, Shouta likes the pacing. He likes the way his heart flutters when his fingers brush Hizashi’s by mistake. The way he has to hide how much he wants to dig his face into the wool fabric. Maybe he’s a romantic. He knows how precious those moments are. He’d rather slow it down than rush it.

“Alright,” says Tensei in a tone absolutely unfit for the romantic vibe Shouta had going. “Anyone wants to reread our twitter thread draft? We’re posting now.”

“Going after you two feels like following the world’s best Hoover with a broom,” Toshinori answers good-naturedly as he makes his way towards the computer.

“I don’t know what a twitter thread is,” Shouta chimes in, getting up.

The “twitter thread draft” actually consists of a few lines in a Word file, whose marketing quality Shouta isn’t qualified enough to assess. They’re written in an enthusiastic tone, promising “exciting content” in the days to come followed by emojis of a clock and a microphone that are probably supposed to sound like a clever “Present Mic” hint. Shouta would bet his incredible office chair that Tensei was the one who thought it would be subtle, but he doesn’t feel like undermining his work.

He shruggs.

“Sounds good to me.”

“We’ll add a picture of Present Mic to the post,” Tensei adds. “One that Midnight took on the docks. In a few hours, we’ll post your insider thing, then Midnight’s interview around 5 pm. Tomorrow morning is Toshinori’s horoscope, and Joke’s giveaway is in the afternoon. We already have a few ideas for next week, but we’ll adapt depending on the online reaction.”

“Strike the iron while it’s hot,” Joke sententiously finishes.

“Draw from the Fates while they’re listening,” Toshinori muses.

For the lack of a wittier thing to say, Shouta nods.

He could swear that he sees Tensei hold his breath when he pastes that text on his twitter (their twitter, he supposes), adding a “@PresentMic” and uploading a picture where Hizashi, admittedly, looks quite dashing - his back to the sea, the dark water framing his face. He obviously went for approachable, here, with a friendly smile that Shouta wouldn’t have imagined calculated if he hadn’t seen Hizashi look deliberately haughty during their photoshoot the previous day.

That man knows how to work his crowd alright.

[Shouta] My coworker is making the announcement on twitter.

The answer, for once, is immediate.

[Hizashi] ok! tell him to ping me, I’ll respond or something

Attached to his text message is a picture of a huge yellow field through a train window. Shouta can also see a knee in the corner of the frame, in what is probably Hizashi’s leather pant. It’s nice to see a part of him – if Shouta was 15 again, he’d zoom in to look for a reflection in the window. Thankfully, he’s not that desperate just yet.

Instead, he sends Hizashi the back of Tensei’s head and the computer screen.

[Hizashi] blurry picture

[Shouta] I drained all my photographic talent last night.

[Hizashi] couldn’t handle all the charm?

[Shouta] No, I had a tough model.

Hizashi sends an emote face sticking out their tongue, and Shouta really hopes he’s using it as a joke. He couldn’t handle loving a man who would send those emoticons unironically.

For a brief moment of panic, he wonders if Hizashi did understand that all of his smiling emotes were passive-aggressive smiling, and not gentle, happy smiling.

“It’s going a bit slow,” Tensei comments.

He has actually zoomed in the twitter post on his left monitor to see the number of reactions rise. There are only two now, but for something posted a literal minute ago, Shouta thinks it impressive.

“All his fans are at school right now,” Toshinori points out. “You’ll get a lot more reactions during morning recess.”

Even Midnight smiles at that one.

“I told him we were posting,” Shouta says, loosely waving his phone. “He said he’ll answer.”

“Great, thank you!” Tensei exclaims as though Shouta had done it to please Tensei specifically.

A notification pops on the monitor, and indeed it’s Present Mic.

“hey gang, here’s my latest surprise! we spent some time doing this for you, be sure to check it out!!”

Tensei audibly sighs of relief as if it wasn’t a very standard, very vague message. But if the ‘gang’ would’ve been willing to find Hizashi hot on a dumb-looking picture like the first one Shouta took yesterday, they would probably indeed check anything out for him.

From that moment on the twitter reactions go a bit faster, Tensei relaxes, and everyone goes back to their business. Shouta hands Joke the camera for her to load the pictures on her computer, and sits back at his desk .

[Shouta] I thought you never used uppercases because there was no point in direct messages. Are you telling me it’s always been a stylistic effect?

[Hizashi] I’m very stylish

[Hizashi] you’ve seen how I dress…

Shouta doesn’t give him the satisfaction to answer something along the lines of “precisely”, because he feels that Hizashi is expecting it. A notification pops up on his screen, from the Teams’ group conversation.

Yagi Toshinori: here’s tomorrow’s horoscope!! Get ready to shine!

There’s a pdf linked, and Shouta scans it until he finds the Scorpio section. Toshinori doesn’t sort the list by the usual, internationally agreed, Aries-to-Pisces horoscope order where Scorpio is a-bit-after-the-middle. He changes the order of the twelve signs everyday based on which one will have the happiest day. It’s not as if he was paid to be understood anyway.

Scorpios are depressingly low on the list today. By the time Shouta finishes reading a very obscure yet gloomy metaphor linking his predicted feeling of doom to Present Mic’s gloves aesthetic (the horoscope being Present Mic’s themed, of course), he’s half convinced that a twelfth of the world population, including himself, will have to throw themselves out of the window before noon.

In his case it would be more humiliating than deadly, given that the office is on the first floor.

[Shouta] What’s your astrological sign?

[Hizashi] taking a test to figure out our astrological compatibility, are you? ;)

Shouta can’t help but smile. Somehow, he can imagine middle school Hizashi enthusiastically using these kinds of tests to assess his chances with his crushes.

[Shouta] God no.

[Hizashi] no need to be shy

[Hizashi] my sign’s cancer

[Hizashi] what does it say?

[Shouta] Let me see…

[Shouta] “If you and someone else both believe you could be compatible based on an astrological sign test then you’re perfect together”.

Cancers are at the top of the happiness ranking, but Shouta figures that it makes sense for a test based on a guy whose sign is Cancer. Toshinori did at least one google search for this.

Cancer: Orange and green, autumn leaves and summer trees! Today is a day of renewal and growth.  Your emotions, your spirit and your luck will all unit in a beautiful harmony - like orange glasses and green, green eyes.

That’s merely the opening, but there are at least three more paragraphs of detailed, precise, absurd advice. Shouta saves himself the trouble of typing the whole thing down (it would imply that he would have to read the nonsense) by taking a picture.

From Joke’s humming sounds and clicking mouse, he figures that she’s sorting the pictures. Shouta had hoped that she would take care of that. Since Midnight emptied the SD card before giving him the camera (of course she did) Shouta knows exactly how many pictures he took, and he doesn’t have it in him to see that hideous jacket two hundred more times.

He can pinpoint exactly here the limit of the things he would do for love.

As if on cue, the phone screen lights up.

[Hizashi] pretty nice

[Hizashi] I should read my horoscope more often

[Hizashi] what does it say for you?

[Shouta] It told me to be careful about the negative impact I can have on my surroundings.

He charitably lets Hizashi make fun of him.

After Hizashi’s train reaches its destination he stops answering his text and, as Shouta walks back from the printer shop, he realizes that he’s about to spend the next 5 gruesome hours gluing tiny pictures of a man who is taking a day off. Yet he’s pretty certain that Hizashi is about to make more money than him just by existing and probably selling body pillows with his face on it somewhere.

Shouta imagines a dozen different versions of giant Present Mic pillows, and that actually amuses him enough to smile stupidly for the first part of the afternoon. Maybe he should make a quiz about it - but he’s afraid that he’ll bring into his following some people who might take it a little too seriously, and who would genuinely pay money to sleep next to body pillows with actual Present Mic’s hair. And he’s also afraid to seem a little too obsessed with Hizashi Yamada.

But, after all, he did spend a sadly high amount of money to print fifty pictures of the guy. And given the look that the printer’s shop’s employee gave Shouta when he piled up all the glossy, high-quality pictures, she can very well see him obsessed enough to make quizzes about the body pillows, to acquire the body pillows, and to do things to the body pillows that no body pillow should ever have to experience.

Shouta finishes the laminating in a little under an hour. It's funny how, sometimes, a task that you dreaded actually is a lot easier than expected. It’s funny, and also not what happens this time. This time is excruciatingly slow, painful, and Shouta has to disassemble and reassemble the main pieces of the machine after an uncooperative piece of plastic gets stuck in it. Twice.

That, at least, gives him his intellectual thrill of the afternoon, because gluing the picture correctly while having to listen to Joke complaining makes him consider quitting.

But it’s not as if he was having some mid-30 life crisis realizing that his job wasn’t fitted for him, because that whole middle-school activity torture is not even part of his job sheet. And he frankly hopes that, if mid-30 life crisis there must be, it’ll look something more like boarding a plane for the Philippines on impulse, and less like suddenly craving to drive a glue stick into his ear right to his brain.

When the printing and the laminating and the gluing and the ‘stop-frowning-Shouta’ and the ‘let’s-check-if-all-the-batteries-are-working-now’ and the ‘Shouta-I’ll-shave-your-eyebrows-off-if-you-don’t-stop-frowning’ are finally done with, Joke informs Shouta that Present Mic hasn’t answered her email about the next morning’s recording session, and that you can’t ever count on this type of people for professionalism.

“We better record that thing tomorrow morning, I’m not working overtime for that thing Shouta,” she threatens as if he was personally keeping Present Mic from his inbox.

Shouta briefly wonders if he’s a bad friend to Hizashi for not defending him, but he’s spent way too many hours looking at Hizashi smiling cockily in pink shades to be on his side right now.

He goes for a drink with Toshinori that evening and, as often when with Toshinori, the discussion focuses more on other people’s kids than it probably should with two grown-up men. In his defense, Shouta isn’t participating a lot. He could always tell the cops he was coerced into listening. But he likes hanging out with Toshinori.

There’s something with talkative blondes that relaxes him, maybe.

[Shouta] Joke says you’re not answering her emails.

[Hizashi] damn, are you lot going to fight for my attention?

[Hizashi] I didn’t mean to cause drama in your company :(

[Shouta] You’re causing drama because she wants to have your recordings by noon tomorrow.

[Hizashi] you’re asking me to open my door to two journalists?

[Shouta] Feel free to keep it close. She’ll be delighted to record embarrassing facts about you.

[Hizashi] you don’t have embarrassing facts about me

[Shouta] That’s irrelevant. I hope you’re ready for the world to know how you loved eating living bugs at the age of 7.

[Hizashi] you should be ashamed

[Shouta] So should you. Eating living cockroaches on a piece of bread? Get a grip.

[Hizashi] come from 8 am

Chapter Text

Since Joke is the one with a car, she stops by the office the next morning to bring all the recording boxes to Hizashi’s building. Shouta’s only job is to show up at their meeting on time, which he does and she doesn’t, but the morning air is warm and he doesn’t mind waiting. Upstairs, Hizashi must be sitting at his computer, or finishing his breakfast.

“The parking fee is scandalous,” Joke recriminates as a greeting.

“You kept the receipt? You know the company will pay you back, right?” Shouta shrugs as he grabs the case that she’s handing him.

Shouta spent the day before handling those little plastic boxes in his hands, and found them very light. So he’s not expecting the weight of fifty of them together, and he almost falls over in a particularly ridiculous fashion.

“I’m not stupid,” Joke answers as she eyes him getting his balance back in a way that implies an unspoken ‘, me.’ . “But I’m complaining as an average middle class citizen in a bourgeoisie neighborhood. I don’t even want to think about who people here are voting for.”

Shouta doesn’t know much about that, but he surely couldn’t vouch for this neighborhood to be the ultimate representative of social diversity in the city. It’s likely that the fashion-managers, wine-giving neighbors of Hizashi wouldn’t take it well to have Shouta’s dropout neighbor puking their expensive wine in the stairwell.

They walk up the stairs quickly and, when Hizashi opens the door to his flat, Joke looks him up and down dubiously like she’s assessing a piece of overpriced furniture. Hizashi merely raises his eyebrows, throwing her the same look in return. That’s when Shouta realizes that the two of them have some things in common, like being self-confident enough to look at someone that boldly, and immature enough to look back at them just the same. Joke doesn’t seem impressed and she extends her hand with a grin.

“Thanks for making yourself available this morning.”

“It is my pleasure.”

Joke lets herself in and Shouta follows. Hizashi meets his eyes with a warm smile, closing the door behind them.

“Congratulations for the success of our little video.”

When Shouta left work Tensei was uploading Midnight's interview, because 5 pm was the moment when school-aged Present Mic’s fans were starting to check their socials more avidly. He forgot to ask  how well his insider video (which was mostly Midnight's insider video, given the work she put into it) had done.

“It worked?”

“Yeah, nicely. But I had no doubt that it would. I’ll show you the reactions when the recording is done.”

Shouta feels the light touch of Hizashi’s hand on his back as he needlessly guides him towards the middle of the room. It’s not as if there had been any risk of Shouta getting lost in that one big doorless room. But it feels nice.

“Did you think about what you want to say?” Joke asks as she takes the case from Shouta’s hand - she really only gave it for him to carry in the stairs. She crouches and starts laying the boxes in a neat 5x10 grid on the coffee table. The second that Shouta starts dutifully helping, she gets back up and lets him finish by himself. Shouta’s reached the point where he’s so unsurprised that he’s not even wasting energy to feel annoyed anymore.

“I’m thinking that I could either sing song extracts or record basic, slightly different ‘I hope you are well messages,” Hizashi says.

Looking at his bland TV show’s smile, Shouta has the sudden suspicion that Hizashi made that up on the spot. He’s never seemed, during the whole campaign, very invested in it.

“Yeah,” Joke answers in such an unimpressed tone that the agreement couldn’t possibly feel gratifying.

Hizashi raises his eyebrows again. He must realize by now that Joke isn’t half the professional Midnight is.

“Is there a compatible SD card in those boxes? Can you edit the messages on a computer once we’ve recorded them?”

“No. We can only erase and record again if needed.”

Shouta has finished organizing his box lines, so he takes one and hands it to Hizashi.

“Do you want to record them in your singing room?”

“It’s not a singing room, it’s a music studio.”

Shouta answers with a deliberately extra-long disapproving-sounding sigh and Hizashi shakes his head.

“The worst thing with you is how intent you are on making me sound snobbish while you’re the one choosing to overlook the correct words because you’re too much of a snob to take the time to learn them.”

That shuts Shouta up. What gets to him more than the words, maybe, is the way that Hizashi doesn’t wait for his answer before moving on, as if he was stating a mere established fact and not trying to win an argument.

“Maybe we should actually do it in the studio,” Hizashi tells Joke. “The room is soundproof, so we won’t be troubled by traffic down the street or noises in the corridor.”

“Unless we want to make it subversive,” Joke muses. “Your voice half-drowned by traffic as a metaphor for the diversity of artists online.”

Shouta thinks that she’s joking, but he also knows that she once went to see a ‘subversive’ performance of the musical Cats where every singer had to hula-hoop. She paid money on the ticket. Money that she didn’t ask a refund for. Because she liked it.

So her artistic input is questionable at best.

“Or you don’t say anything,” Shouta offers, “as a metaphor for how hard it is to be heard on social media.”

Joke glares at him like she did when he made suggestions for the Present Mic pictures two days earlier. Back then, when he really was trying to help, it had felt a bit unfair.

Now, though, he reckons that it is justified.

“Let’s keep away from the subversive,” Hizashi states, very clearly unconvinced.

From the look Joke sends Shouta, she would enjoy seeing him eat recording boxes until he’s shitting plastic. He doesn’t acknowledge her, as though too busy in devising elaborate strategies to notice such childish behaviors.

(Which is, in itself, a fairly childish behavior.)

“You saw my pictures,” Hizashi adds. “The voice notes are part of the same object. What could accompany it best?”

There’s a silence hanging there, as if they were waiting for the answer to a rhetorical question. It stretches long enough for Shouta to know that the question was not, in fact, rhetorical. Joke is busy drumming her fingers on her chin, so it’s up to him to answer.

“I don’t know what your people like the most,” he says. “You made it clear last time that their interests and mine don’t overlap.”

“That’s true enough. What about you, what do you think?” Hizashi says as he turns to Joke.

The fingers stop drumming.

“Those messages are going to get listened to a lot. Probably unconsciously learned by heart, since they’re so short. We should take that into account.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You should exclude witty things. It doesn’t take more than 3 or 4 listening in a row for them to sound lame.”

“Repeat the details of your bank account,” Shouta offers. “Next time they make a bank transfer they’ll feel compelled to send money to that mysterious number etched in their memory.”

Joke slightly moves forwards, as if to shield Hizashi’s brain from Shouta’s nonsense. Her vile violation of free speech doesn’t keep Hizashi from laughing, though. Thinking back of Midnight's words, Shouta must agree that he is the person in the company with which Hizashi has the most affinities.

Which doesn't mean he's the one with which he can work the most efficiently, though.

"I think you could also avoid messages referring to events in time," Joke carries on in her wishful fantasy that Shouta hasn't spoken (and that he also probably does not exist right now in this plane of existence). "Saying something about a specific ongoing project or a number of followers could give it a vintage polish, but it could also make it seem dusty very fast."

"I see what you mean. And songs might be too tricky for a short recording that can't go through a computer-“ Shouta must admire the consistency with which he keeps referring to his singing, even when no one asks it of him – “so let’s stay with vague, punchy messages."

“Vague and punchy?” Joke repeats.

She looks puzzlingly at Shouta, so he feels like he can safely provide an input this time:

“It gives you unspecified good energy. Like have fun today… somehow. Or have a good time doing… whatever you’re doing.”

Hizashi bypasses Joke and gives Shouta a shove, not stopping as he enters his music room.

“It sounds lame said like that. Come, I’ll show you.”

Shouta looks down at the other forty-nine boxes neatly lined on the table. He looks up at Joke. She looks back, and carefully takes a step back.

“You help me,” he hisses.

“You put them here,” she hisses too, not slowing down in her shameless retreat.

“It was your idea.”

“It’ll teach you the danger of mimicking blindly what looks like good ideas.”

“Are you serious?”

Hizashi’s head appears in the door frame.

“You coming?”

They give him their best tested-and-approved “yes Midnight” smile and, in the end, they move the boxes together.

Box 1, extract:

“…if you’re a fan, you know that I used to be in a music band, at a time where I was supposed to study full time. I was going to become a teacher, can you imagine it? I love sharing my passions, but English grammar isn’t one of them. So I quit university. I don’t say it often, but it’s not something I recommend doing lightly. I got very lucky. I don’t know how old you are, but those rules apply at any time in life: think over the big decisions. Ask for opinions. Remind yourself why you chose that situation in the first place…”

Box 2, extract:

“…I love my work, and no one on the internet questions the legitimacy of it, really. But the internet is a distorted version of the real world. I can assure you that in my everyday life it’s not as easy to make new people understand it, whatever their age, without sounding like some kind of secluded loser shying away from actual work. Please try to do what you love, even at this price. Acceptance isn’t worth being miserable…”

Box 8, shorter extract:

“…I’m often asked how to deal with stress, and I get how essential it is. My advice is to compartmentalize. Imagine your week as a train. There are multiple wagons, each with its importance, and your time is limited…”

It goes on for a long time. Hizashi talks fast and he never seems to run out of ideas, like a magician pulling rabbits after rabbits from a hat until he’s gathering a whole fluffle. What a talker. The type of people with which you could put your phone down in a call for five good minutes and hear them still talking when you pick it up again.

Joke has taken on the task to give Hizashi the boxes and handle the timer, so Shouta simply sits on the floor, back to the wall, listening to Hizashi giving more or less interesting, more or less original life advice with good humor and enthusiasm.

They re-record a few times, when Hizashi stumbles on his words or doesn’t manage to handle the limited time, but most of it is done in one go, neat and professional. Even taking into account the pauses between the recordings, to give Hizashi time to catch his breath or drink water, the whole thing is over in under an hour. During this time, Shouta learns various things about the guy – like how he used to have a hamster with seven names (one for each day of the week), how he was asthmatic as a child, or how – something that surprises Shouta – he dislikes big travels. And each time it is linked to one of his old people's life lessons, like finding joy in the little things, or holding on in difficult times, or whatever.

Shouta finds the example too specifics for the messages to be called “vague”, and the ideas too reflexive for them to be called “punchy”, but there’s no real point in arguing over terminologies when Hizashi is handling the task without them having to do anything.

They stay another whole half an hour to check again that every recording is alright before they leave. Joke is happy with their schedule but she still refuses to stay over for a morning snack and Shouta, being her lackey for the day (and also in the middle of his work hours), follows. They leave as Hizashi is opening chocolate waffles, and he raises one to Shouta as they close the door as if making a toast.

The weekly call with Nedzu takes place at the end of the morning. Tensei has written a weekly synthesis of their results, statistics and general reactions, as well as an action-by-action review. Isolated numbers are abstract ideas but their number of followers went up by 10%, which is impressive.

“It’s impossible to tell yet if those new subscribers will react to anything non-Present Mic related, but that gave us exposure at least. Next time our name or our logo pops up on someone’s feed, they might recognize it.”

“I completely agree,” Nedzu agrees completely. “I’m very happy with all of you, you did a marvelous job this week.”

Tensei, who likes taking notes, writes something on his notepad. Maybe a happy emoticon.

“Are we following with this partnership next week? We have some other ideas to explore.”

Nedzu shakes his head. He doesn’t even ask what the ideas were, so that’s probably a big waste of a few brainstorming hours from Tensei and Midnight.

“We have to show what we really are about now that we got some attention. The novelty will fade if we use too much of Present Mic, and we might lose our older, most loyal followers. You will resume your usual work next week, with an increased focus on the quality of the content. Make it funny and light.”

Shouta and Toshinori eat lunch outside, in a too-fancy salad bar.

“I’m not about to complain about the partnership ending,” Toshinori admits while looking down at a salad more expensive than a whole fast-food menu. “Creativity with strict rules isn’t creativity anymore. Tell a writer what he must write and you’re sure to get a low-cost version of his usual work.”

“Even great writers used to take commissions,” answers Shouta as he takes a tentative bite into his salad. He’s eaten better ones in train stations for half the price. “Be it for money or pleasing relatives. Sometimes it gives better stories, as they don’t have to split their talent between thinking up the story and crafting it.”

“Yeah, alright, but I’m not sure that this rule applies to horoscopes. The core secret of a horoscope like mine is that it makes no sense. That’s why the people who read it read it. If it has to be a certain way, then it’s no better than every other one out there.”

An hour after that, sitting at his desk and looking at his notepad, Shouta realizes that he agrees. The freedom feels nice.

[Hizashi] I forgot to show you the video reactions

[Shouta] Oh, no, will I ever get over that?

[Hizashi] maybe not!

[Hizashi] some were funny

[Shouta] Next time, then.

[Hizashi] next time, uh?

[Shouta] What?

[Hizashi] your coworker told me that our partnership was over

[Shouta] You’re disappointed?

[Hizashi] not really, I have other things to fill my time with

[Hizashi] but now we have no reason to see each other anymore

[Shouta] You must be pretty happy.

[Hizashi] yeah… at last I don’t have to share my apple juice anymore

[here, a passive-aggressive smiling emote]

[Shouta] I still know where you live. I could break in, steal some.

[Hizashi] you do that

[Hizashi] but if you break my door it’ll be such a bother

[Hizashi] shoot a text when you’re close and I’ll just open

[Shouta] You’re the regular burglar's dream.

[Hizashi] I’m many people’s dream ;)

[Shouta] Do those types of sentences actually work on anyone?

[Hizashi] it worked on you

[Hizashi] right?

[Shouta] … Yeah, I suppose it did.

[Hizashi] all that matters

[Hizashi] :p

Chapter Text

Life after that week goes fairly similarly as life before that week. No hoard of teenagers breaks into their building, no masked reporter photographs Shouta when he’s buying groceries (or, if they did, it was stealthy enough that he didn’t notice), and – this one is more deplorable – the office stays exactly the same.

After all the ruckus about the new online followers, one could have thought that Nedzu would want to celebrate it somehow. Not necessarily a let’s-flood-the-floor-with-champagne-so-hard-that-the-ground-floor-will-undergo-massive-liquid-damage celebration, but at least a free-meal thing, or even a new carpet.

But alas the world stays the sad, underwhelming place that it’s always been, and Nedzu is a busy businessman managing multiple companies. That’s capitalism for you. In an enhanced, communist society, Nedzu could be to them a benevolent, carpet-providing father (although given what they make today in terms of communism, Shouta would also simultaneously be in jail for liking a man). But the Americans did win the Cold War so here he is, on a Monday afternoon, scratching at a sticky patch on their old carpet with his shoe.

The morning was a tad more exotic than usual, with Joke enlisting him to write down mailing addresses on puffy packages, but now the merchandise has been dropped at the post office ready to fly off towards high schoolers in random corners of the world (Shouta wouldn’t have believed that Present Mic had fans in Paraguay, of all places, if he hadn’t had to write down the address in Spanish himself - and what is up with their accents anyways?) Now, everyone’s back to their old routine.

Meaning, he has to come up with a new quiz.

“How’s my man feeling today?”

He looks up to the cup of coffee addressing him, and the man behind it. Well, chatting with Toshinori is also part of the routine.

“Like coming up with some amazing, non-Present-Mic-related ideas. You?”

“Feeling great. Waking up on a Monday is like opening a gift with all the week to come.”

There’s a line between “inspiring words” and “platitudes” where Toshinori has parked a van and decided to live. Shouta never quite knows how seriously he’s supposed to take him, so he nods like a coward.

The following mighty clap on his shoulder is very unexpected, and it’s such an all-body gesture that Toshinori spills coffee on the ground.

Quietly, the carpet reaches a new level of decrepitude.

“You’re quite refreshed, am I right? We all have some free time, compared to last week.”

The amount of threat in this kind of statements vastly varies depending on who is behind them. If Joke asks, in a time where you actually have some free time, you better start pretending to be busy dusting the wheels of your chair before you get enrolled in gruesome tasks. If Toshinori asks, though, it could mean taking a break outside, maybe even ordering a hot beverage in a nearby coffee.

“It’s less hectic than last week, yeah.”

Toshinori grins at that.

“I’m glad to hear it, my friend! I may have something to occupy your time then.”

This sounds suspicious.

“Hot chocolate next door?” Shouta hopefully tries.

Toshinori laughs like Shouta is being silly.

“Not at all. Something even better.”

“Viennese chocolate?” Shouta chances again without much hope, wondering what he is getting himself into. Toshinori shakes his head with a paternalistic smile.

“Do you remember me telling you about the young Izuku kid?”

“He makes for a good tenth of your conversations.”

The tenth during which Shouta usually loses focus quite fast. But he does remember the name, and something about struggling socially, and Toshinori worrying about him.

“Indeed. He’s a good kid. I told you he’s been accepted in the college he wanted, right?”

Shouta lets out a vague noise which could be interpreted either way.

“He’s thrilled! He thinks he got there thanks to me because he’s unable to take credit where he should. My help was minimal, I know some of the teachers there. I didn’t ask them to play favorite, mind you, it wouldn’t have been fair, but we were able to know what the teachers wanted to hear in the selection interviews. It’s not the grades that would’ve been a problem, Izuku is a smart kid, but he’s so sensitive and there’s all those issues with immediate pressure...”

That is why Shouta loses focus. That is why. He never even met the child and he unwillingly knows more about his psyche than his own nephews’.

“It’s a professionalizing college,” Toshinori goes on. “One of the best in the country in media communication, if I should say so. They have to do multiple internships a year, and Izuku would like his first to be at my workplace. When he told me… it was a very emotional moment for me.”

“We’re getting a new intern?” Shouta sums up, puzzled.

“Yes indeed! I wrote an email to Nedzu last week and he told me to wait until the partnership situation was over. Since we’re done now, and Izuku has some free time before college officially starts, he could come for a few days. His college is willing to approve an internship application before school starts if it lasts under a week.”

 “Okay,” Shouta says, apparently not enthusiastically enough since Toshinori claps him on the shoulder again.

“Isn’t it heartwarming? Inspiring the youth.”

“I’ve been told the whole week that I am the one who should be inspired by the youth.”

“We can all learn from everyone, that’s what it means to be human. And I was thinking that maybe you could teach the kid some of your knowledge.”

That’s enough for Shouta to raise his eyes from the sticky spot on the carpet that he’s started shoe-scratching again.

“What?”

“Yeah. You’ll like him, he’s curious about everything and he works seriously.”

‘Curious about everything’ sounds like bad, bad news. It sounds like a lot of talking; like nothing Shouta would ever want close to his ears during work hour.

“Aren’t you the one taking care of your interns?”

“Oh, of course. Izuku’s chair will be at my desk. But he still doesn’t know what he wants to specialize in, that’s what internships are for. So I’d like him to see what each of you work on.”

Thus even if Shouta gets questioned to death, at least he’ll die with the satisfaction of knowing that he won’t be the one suffering the most from handling a kid’s chatter (that will be Tensei, probably).

“Sure, then. I can’t promise he won’t get bored but, if he wants to, he can bring his chair over once or twice.”

Toshinori beams. Thankfully, there’s no shoulder clap to go with that. Chances are high that Shouta’s bones are already cracked anyway.

“Great. When Izuku asked me if he could talk to my colleagues I thought ‘that’s something for Shouta’! He’s a very sensitive one, he’d be way too stressed out around Tensei. You make people feel at ease.”

Shouta’s pretty sure that this is just a ‘Toshinori being nice’ thing. He’s never been the life of the party, when he even went to parties, as he doesn’t care enough to involve himself usually. He’s pretty content with what he already has.

But the thing about avoiding talking in a situation where dialogue is inevitable is that you’ll find yourself stuck listening to someone talk about themselves. Ultimately, they’ll think of you as a “good listener”. That must be what “making people feel at ease” means. Listening because you don’t want to talk, and not disagreeing because you don’t care.

“I’m not sure how interesting it can be for the kid,” he repeats, “but if he doesn’t talk too much then he can watch.”

“Marvelous!”

And Toshinori leaves at that, actually whistling as if it was something normal people usually did in real life (on their workplace)(on Monday mornings)(because of internships). At least two people look up at him.

Then, the office’s phone rings.

[Shouta] Were you the one who had the idea for the music boxes?

[Hizashi] I think it was Joke? why

[Shouta] They were the highlight of the whole campaign. We’re still getting messages asking if we have some more. We’ve been called us twice on the phone already.

[Hizashi] ah ah typical

[Hizashi] when I offer signed shirts I get comments asking about it months after

[Shouta] There was so much hype around those boxes that I almost wanted to take one just because I could.

[Shouta] It's like joining a lottery to get Justin Bieber bathwater. You don't care about it but you know other people do and that gives it a value in itself. Like why people fawn over the Mona Lisa. It's not that good of a painting, but you have to take a picture with it because it's so famous.

[Hizashi] I feel indirectly insulted?

[Shouta] I write a whole insightful take about art and you make it about yourself. You're so conceited.

[Hizashi] now I feel directly insulted

Joke would be horrified to know just how lousy their flirting is, but Shouta realizes he’s grinning.

Can you tell the line between bad flirting and actual dislike? A quiz in five parts.

He could just take sentences straight from their texts. That would be efficient (although unconvinced voices sounding just like Midnight would imply that he’s just lazy).

[Shouta] We are going to have a new intern at the company.

He feels a bit ashamed of rambling just because he doesn’t want the conversation to end. When he’ll be reading Hizashi his tarot future, that’s when he’ll know that he’s in too deep.

[Hizashi] ahah don’t kill him

[Hizashi] gtg talk to you later!!

So maybe the topic was that annoying.

At the coffee break, Shouta finally gives in. He lowers the sound on his phone and, hunched on his desk, opens a video on Present Mic’s profile. It’s a recent one, from the day he took the train to see his friends. Hizashi is walking. Behind his shoulders, there’s a yellow field of high grass moving under a strong wind.

‘Hello gang!’ he sounds a little short of breath ‘I hate walking yet here I am. But my, is it worth it. I love this part of the country.’ the camera turns around. In front of him, at the end of the field, there is an old medieval castle, preserved well enough to deduce that it’s one of those you pay to visit. ‘Finally getting there! I’m with my friends Daniel and Ann, be sure to check out their account!’ the camera turns again, on the other side this time. A woman waves at the camera and a man smiles. They look straight out of an advertisement about ‘nice couple vacations near you’, or ‘dynamic young executives leave well-paid job behind to run a bed and breakfast in the countryside’.

Then Hizashi says goodbye too and the video stops. It’s very short.

Shouta runs it again, looking at the strands of Hizashi’s blond hair wildly blowing with the wind.

At 12 am straight, while Shouta is scribbling bits of sentences on his notebook and thinking about lunch (it’s a low inspiration day), Toshinori suddenly jumps from his chair.

“Behold,” he shouts.

Shouta startles, misclicks with his mouse and his browser closes.

“What,” asks Tensei a bit curtly.

There’s a coffee puddle on his desk. There’s also a half-full coffee cup in his hand, dripping.

Toshinori grins, then leaves the room. They hear him take the stairs before the door closes.

“That was underwhelming,” Joke notes.

Tensei is grumbling at the coffee stain. Shouta hands him a tissue. Then they hear loud steps going up. Toshinori is talking, seemingly by himself.

“Behold…,” Shouta mutters.

He finally understood. Sure enough, there’s the frail frame of a teenager besides Toshinori.

“Izuku Midoriya,” Toshinori introduces proudly.

The boy bows shakily. He goes to shake Midnight’s hand, the closest to the door, but misjudge the distance and grabs her sleeve instead. When he realizes it, he seems about to cry. Shouta feels himself smile. This new intern might not be so bad.

The next day, Shouta wakes up to a text from Hizashi. It’s a mp3 file so he hits play as he cracks an egg in the pan. It’s some sort of catchy tune. Probably electro, or what he identifies as electro but might just be catchy pop. He keeps waiting for some singing to start but it simply stops after three minutes of instrumental music.

[Shouta] Are we sharing music now?

No reply comes but, given that he received the text only a couple hours ago, he supposes that Hizashi is sleeping – he hopes so.

He realizes at work that what he thought was Izuku Midoriya’s first day embarrassment might simply be Izuku Midoriya’s usual personality. A very awkward one.

At 9 am the boy trips on Midnight’s chair and falls on his face. At 9:20 am he trips again, this time on Joke’s chair and, gone wary by the very recent experience of falling, he grips whatever he can to stay up. It’s Joke’s shoulder, her chair tips over and they both crash on the ground.

So now they look out for the boy’s coming and going, and Shouta subtly wheels his chair a few inches to the side whenever the boy gets too close to his desk.

Apart from that, Midoriya is very eager to learn or has an OCD, or both, because he takes notes by hundreds. When Shouta is showing him the software he uses, it feels gratifying to see the kid scribble down whole pages with an extremely focused look. When he’s not the one in care of Midoriya and yet the boy is still lurking behind his back and scratching on paper, it’s rather unsettling.

Luckily, he’s not the only one to go through it.

[Those page turning sounds will be in my dreams], Jokes sends her through the office’s intern chat channel.

[In my nightmares], Shouta types back.

Then his phone buzzes.

[Hizashi] any plan for tonight?

He didn’t even answer about the music, maybe deterred by Shouta’s lack of enthusiasm.

[Shouta] Reading, I think. I've just started this book about murder and politics in Renaissance Venice. I’m not sure how historically accurate it is but the plot is catching.

[Hizashi] wanna look at my tiktok live? I’m making an announcement

Shouta frowns, swipes up to reread the most recent messages. Hizashi not reacting to a weird specific book that he would’ve loved to criticize a week ago. Before, Hizashi sending a random sound and not explaining. Before, Hizashi all but disappearing when Shouta tried to start a discussion about the intern.

[Shouta] What is up?

[Hizashi] you’ll look at the live? 8pm

[Shouta] Can’t you say it by message?

If he can choose, he’d rather be reading tonight at 8pm than watching Hizashi talk about his next tee-shirt merch giveaway. Although it might be a bit offensive to word it like that.

[Hizashi] I’d rather you look at the live

[Hizashi] please

[Hizashi] it’d matter a lot to me

Well. This isn’t really something you can say no to, is it? Shouta turns his chair towards Joke, barely avoiding crashing into that Izuku.

“Say, can you watch a tiktok live without an account?”

At 8pm he’s drinking a smoothie on his sofa, waiting for the video to start.

It starts with Hizashi’s smile, and fan comments invade the bottom of his screen (how is he supposed to hide them?)

“Hello gang, I have a small announcement tonight! There’s something going on in my life and I’d rather tell you here first. Before someone finds out at random.”

He’s wearing a very blue jacket with pale yellow stripes, something very classy, far away from his indoor jackets. However ‘small’ that announcement is, he gave it some thought.

“Some of you know how much I like to sing. The oldest fans might also know that I used to be in a band, a few years ago, and I loved it a lot. Last week, when I was on the trip with my good friends Ann and Daniel we did visit a bit of the countryside, but I mainly wanted to meet a woman that many people talked to me about. She’s a music producer. I wanted to show her some things I did.”

That’s surprising now. He didn’t tell Shouta about it, but Shouta supposes that he didn’t ask either.

“It went pretty well. She told me that we could make something, but that I needed to work a lot. I want to say that it’s because I lost my technique, but the truth is that my technique was pretty bad to begin with.”

It’s a funny joke, a bit too funny to be that spontaneous. That’s where Shouta realizes that the speech is scripted. Hizashi is probably less at ease than he makes himself seem.

“So I’m going to work on the singing, the music theory, take some lessons. I’ll be less active around here, but never doubt that I love you all!”

Then he answers some questions from the chat, whether he’ll keep doing this and that thing, whether he’ll tour all of Europe, whether he has an opinion on deforestation (that one however seemed slightly out of topic). Shouta puts the phone down around that moment, lets the live going in the background, and picks up his book. He waits until the live is finished to send a text.

[Shouta] Yo.

[Hizashi] so that was that

[Hizashi] what did you think?

[Shouta] Why didn’t you tell me by text?

[Hizashi] you didn’t look like you liked the music this morning

Shouta snorts. What a drama queen.

[Shouta] With your voice on it, I’m sure it’ll be incredible.

[Hizashi] thanks

[Hizashi] :)

That emote isn’t passive aggressive at all. It’s actually kind of cute.

[Hizashi] did you like the vest?

[Shouta] Hated it.

[Hizashi] I thought of you when I put it on

[Shouta] Please think of me when you take it off.

He realizes only too late what he said.

[Hizashi] will do ;)

Shouta lies down on the sofa, looking at the ceiling. Despite himself, he laughs.

Chapter Text

“I’d like us to try a little something,” is what Midnight greets them with on the Tuesday.

This does not sound like a good omen. This exact sentence triggered the time when they did the kennel-day-exposure-thing and also the time when they did the fine-arts-exhibit-reaction, both of which left Shouta with embarrassing memories and slight PTSD. He feels chills down his arms.

“What is it?”

She grins at them. She’s a ferocious savannah predator facing easy, fearful preys. Shouta does feel like some spineless meerkat right now.

“Do you remember when we did the collab with Joel?”

Shouta groans out loud.

“With who?” Joke asks.

Young Midoriya looks intensely at them, visibly wondering the same.

“I thought it was over,” Shouta grumbles. He groans again purposefully, to be certain he got his point across.

“Who’s Joel?”

“Joel, from the Ping-us-once company. You hadn’t joined the company yet,” Toshinori tells Joke. Midoriya scribbles down on his notebook.

“It was an enriching experience,” Midnight says.

“I thought about quitting. I had joined the company for exactly one week and I wanted to quit already.”

Shouta had seen the whole thing as some kind of degrading hazing.

“Oh yeah, I saw the Ping-us-once collab when I was preparing my job interview,” Joke snickers. “One of the things that made me want to join actually. That was wild.”

Shouta turns to her sharply.

“Not ‘wild’ in the cool way. Not wild like teenagers lighting a bonfire on a beach. Wild like a dog with rabies.”

“Shouta didn’t enjoy it very much,” Toshinori tells Midoriya as if there had been a possible doubt about that. “He’s not fond of cameras.”

“I’m not fond of embarrassment,” Shouta corrects, and Midnight rolls her eyes.

“It won’t be the same. What didn’t you like about collaborating with Joel?”

“Seeing you all pretend to funnily mess up at new jobs like we were performing amateur improv theatre. Being recorded doing that, on videos that will exist forever on the internet.”

“You say they were messing up like you weren’t part of it,” Joke says. “I saw the videos. You stapled your hand with that weird stapler trying to make a poster.”

Shouta can still feel the sting in his index finger, the staple like a phantom limb that he can never grasps and fully remove. Maybe he’s being a tad dramatic.

“There will be no loose staple this time,” Tensei says. Apparently, he already knows about Midnight’s idea. Figures. “Basically, we switch job for one day. It’s a different format.”

Shouta is starting to get really tired of new formats. He’s the kind of guy to apply for a job in archives and find fulfillment in dusting book for twenty years. He actually applied, once, and how different his life would be now if they had hired him…

“And I’ll film us,” Midnight adds, “and we’ll see the online reactions. People love to see the inside work, and coworkers having fun. Two birds, one stone.”

Shouta cannot fathom the level of boredom he’d have to be in to go willingly watch other people work after his own work hours, but he’s also certain that saying this won’t change anything and that Midnight presenting them her idea was a way to inform them, not ask for their approval. So he stays silent.

“Will our little intern join us in this?” Toshinori asks with a clap on Midoriya’s back that almost sends him flying across the room.

“No,” Midnight says. Then: “actually, it could be a good idea. Someone will take your place.” Then, to Midoriya: “we’ll have to ask your parents for matters regarding image rights, though.”

The boy nods a bit shakily, and it slightly enhances Shouta’s mood to witness another victim thrown into ridiculing themselves live.

“So who’s going to replace him then? Anyone wants to become an intern?” Joke asks, visibly enjoying way too much the thought of anyone being forced to make her coffee.

“I will do it,” Tensei says with a tone like he’s metaphorically rolling up his sleeves. He’s taking this way too seriously. Shouta’s pretty sure that Joke asking for coffee would result in a prosecution for intern mistreatment.

“Alright,” Midnight nods. “Then who will manage social medias?”

Shouta shoots her a wary look, aware that this whole experience could turn from purgatory to proper hell, but thankfully no one has considered him for such a task, even as a joke. It’d probably be too painful to watch, and he might also inadvertently delete all their accounts. Or advertently, even. Out of spite.

It’s Toshinori who ends up taking Tensei’s job, and Shouta starts thinking that after all, the whole swap thing could be quite fun. He volunteers instantly for the horoscope job, quite happy with his situation. Joke takes his job (with worrying glee), Midnight takes Joke’s, and Midoriya ends up with Midnight’s video and image editing position. He says that he doesn’t know much about editing but he’s a quick learner, with a voice that quivers just the right amount to confirm Shouta that he found someone surpassing him on the spineless meerkat scale.

He can already imagine the video description: ‘Young intern terrified of coworkers is coerced into joining a terrible team-bonding session, passes out. Hilarity ensues.’

“So we’re doing that right now?” Joke asks with a grin suggesting that she’s very eager to start.

“Let’s not. I’ll give you today to think about what you’ll do tomorrow.”

“How come we get time to think about it? Wasn’t being confused the whole point?”

“The point,” Midnight says patiently, “is to be confused in an endearing way. If you just stare at tik tok the whole day wondering how to log in, it’ll just be the boring side of confusion. We have to be on the goofy side.”

“The goofy side of confusion,” Shouta repeats numbly.

He’s one embarrassment away from a goofy resignation, that’s what he is.

Yet the following morning, Toshinori’s tarot in his hands, he’s beginning to see the appeal of it all. He draws a card very, very slowly, staring at the camera. The card shows a bearded man in a robe, holding a vial. Shouta nods, frowning.

“The Jesus card… uncanny. He’s holding the blood of Christ. It has meaning, my friends.”

Midnight cringes behind the camera. He sees her in clear pain, debating on whether to interrupt, and he relinquishes in the moment. She can suffer a bit. It’s fair revenge.

“It’s the magician,” she finally interjects.

He shrugs.

“That’s your interpretation. I have my own.”

“That’s my… it’s written on the card!”

Shouta waves the comment away, putting much effort into making that gesture both frustrating and demeaning.

“Sure, sure.”

Midnight sighs deeply.

“Let’s do another one where you don’t go for religion. We don’t want to offend anyone.”

“I’m sorry,” Shouta says (he isn’t).

For a few more minutes he draws cards and makes dubious interpretations. Then Midnight calls Toshinori, who is supposed to watch how Shouta uses the tarot and make funny comments about it (Midnight didn’t use the word “funny” but God forbids Shouta thinks of the word “goofy” more than he absolutely has to). But the moment Shouta starts his very serious future reading Toshinori actually starts laughing out loud too much to make articulate comments, which Midnight likes to film for about 10 seconds before she realizes that it’s not about to stop soon. She then makes a pointed comment about their professionalism (or lack thereof) and walks away with her camera.

At 3pm, Midnight looks on the verge of a breakdown so Shouta decides to be magnanimous. He stops at least following her and crying out things like “this is such a spontaneous and fun bonding moment” or “I’ve never laughed so much in my life”.

Even Tensei seems to grow tired of pretending to mess up when he opens the window blinds. He also wants them to add a video description that says that he does know how to open blinds, as if he’s expecting collective online bullying. In Shouta’s opinion, Tensei is under the mistaken impression that anyone will actually care enough to leave any kind of comment on that video. Joke’s quiz is a “which person from our team would you get along more with, based on your personality”, and they all take it before coming to the conclusion that the only outcome possible is Joke herself. The result page shows a picture of her face so big that it crashes their website.

But what makes all of it worth it, in Shouta’s humble opinion, is the Midoriya kid. He’s using Midnight’s computer because it’s the only one with an editing program, and he’s sweating hard enough that the keyboard is glossy. Shouta is certain that the kid has actually permanently deleted one of Midnight’s files while fumbling around with the mouse (over which he apparently has a very small amount of control) while Midnight was filming. She looked in a lot of pain, like only deeply ingrained professionalism was preventing her from dunking the kid through the window then dumping her keyboard in hand sanitizer. That was even before the kid made the screen topple over the table, but Shouta isn’t about to get into that.

It's around that time, when he’s slurping coffee and watching chaos unfurl with deep satisfaction, that he gets the text.

[Hizashi] I left this morning!

Attached to it is a selfie of Hizashi in some countryside full of yellow fields. Shouta can see him from the top of his head to just below his neck.

He's unable to focus on Hizashi’s face.

[Shouta] What are you wearing?

[Hizashi] slow down, I’m not even in the bedroom yet

[Shouta] Ah, ah.

The next picture confirms the feeling of dread creeping in his stomach. It’s taken so that Hizashi’s entire upper body is visible. There is a black turtleneck, which is alright enough if you’re going for middle aged philosophy professor, but with it… with it is the most monstrous overall Shouta has ever seen. It’s glinting in the sun like pearl, a mix of blue and purplish colors. It looks made of some kind of flexible plastic. And demonic intent.

[Shouta] Is it something that is legally sold? Do they have the right to do that?

[Hizashi] actually I had to order this from a fashion house in Japan

[Hizashi] I can get one for you if you want, we’ll have matching outfits

Shouta would, obviously, rather die.

[Shouta] Why are you even wearing this in the middle of nowhere? You want to look good for the scarecrows?

[Hizashi] you’re saying I look good?

Shouta sighs. Deeply.

[Shouta] You’d look good even in Yu-Gi-Oh’s pajamas. You know it.

He hopes it’s not going to give Hizashi worse fashion ideas. Common decency would force him to block his number, and he rather likes the guy.

[Hizashi] ahahah

[Hizashi] I’m holding a stream at 7pm to tell the gang about my trip

[Hizashi] I gotta be dressed fancy

[Shouta] Poor them.

Yet he now knows for sure what he’ll be doing at 7pm.

[Hizashi] you’ll watch it, right?

[Shouta] With my eyes closed, maybe.

Midnight wants him to make a group tarot reading before they end the filming, and Shouta’s feeling benevolent enough that he actually agrees to it easily. She does look quite pitiful. Her office chair is now missing a wheel, and Shouta is left to wonder how Midoriya managed to do that.

“The celestial bodies tell me you’re going to gain confidence,” he tells Midoriya before he draws a card. It’s the Hermit, which kinda defeats his point.

“It takes bravery to follow your own path,” he adds, waving the card to distract attention from how sad and alone the Hermit looks. Then he puts it back under the deck.

“You should take some time off,” Shouta tells Midnight as he draws the next card. It’s the King, which doesn’t make much sense either. Shouta supposed that asking for a card depicting an overworked office worker would be too much.

Midnight raises her eyebrows at the card.

“The King doesn’t work,” Shouta explains. “ He leaves it to his underlings.”

Then he realizes how much it’s not a clever thing to say when you’re one of the underlings. So he quickly adds:

“But the stars also point out that doing your work yourself is the best way to be sure that it’s done correctly.”

Toshinori laughs, and the sound must be relaxing to Midoriya because he smiles too.

Joke says:

“You know you’re supposed to make predictions after you’ve actually seen the card, right?”

“My mind’s eyes see it before my mortal’s eyes,” Shouta shoots back. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Midoriya even laughs a little at that, and Shouta hopes that he’ll actually gain confidence one day. He’s a good kid.

Shouta predicts Joke an urgent need to help her colleagues in the next week (“the Chariot! Pretty straightforward”). Then Tensei makes a disbelieving noise so Shouta predicts him premature baldness, to teach him not to mess with the cosmic boss. The he predicts Toshinori nice things, make sure to remove Joke’s quiz from his “ready to be released” folder, and they’re done for the day.

In his evening stream, Hizashi is standing in a very green field and his overall is catching the orange light of the setting sun. Shouta can’t find it in him to resent the overall after that.

The “goofy video” is released two days later, and it gets mild attention – not low enough to cast a gloomy mood over the office, but not high enough to do it again soon, or so Shouta hopes.

Then Shouta forgets all about the video, because he gets a text.

[Hizashi] you’re free to call?

Shouta looks around. It’s almost noon, almost the lunch break, and he has to wait for Midnight to be free to brainstorm for the next quiz anyway, now that they’re doing this “everything is linked” strategy.

So he exits the building.

[Shouta] Sure.

“Help me get out of here,” Hizashi says the minute Shouta takes the call, “there are too many things to learn.”

“Oh no, your teacher is actually teaching you things?”

“I’ve barely even sung yet! It’s all about theory and genres and whatever. I’ve never heard about that and it didn’t stop me from having a band.”

Shouta grins. The sky is very blue, outside. He sees a teenager walking with a hot-dog and it makes him hungry.

“You called me to complain,” he states as he walks up to the hot-dog stand. Then, reflecting on it: “you called me in the middle of my workday to complain about your vacations.”

“It’s an additional professional formation,” Hizashi says a bit haughtily. “It’s covered as business expenses, actually.”

“Do you actually separates between business expenses and personal expenses?” Shouta asks mockingly as he hands the hot-dog woman his credit card.

“Well, of course. I have two separate bank accounts.”

“You have… why would you even?”

He bites into the hot-dog in his free hand. It tastes fantastic.

“Because it’s important to separate between private and professional life.”

Shouta grins.

“Very true. I’ll rename you Work Present Mic on my phone right away.”

“Very funny.”

“I know. Speaking of which, have you seen the new company video?”

“Ah, no. I didn’t notice you uploaded something.”

“And I watched your stream!”

“How the tables turn.”

Hizashi sounds very pleased, which pleases Shouta, so honestly it’s a win-win situation here. He finds a bench down the street and sits there, near a fountain.

“When are you coming back?” he asks.

“You miss me too much?”

 “You’re the one who called.”

Hizashi conveniently ignores that part.

“In a few days. I’ll come back later here.” Then, whining: “I can’t stand this teaching for too long.”

“You must have been a joy of a student in college.”

“They were lucky to have me.”

Shouta makes a non-committal noise in his hot-dog. It tastes very good. Or it has something to do with the company, maybe.

“What are you eating?”

“A tiny piece of heaven,” Shouta says with entire objectivity. “A hot-dog.”

Hizashi snorts:

“You mean that fake plastic meat in the limp bread?”

“You’re going straight to hell,” Shouta points out (someone has to warn the guy).

He finishes his hot-dog and yeah, even Hizashi’s derogatory (and totally unwanted) opinion hasn’t made it any less perfect. Contradictory spirit actually makes it taste even better.

“Sure,” Hizashi answers, not sounding very moved by the promise of eternal damnation. “So what is the new video about?”

“Go watch it. It’s atrocious.”

“You’re in it?”

“Sadly.”

“Then I will.”

Shouta laughs.

“To make fun of me?”

“To see your face.”

It’s unexpectedly sweet.

“We should make a video call next time.”

Shouta isn’t a phone call person. He’s never tried video calls, but if he takes a wild guess he’s pretty sure that he’s not a video call person either. But it’s Hizashi, so he says “yeah, sure”.

“Nice! Okay, I gotta go. It was nice hearing your voice. I’ll tell you what I think of the video.”

Shouta nods to no one, feeling pretty content.

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” Hizashi answers softly.

[Hizashi] would you read my future?

He could be mocking, or genuinely wondering what Shouta thinks. He could very well be doing both.

[Shouta] I predict more singing.

[Hizashi] nice

[Hizashi] more followers too?

[Shouta] As long as you don’t ruin your health for them.

[Hizashi] cool. Anything else?

[Shouta] More terrible clothes, sadly.

Although Shouta thinks he’s reaching a point where he might actually be disappointed to never see again Hizashi wear things like hoodies made of tape or something. It sounds like a point if no return. He’s fine with that.

[Hizashi] and you to mock me about it?

Shouta smiles.

[Shouta] Yeah. Of course.

Then Hizashi sends him a heart, an actual heart emote like they’re in high school, and Shouta… once he finds where the emotes are, he’s embarrassingly fast to send one back.

Chapter Text

Hizashi comes back on Sunday. 

Shouta knows the exact time, because Hizashi calls him from the car. When he grabs his phone he sees a camera icon next to Hizashi's number, so he understands what will happen to him a few seconds before a face actually appears on his screen.

"Hi," Hizashi says.

He has a huge smile. The seat behind him is dark leather, a very fancy thing.

"Yo," Shouta answers.

"I'm not bothering you?"

"Well I'm in the middle of my book, so a little, but I'll try to find some attention span to spare for you."

"Liar," Hizashi says. "You're happy to see me."

He doesn't look like he has one doubt about that, and his confidence should be annoying, but why would he doubt it? He's been sending Shouta heart emotes now before he goes to sleep, and Shouta sends them back. They haven't talked about it yet, though.

"Yes. I am. You called my bluff. Can we meet?"

They need to talk about it, of course, this new development, but Shouta wants it to be face to face.

"Sure. I have a video to make at home now but after that I'm all yours."

Hizashi still has that shit-eating grin. Shouta can't help but smile a little.

"I can invite you over, if you want. Unless you want it to be at your place."

"Invite me over? Us two alone? And to say I haven't even met your parents..."

Shouta looks at him through the camera, through the phone, and regrets that Hizashi isn't here with him already.

"Maybe they're here. Maybe I'm inviting you so you can meet them."

Hizashi laughs, a whole-body thing, and his camera shakes a little. 

"Yeah, alright. Send me your address. I can be there in two hours."

Hizashi rings his intercom a good fifteen minutes before the two hours, and Shouta is in the process of finishing his book. He never likes to be disturbed when he reaches the end of a book. This time, he doesn't mind.

Hizashi is standing on his doorway, in the dark blue wool jacket that Shouta loves, and his hair is liquid gold in the electric light of the hallway. He seems happy.

"Hi again."

"I hope my flat isn't too small for your taste," Shouta answers as a greeting. "I have to warn you that my couch is pretty ancient, before you get triggered and run away."

"You know I was a student at some point right? I had to choose between buying ketchup or toothpaste everytime."

A pause, then:

"I usually chose ketchup."

"Your teeth seem to have recovered just fine."

"Thanks," Hizashi says, showing off his very white teeth.

He puts a hand on Shouta's shoulder and guides him toward the couch as if the flat was his. Shouta doesn't fight it. Sometimes he feels like letting Hizashi do whatever he wants and see where it takes them.

When they sit their thighs are touching, and Shouta is pretty sure that they're both very aware of it.

"I'm sorry about changing our relationship before discussing it with you," Hizashi starts. "I usually do things in the right order."

It's a bit pompous, if you ask Shouta, but he's not about to criticize what makes Hizashi comfortable.

"Alright, let's talk about it."

Hizashi twists his upper body to face Shouta, and leans his elbow on the back of the couch.

"I like you. I'm sure you noticed. I like talking to you. I'd like us to become closer, but I want to be sure that we're seeing this the same way."

Shouta studies his face, and Hizashi holds his gaze. For a few moments they stay like this. Hizashi is handing him something precious, a part of his heart, but doing so with the same dedication he has for each thing in which he involves himself truly. It feels gratifying to suddenly become a part of those things. Or maybe it's been like that for a while already, and Shouta hadn't realized it before. He doesn't deem himself an oblivious man, and he's definitely noticed Hizashi's attraction to him for some time, but if it had been up to him... he's not sure they would've had a discussion like this, that they would've discussed status. But maybe those things need to be talked about openly.

"I think we're seeing it the same. I'm open to starting something with you, if you want it too. It's no pressure, though. I'll be happy as long as we keep talking."

Hizashi's look is fond. 

"We can try dating, and we'll see how it works out. If it doesn't, we'll stay friends."

And that's the thing, right? Shouta holds too tight onto what he has. Shouta's afraid of changes. Friendships last longer than relationships. There's something terrifying in thinking that one month of lame dating followed by a break up could make them lose contact forever. So Hizashi's proposition makes a lot of sense to him. 

"Let's do that," he agrees. "Let's allow ourselves to make mistakes and to go back if we must."

Then, he adds with a slow smile:

"I want the freedom to change my mind if you're a terrible kisser."

Hizashi sighs.

"I don't kiss on the first date and we haven't even had one yet."

"I beg to differ. You bought me a drink, it must count for something."

"I bought you a whole bottle," Hizashi corrects just for the sake of it.

Shouta's about to answer but he stops. Hizashi has let his head fall against the back of the couch. He's grinning at the ceiling like an idiot, then he turns his head towards Shouta.

"I'm glad I agreed to do that weird collab thing with your team," he says.

"I'm not sure I'm glad I filmed it, but I guess it did me more good than harm."

Hizahi shakes his head.

"Always the charmer."

"You're better than me at this, I'm sorry. I'm not so good at talking feelings."

Shouta deflects emotions often, he’s aware of it. He adds:

"I do like you, though."

"If I wasn't so sure of it I wouldn't have risked it. But I don't mind hearing you say it." Hizahi smiles at him again. "Let's take things slow. Before anything else, let's schedule our first date. You free tomorrow evening? I can bring you to the eco-friendly district, I love the vibe there."

Shouta has been to that district exactly once since it rose from the ground a few years ago. It was expensive, snobbish, and way too clean and proper. Not a good memory altogether. Yet, of course, he agrees. 

When they say goodbye Hizashi lets his hand linger on Shouta's shoulder, his fingers so warm, one of them brushing Shouta's collarbone, but he doesn't do anything further, and neither does Shouta. 

Here's the thing. They met by chance, they started talking on an impulse. Then when they met again it was a bit less of a chance, and when they kept talking it was less of an impulse. Whatever they'll do now, he doesn't want it to have anything to do with chance or impulse.

Doing things in the right order it is. 

But waiting for the evening feels like a lot to ask of someone.

"How does my love life go today?" he asks Toshinori on Monday. 

Toshinori glances at his notes.

"Lychees are hard on the inside and soft on the outside, and sometimes that's how life is supposed to go."

"Figures."

He sits at his desk, opens his notepad and turns on his computer.

[Shouta] Do you expect me to wear something tacky in case we see someone you know?

The answer is immediate. Maybe his messages have a special notification on Hizashi's phone now - the thought makes him smile.

[Hizashi] wdym?

[Shouta] Are people in jeans and tee shirts allowed in your inner circles?

[Hizashi] my bodyguards don't let underdressed people get too close to me, sry

Shouta makes a note to wear the most plain, dull white tee-shirt he owns.

"So Shouta," Midnight says right behind him, "how far are you on the quiz?"

Shouta swiftly locks his phone and grabs the notepad with a very professionally invested gesture, or so he hopes.

"First question is about the type of sweet, like you said. Chocolate, chewing-gum, spicy or jello. For the second question..."

He squints at the page.

"I went with "what's your favourite hobby at home", and the answers... Ah yeah, are you vetoing the word slavery? About the Oompa Loompas."

"He was paying them," Toshinori interjects. "In sweets."

Shouta shrugs, waving his pen at him.

"Thus robbing them of the possibility of ever leaving him, because they weren't earning any money for food, shelter, or even a trip back home. And they weren't acculturated enough to our system to realize it. It's slavery of the body and slavery of the mind."

He spent a moment researching it. He read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, of course, but then he had to look at the movie adaptations and he's always unsure about musical movies, doesn't understand the point, but some themes are interesting. 

"You're assuming that they couldn’t have any agency based on your own cultural standards," Toshinori answers. "It's patronizing."

"Isn't it supposed to be a quiz about candy-made furniture?" Joke asks from behind the cardboard packages on her desk.

"What would be your ideal Wonka factory's furniture, exactly," Midnight answers, and Shouta can see that she's glad to get back into topic. "I have to start the photo montages quick enough so it's nice if you can have the questions finished and tested by Wednesday morning. And please no, not the word slavery. Maybe use underpaid labor instead."

"You would've made a great politician," Shouta snorts.

"Probably. But lucky for you I'm here instead, right? Or you would have to photoshop candy furniture by yourself."

He nods, although he disagrees. If she wasn't here, actually, if she wasn't so proactive and always getting new ideas for Nedzu, Shouta would still be doing his painting reviews. Or, even, he'd be still doing the modern rewritings of old pieces, the very first job he had in the company. It had been some fun, with Dante especially. But he has to admit that he would've been bored, after a time. He might even get to the point of admitting that it would've been the same with the paintings. Maybe he's glad that she's here and giving him the opportunity to change. He's feeling a lot of things, those days. 

[Shouta] Can I get there with the bus, or do they gouge out the eyes of anyone not using a fancy recycled bike to go there?

Shouta is actually already on the bus when he sends the message. He feels like talking to Hizashi though. What's really silly is that they're about to meet, yet he still wants to call him on the phone.

[Hizashi] you can come by bus

[Hizashi] I know your address so I'll be able to guide you back home when you're blind

Shouta grins.

He reaches the giant rusty metal boot advertising the entrance to the district a few minutes before the meeting time. Everything is as he remembers. The district is set in the outskirts of the city, built over an ancient industrial site near the river, so it's very spacious. The streets are wide, full of artisanal stands and wooden bar chairs and tables. A simple look around confirms Shouta that any pizza slice here is worth half his monthly income, but they're probably made by a real Italian chef using imported Italian flour or whatever, so the pizzeria must feel justified to steal from everyone. And for the beer they probably use real Irish brewers. And for the snobbish atmosphere, real French professionals. 

Alright, it's not a district that Shouta is very fond of. Yet, a minute later, it suddenly becomes the best place he's ever been to.

Hizashi is walking towards him and the giant metal boot - but (probably) towards him first and foremost. His light hair is loosely falling around his face, half-tied in what must be carefully thought-out “spontaneity”. He wears shiny round blue sunglasses, and a blue shirt covered by a completely transparent plastic jacket. It causes a slightly unexpected mix of emotion in Shouta, aesthetic disgust directly followed by fondness.

He sighs.

"You could've told me if you didn't want to date. No need to purposely screw it up with your clothes."

"Please tell me good afternoon first," Hizashi answers, looking very happy with himself.

Maybe he won't feel too out of place, in that district full of rich hippies pretending they either sew their own clothes or buy it second hand, yet are never seen wearing the sweaters of undefined colours and shapes, or the bright orange flower skirts, that are, in Shouta's experience, the only reliable piece of clothing one can find in most second hand shops.

"Good afternoon," he amends. "Where do you want us to drink?"

"I'll let you choose."

Shouta pretends to look around.

"Ah yeah? Your place, then?"

"Slow down now, let us get to know each other a little before."

He has the audacity to wink at that. Shouta would like to find it ridiculous but somehow the flirting feels different, now that he knows that it's for him only. It's still a bit ridiculous, though, of course, a bit over the top, but he can’t pretend that he didn't know what he was getting himself into.

"Let's do that," he agrees. "But you choose the bar."

They end up in a cozy-looking bar, with soft seats hanging from the ceiling like children's swings. The table, thankfully, is rooted on the ground, so the danger of the drinks tipping over is reduced (though not entirely eliminated, Shouta learns as he tries taking a sip. At least none of the beer spilled on his tee-shirt). Hizashi seems more at ease with the whole system. 

"You come here often?" 

Hizashi twirls his white wine in its glass, smells it, then takes a sip.

"I suppose, yeah. I like the atmosphere."

"I should've known", Shouta muses.

This place is all about standards and that's what Hizashi Yamada is about, isn't it? From sound recording to clothes picking to career handling, everything. He’s made from standards. And so this man would actually agree to pay double for empanadas, for the promise of a Spanish chef.

Hizashi rolls his eyes:

"You're going to criticize me again, aren't you?"

Shouta looks at him across the table, sees his own face reflected in those ridiculous glasses, and shrugs:

"I thought I was, but actually I won't." 

Hizashi  grins.

"Lucky me. But I'm intrigued now."

"Lucky me, then. Now I get to be all mysterious."

Hizashi shakes his head with a laugh. Then he takes a sip of wine and closes his eyes briefly.

"The wine is great, wanna try it?"

"If you try the beer."

The wine is too sweet for Shouta and the beer is too sour for Hizashi, so they don't talk about swapping drinks again.

"You like this district then?"

"Yeah. I usually come here with some friends of mine, or even alone."

Shouta falls back on his cushion, swinging it a bit. The sun is warming up his face.

"Dates, too?"

"A few times. Actually, the last man I dated used to be a waiter here."

Shouta hums.

"What you wouldn't do for free wine."

"Or exposure," Hizashi muses with a chin gesture towards Shouta. 

"Yeah, all thanks to my company. You should probably split your income with me now that I think of it."

"I can pay for your next beer. Maybe." A slight pause. "Also, would you mind if I took a picture?"

Shouta recoils slightly. It's instinctive.

"Of what?"

Now that he expects it, he can see how Hizashi falters for a split second before backtracking.

"You know, our orders. As long as the bar isn't recognisable, I guess."

"You wanted to take a picture of us?" Shouta summarizes.

Hizashi shrugs helplessly. 

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I'm not trying to pressure you."

"For your Instagram?"

"I mean, I guess I'm used to posting photos of my friends. I use Instagram as a sort of storybook to keep track of my life, you know? What matters to me at the time. Or who."

There had been a lot of people on the little Instagram squares of Hizashi's profile. Shouta had assumed that it was a way for Hizashi to show off that he knew this or that famous person. 

"We can take a picture if you like," Shouta relents, "but not to put on the internet, okay? And you remove the plastic horror coat."

Hizashi relaxes and shrugs off his jacket.

"Yeah, sure, alright! Come sit next to me."

The cushions are big for one person, but a little small for two, and the chain holding the swing to the ceiling squeaks when Shouta sits close to Hizashi.

"Sit still," Hizashi tells him, close to his ear. There's wine on his breath. He slides slightly so that his arm is behind Shouta's back, his hand on Shouta's shoulder.

Shouta puts his own hand on Hizashi's waist - partly for the picture, partly because he likes to feel the solid weight of Hizashi and the softness of his shirt behind his fingers, and partly to fluster Hizashi. Hizashi turns to him, grins, and turns back before snapping his pictures. He is not a man easily flustered.

The weather is nice and they take another drink before buying pizza slices to-go in one of the stands. 

"The mozzarella is made with real buffalo milk," Hizashi tells Shouta, an information to which he's not sure how enthusiastically he's supposed to react, so he nods with an inarticulate approving noise.

He doesn't notice a real difference with the traditional supermarket mozzarella but he supposes that either his palate isn't educated enough, or his brain isn't tricked enough in thinking that there is a very important difference. But there is cream inside the crust of the pizza, which is an interesting discovery.

They eat on the river bank, on the concrete, legs dangling over the water. The air is fresher there, and an indie song that Shouta can't identify is playing in the background from some bar.

"So how do you like it here?" Hizashi asks after removing the pizza crumbs from his mouth with a napkin. 

"It's better than I expected," Shouta admits.

"I'm glad to know."

Shouta watches him lean back, his hands on the concrete and his sunglasses reflecting the water. He raises his pizza-free hand and snatches the sunglasses from Hizashi's nose. Hizashi blinks at him.

"I wanted to see your eyes," Shouta states plainly, and maybe Hizashi is a little flustered now, so that's nice. 

"No problemo." He takes back the sunglasses and folds them in his shirt pocket. "The sun will surely make me blind but I'll endure it for you."

"If you're willing to go that far on a first date, I can't imagine the second."

"So I passed? We're having a second date?"

"Who knows, this one isn't over yet. There are still plenty of opportunities for you to screw it up."

Hizashi hums.

"By the by, did I ever tell you how I think women shouldn’t be allowed to vote?"

"Ah, ah."

Shouta lets his gaze wander to the reflection on the water of the buildings on the opposite side of the river, blurry colorful shapes swaying with the current. Then, he gets up.

"Alright, why don't you give me a tour of the place?"

Hizashi crumples his napkin and puts it in his pocket. It's funny, because the pocket is transparent. You can see the tomato stains through it.

"If you help me get up."

He holds out his hand and Shouta jerks it to help him to his feet. 

"Your hand is still greasy," he says to keep his mind from the fact that it's the first time he's had Hizashi's hand in his own, and he had pictured it with way less pizza grease.

"Sorry," Hizashi says, not looking very sorry. "Come, I'll show you around."

There's an indoor skatepark mainly full with kids and teenagers, but Shouta does spot a few adults showing off graceful skate figures. 

"You know a little about skateboards?" Hizashi asks him.

"I know it uses little wheels."

Hizashi grabs one of the used skateboards stacked near the door, and drops it on the ground with a clatter.

"Want me to teach you?"

Shouta debates on saying no, because ridiculing himself isn't something that one looks forward to on first dates, but Hizashi looks gleeful.

"Sure, go for it."

"Okay, hop on. I'll keep it still for you."

Hizashi kneels on the ground and grabs the end of the skateboard. Shouta hesitantly stands on it, gripping Hizashi's shoulder for balance. It does not bode well.

"Well," Hizashi says, "you're good to go now! You just have to push on the ground with your foot."

He gets up and Shouta removes his grasp from his shoulder just in time to avoid toppling over. The treacherous vehicle wobbles. It does not bode well at all. Shouta muses on the things one would do for love, from murdering one's stepmother to, apparently, this, and half-heartedly pushes on the ground with one foot. One second later the whole world tips over and he all but crashes into Hizashi's arms behind him. The skateboard swiftly rolls away, unperturbed by the loss of its driver. Hizashi bursts out laughing.

"Careful," he warns. "You have to distribute your weight evenly. Want to try again?"

Shouta tries again. He grabs the skateboard with intent and puts his foot at the front of the board - probably too far, in retrospect, because he’s thrown forward and he stumbles to his knees in a stupid fashion. 

It goes like this a bit longer. In any other circumstances he would have stopped after the first fall, he wouldn't even have started in the first place… but Hizashi is clearly enjoying himself fantastically, dividing his time between catching Shouta as he stumbles, providing useless advice, and cackling at his misery.

"You're improving already," he assures Shouta as Shouta trips himself. The fact that Hizashi is wheezing from laughter as he says it undermines the compliment.

Shouta is pretty sure that it's less due to him actually improving than to Hizashi lowering his expectations. But he actually is better than before at rolling around without crashing on the floor. The children somehow strangely still step aside to avoid him, though.

"Okay," Shouta says as he goes to fetch the skateboard for the fifth time. "Now you show me."

Hizashi's giggles recedes. He puts his hands in his jacket pocket (they’re still visible) and smiles.

"If you're tired of it we can go somewhere else. There are arcade games not far from here."

Shouta hands him the skateboard.

"No, show me how you do it. So I can learn."

Hizashi takes a step backwards.

"You did well for a first time. You don't have to compare yourself to me."

Shouta squints. A horrible suspicion dawns on him. He steps forward, the skateboard brandished like a blunt weapon with wheels.

"Very unlike you to avoid showing off. And each of your advice has been less than helpful. And you've been laughing way too much."

He drops the skateboard at Hizashi's feet. The wheels clank on the floor.

"Do you actually know how to use that damn thing?"

"Yeah, sure I do."

The harder Shouta glares, the bigger Hizashi's grin gets.

"But it would be rude to make you feel small on the first date, right? Come on, let's go."

He turns to the door:

"And don't forget to put the skateboard back with the others!"

When Shouta joins him outside of the skatepark, he is so indignant that it takes him a moment to find his voice.

"You don't know how to skateboard?"

"Neither do you," Hizashi says cheerily.

"I humiliated myself!"

"No, no, don't say it like that."

Shouta stares at him, and Hizashi stares back.

"Alright, yeah, you did. But I enjoyed it immensely."

"So that's your ideal date?" Shouta says disbelievingly. "A hazing ritual?" 

Maybe he would be more mad, if Hizashi hadn't been there to catch him each time he stumbled, to haul him back to his feet.

Hizashi smiles sheepishly.

"Let me make it up to you. What can I get you for dessert?"

Shouta looks around, all thoughts of skateboards wheeling away from his mind.

"Didn't that pizza shop bake their own tiramisus?"

One of the most showy parts of the district, next to the three vines that probably grow absolutely no grapes and are there just for show, is the old train wagon turned into an art exhibit. Hizashi and Shouta eat their tiramisu on the bench facing it. Neither of them feels like actually entering the wagon, although Shouta knows that Joke would just love it. Behind it, on the river, the sun is setting.

"That place matters a lot to me," Hizashi says quietly. "I have a lot of memories attached to it. I'm glad I made new ones with you."

"Please forget the part where I crashed on my face repeatedly in a skatepark," Shouta mumbles as he takes a spoonful of tiramisu.

"You're joking. I hadn't laughed that much in a while."

Shouta glares halfheartedly, then his face softens:

"Alright, then. You got my authorization to remember it. But please remember this also."

He slowly leans towards Hizashi's face, and Hizashi freezes entirely. Shouta grins and tilts his head until his nose nuzzles at Hizashi's ear. Then he pecks him on the cheek.

"Thanks for today," he whispers. "I had fun."

When he leans away, Hizashi is looking at him with something entirely too tender.

"Fancy that. Me too."

Chapter Text

What starts it all is a piece of Hizashi's clothes. That’s a surprise in itself. Ask Shouta, Hizashi's clothes are usually what things end with - common decency, for one; his relationship too, maybe, if Shouta had more self-respect.

The raincoat that Hizashi wears in that little café today is of a pale cream colour. A long, slim plastic tube is fixed to it, looping along the sleeves, the front and the back of the coat. A pink fluid sluggishly surges in that tube like an intravenous infusion. Shouta is fascinated by it - in the same way he's fascinated by dogs eating their own feces. Incredulous, slightly disgusted wonder.

"You know, the first rule of chivalry is to focus on your date's face."

Shouta watches the liquid swirl along Hizashi's right arm, mesmerized, before he finally looks up.

"I thought it was to not embarrass your date to death."

Hizashi raises his arm to his eyes, looking at the pink liquid coming and going.

"I should’ve known you wouldn’t appreciate the greatness. The designer who made it tailor-makes each coat. She only sells very few items a year."

"I’m surprised she manages to sell any."

Hizashi squints at him long enough for a few pink bubbles to cross his whole sleeve and disappear in his back, which is ridiculous enough to make Shouta laugh, which makes Hizashi smile in turn. Then he takes a sip out of his boba tea - jelly pearls, purple beverage, attention-catching enough that Shouta knows Hizashi would never miss the opportunity. It reminds him of those goat fetuses in colourful liquids in science museums.

"I’m convinced that everyone you know owns at least one extravagant outfit you wouldn’t approve of."

"You and I don't keep company with the same kind of people."

"And yet I'm still right,” Hizashi says with one of his matter-of-fact tones that makes Shouta want to prove him wrong. “Speaking of unsellable items, you finished that bizarre thing you were into?"

"It’s not unsellable,” Shouta protests. “It’s simply marketed towards a very niche category of readers."

"Oh, really? Just because it’s a series of wonky verses extracted from the made-up bible of an over-complicated horse adventure? I never would’ve guessed."

“Just when I thought that coat was the worse way you could disrespect me today, you call epic medieval tales “horse adventures”. But I’ll forgive you.”

“How merciful.”

“Just like King Henry the Magnanimous forgave the Beaumont dynasty for their crimes of lèse majesté."

Hizashi groans out loud.

“Each time I wonder if I should write a song about you, you say those ridiculous things and I can’t get the right vibe for romance."

Shouta brushes his hand over the back of Hizashi’s on the table, smiling slightly.

"I hope I’ll give you other things to write about. "

Hizashi twists his hand, catching Shouta’s fingers.

"I don’t doubt you will."

Shouta wishes he was young and romantic enough that Hizashi’s soft smiles would turn around in his head like clown fishes in a fishbowl. But on the next day, all he can think about is that stupid coat.

“What is the weirdest outfit you own?” he asks Toshinori at the coffee machine, rather cautiously. It’s a loaded question. He doesn’t wish to have a bad opinion on Toshinori, to learn about horse pyjamas with real hoofs or whatever, and yet he has to know. Hizashi says everyone owns clothes he wouldn’t like, and he refuses to believe that.

“A suit, I suppose,” Toshinori muses. “I mean, it’s weird to own it, I never have use for it.”

That is both underwhelming and very satisfying, and Shouta is ready to end his inquiries there when Joke snorts in her mug of tea.

“So your suit is weirder than that thing you wore when I saw you at the movies with your niece? Must be quite the suit.”

"What thing?" Shouta asks warily.

"Oh, you would’ve loved it. Correct me if I’m wrong, Toshinori, but there was a sort of hood covered in tacky fake fur."

"A lion’s mane," Toshinori points out.

"Yeah, well, a very sick lion. Six days left to live, max. Anyway, there was a scarf with it, an orange thing with “roar” written on it. In capital letters. With a lot of 'a'."

"Eight of them, at least,” and Toshinori seems proud. "But I’m not sure that’s what Shouta meant by weird. It’s a fun outfit, that’s all."

"It does sound a bit weird," Shouta says mournfully.

Joke raises her eyebrows.

"Wait until I tell you about the paw-gloves."

"My niece loves them."

"She didn’t seem much older than 4."

"There's scientific evidence that wisdom and good tastes begins to develop in babies around the 30^th month."

Shouta’s pretty sure there isn't. But it’s not the worst thing coming out of this debacle of a discussion, so he lets it slide.

"I think Joke’s right. I do think it's weirder than the suit."

"If you think fun outfits are weird, you don’t want to hear about the blobfish one."

"You’re right,” Shouta sighs, “I don’t."

For good measure, he sighs again.

"But maybe I must. Hizashi claims that everyone owns at least one weird outfit. I refuse to adhere to his view of society."

Toshinori bursts out laughing and Joke nods thoughtfully. Then, she finishes her tea.

"It's giving me a great idea. Want to hear it?"

"Of course!" Toshinori says.

Shouta shrugs his shoulders very, very slowly. She hits him on the arm with her mug, which is more painful than one could expect.

"New weekly idea," she cries out suddenly, turning toward the room. That seems to catch Midnight and Tensei's attention more surely than the perspective of having fun at coffee break. Shouta thinks of those retired spies with PTSD, waking up at night in cold sweat to the remembrance of Kalashnikov battles or whatever.

He can see himself at 70, woken up from a peaceful old man slumber by a "new weekly idea" in Joke's shrill voice.

"Do we have something planned for next week?"

"Of course,” Tensei says a bit haughtily. “It was discussed last Friday at the meeting."

"I had the afternoon off," Joke says.

The number of days off that Joke is able to take seems suspiciously high to Shouta, but if she keeps track of them as precisely as of her giveaway lists, it shouldn't be surprising. Tensei looks puzzled.

"They still haven't updated you? With a coffee break so long?"

"That defeats the concept of a break, I should say," Shouta mutters with a pointed slurp of coffee.

Tensei glares at him. Shouta spoke low enough that Tensei can't have heard his exact words, but Tensei visibly doesn't believe that Shouta was lamenting on how shortsighted it was not to debrief that meeting in depth over coffee.

"In any case, yes, we have something planned,” Tensei finally says. “Next Tuesday is the International Day of Squids. I was thinking of a funny squid week."

"I actually found a very active squid forum listing everything squid related, from pyjamas to card games to recipes. I plan to interview its owner."

Midnight sounds unreasonably happy with this squid-filled prospect.

"You, Joke, must find a decent number of squid plushies to get sent before the end of the week. As for the both of you," Tensei adds vaguely to Toshinori and Shouta, "work your magic."

Squid quizzes. It gets worse and worse. Shouta hopes they're all impatient to know which of the squid's tentacles they identify with.

"Alright,” Joke says carefully. “Let me rephrase my question. Do we have something good planned for next week?"

Toshinori bursts out laughing, and even Midnight can't help a smile. Tensei seems too busy being baffled to feel offended.

"But it's going to be Squid Day! We should capitalize on it! It doesn't happen often."

"I'd deduce once a year,” Shouta notes as he finishes his coffee. “Without taking too many risks."

"What's your idea, Joke?" Midnight asks to cover the sound of Tensei's displeased growl.

"It's an idea given by Present Mic himself," Joke starts, which is so far removed from the truth that it's essentially a lie. But it effectively cuts out any noise from Tensei. All his rage is forgotten, replaced by the sudden golden prospect of limitless popularity. "His theory is that everyone owns at least one weird, unspeakable outfit. Shouta disagrees. We should test it scientifically and use that as a weekly theme."

Shouta finishes rinsing his mug and puts it upside down next to the sink to dry.

"I still think it's not going anywhere. Hizashi only owns weird things but he's a pretentious diva. Toshinori owns one but he was about to be contractually obliged to write a squid-themed horoscope. We're not going with a representative part of the population here."

Joke shrugs.

"Well, I'm not a horoscope lunatic nor a conceited blogger and I own the most perfect disco dress. It's made with a few hundred silver and pink sequins. You should see me at parties, under the spotlights."

She pauses to think.

"Actually, you would have no choice but to see me. It shines so bright it might impair your vision forever."

"Alright,” Shouta concedes. “That is a cursed outfit. But you go to modern art exhibits. Not to mention the Cats hula hoop thing. You're not normal either."

"I suppose if you disqualify everyone disproving your theory, you will never be wrong."

There's no animosity in her tone. Shouta realizes that it's because she has no intention of going back on her idea now, no matter what he says, thus making his arguments inconsequential.

"What about you, Midnight," he sighs.

"I may have something unusual,” she muses. “I don't know if it qualifies, but I bought it in the Museum of advertisement a few years ago."

"I went there once,” Joke snorts. “Anything you bought, I'm pretty sure it qualifies."

"Well, it's an experimental patchwork. An artist cut a few advertising flags and sewed them together in a suit vest.”

She pauses before admitting:

"I don't wear it that often. I think I have Colonel Sanders’ moustache under an armpit."

A short silence follows, the kind of sympathetic silence provoked by such a confession.

Shouta regrets ever bringing out that cursed subject. Hizashi would enjoy that situation tremendously. Tensei clears his throat, and Shouta hopes that he'll be the one to turn the tide. If there ever is someone to own exclusively boring clothes, it’s Tensei.

He's sorely disappointed.

"My brother gifted me a pair of pyjamas that you might like. I have a picture if you want."

He holds them his phone. Tensei, visibly at Christmas, next to a teenager with a huge smile. Both wear the same pyjama top, one of those hoodies with custom pictures stuck on them. Joke did that once with their company logo, and Midnight even made a point of wearing the hoodie during interviews. Sometimes. Less and less those days, now that Shouta thinks of it.

The pattern on those pyjamas is a horrendous garland of small faces. Joke zooms on it. It's a multitude of pictures of Tensei and his brother, either smiling, grimacing or frowning. They're probably mimicking the pattern of another pyjama found online, although they don’t look much at ease. Joke zooms out, giving them again the full picture, the great landscape of desolation.

"How often do you wear this thing?" she finally asks.

"Most of my days off, at home."

Tensei even looks proud, as he always is when he speaks of his little brother.

"No wonder you live alone," Toshinori notes, not unkindly.

"Alright,” Shouta finally says a bit mournfully. “Tensei wins, unless someone manages to convince us that their outfit is worse than his."

"No way I'm entering that competition,” Joke says hastily. “It would be too embarrassing to win to this."

Shouta lets Hizashi make fun of him until he's wheezing from laughter.

"Something from me? You?"

"We're supposed to all come on Monday with horrible clothes..."

"...and your most original top is a grey jumper, right?” Hizashi finishes. “I sympathize. It must clash terribly with all your black shirts."

"Actually,” Shouta muses, “I could say that and get away with bringing a grey jumper. It might even be funny. And I can keep my dignity."

"No no no. You already asked me. Come."

Hizashi’s hand is firm on Shouta's shoulder as he guides him towards his closet, as if to prevent him from running away.

The closet is as terrible as ever. The cyberpunk neon jacket, the transparent coat, the plastic tube raincoat, the red jacket with silver chains, lined with dozens of other things in various levels of normality. Some are even casual, like the black leather jacket or the blue wool jacket that Shouta likes. Sadly, he knows there's no point in asking for those.

"Something's catching your eyes?"

Neon, fluorescent, shimmering fabric.

"The exit door," Shouta deadpans.

Hizashi laughs wholeheartedly and squeezes his shoulder. The whole situation apparently makes him very happy, which, Shouta supposes, is the one good thing coming out of that disaster.

"Go sit on the couch," he finally says when Shouta makes no visible effort to reach for any of the things there. "I'll choose for you."

Shouta walks to the couch and slumps down on it. At least, if Hizashi chooses, he'll be able to put the blame on someone else.

"My turn to makes quizzes," Hizashi grins.

Shouta can see it from here, the way his eyes crease, the laugh lines. It is terribly endearing.

"Go on," he sighs.

Hizashi brushes his hand on the coat hangers pensively.

"I shall determine what jacket or hoodie you will like best, based on a few questions. And don't look at me like that, I won't give you something too terrible."

Shouta eyes him doubtfully.

"We have very different standards."

"Stop worrying,” Hizashi says with the right amount of glee to make Shouta more worried than ever. “Warm colours or cold colours?"

From what Shouta remembers, green is warm, and red is cold.

Unless it’s the opposite.

"What about black? In which category is it?"

"The forbidden category."

Shouta groans, readjusting himself on the pillows.

"Well then. Since it's ruined either way, you pick the colour."

"Magnifico. Two sleeves or more?"

"You know what..." Shouta pretends to stand up and Hizashi quickly puts back whatever he was extracting from the back of the closet.

"Alright, alright. Only two sleeves."

He adds under his breath a "like a baby" that Shouta pretends not to hear. Hizashi keeps rummaging, generating a strange variety of noises - metal clinking, plastic bumping, pieces of wood rattling.

"I'm giving you a special feature, though. Do you prefer light or sound?"

Something makes a sound like piano tiles, in the closet. Shouta shivers.

"Light," he says firmly.

"Hmm. You prefer if it makes a light by itself or if it refracts the light around?"

"What, like endogenous or exogenous light?"

Hizashi shrugs.

"Perhaps that’s how a scholar would frame it. But those people only wear brown turtlenecks anyway. So?"

Shouta sighs.

"Honestly, I don't care. Just show me what you have."

Hizashi's grin turns ferocious, and Shouta adds, begging:

"But have mercy."


Twitter post:

Who would have thought that our new weekly theme would be such a good way to get to know our coworkers better? Tell us all about your most terrible outfit!

[Visual description of the photo] Five people in an open space. Only one man is looking at the camera, smiling tensely. The others are working at their computers. One corner of the picture is almost white, visibly due to the harsh light coming from an overlarge silver jacket.

Interviews:

This is Midnight, and today we’re peeking into the designer's clothes industry. Let anonymous models tell you all about the worse things they had to wear!

Horoscope:

Life is like a closet of designer clothes, you never know what will come next!

Libra: You get the feet-resembling sock, with separate toes and fake toenails! Between a banal shoe and a banal foot lays the delicate, distorted truth. There are often multiple layers to a story, don't be too quick to judge others... or yourself. There's always time to make amends. Or change socks.

Quiz:

A matter of decency: should you really go outside wearing this?

1) How would a child react to you wearing that outfit?
A. Gleeful giggles
B. Unaltered boredom
C. A terrified shriek

2) If you were to ask someone to wear that outfit, what would they answer?
A. "Of course, but only if it's for a party and also I'm wearing a giant mask and a voice changer."
B. "I am wearing the same outfit right now."
C. "Ahah no, anyway, unrelated but could you just maybe erase my number?"

3) If that outfit were a dessert, how would a food critic describe it?
A. Nature gave the chef the precious gifts of originality and imagination, although depriving them of the (perhaps more precious) gift of common sense
B. An eternal classic, as common and flavourful as plain water
C. (The critic refused to eat and left the table. The restaurant was rated quite terribly)

4) In what situation do you typically acquire such an outfit?
A. It involves alcohol, a bad break up or a misplaced will to impress others. Sometimes all three.
B. That outfit isn't bought in shops. It generally spawns quietly in closets, often by group of two or three
C. Unknown. Maybe it's the only online shop which agrees to make deliveries in jails, where you belong

Exclusive giveaway:

Win this week our beautiful poster chart "should I throw that away?", full of useful questions to determine whether your outfit is delightfully quirky or simply demented.

[Hizashi] so what do I get for inspiring your team?

[Shouta] I can give you one of Joke's chart, if you want.

[Shouta] It'll tell you to throw away all your clothes it'll be great.

[Hizashi] if you want to see me naked there are easier ways

[Shouta] Ah ah.

[Shouta] You'll only be able to keep that blue wool jacket, you'll have to wear it all the time.

[Hizashi] you really like it, don't you?

[Hizashi] I can gift it to you if you want

[Shouta] Ah, no. You're missing the point.

[Hizashi] what's the point?

[Shouta] You in it.

[Hizashi] :)