Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

2:37 P.M. Eight more minutes before the plane landed.

Shu exhaled sharply and tucked his phone back into his pocket, scanning the crowd yet again. It was pointless; the person he waited for was still up in Paris airspace, delayed thanks to some confusion on the tarmac. Still, people-watching was enough of a diversion. The sea of humanity frothing outside the airport's main hall was certainly a mixed bag – a wailing child, consoled by an apathetic adult, several lovestruck couples hanging off each other's arms, and another man with impatience written in the lines of his body.

A kindred soul, Shu thought bemusedly. As he watched, another man suddenly burst from the masses and embraced the first with a cry of delight. The crowd quickly swept the two away, but the lasting scene made Shu smile faintly. He and the stranger were kindred souls, waiting for their dear ones to emerge from the maw of the beast.

In Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport's defense, it was less monstrous than some of Japan's airports. Still, Shu thought it was an apt comparison, seeing the traffic flow in and out of the terminals in massive waves and listening to thousands of shouts. The traffic was hideous, though; that couldn't be contested. Thank god he'd walked.

Something dinged overhead, and Shu's heart shot into his throat. He snatched his phone from his pocket, then scowled at the numbers that blinked back at him. 2:40 P.M.

Was he being ridiculous? Yes, absolutely. In a few hours, Shu would look back on his behavior and cringe at his tapping foot and tightly crossed arms. But, for the moment, all he could think was that the airline's website had promised the flight was ahead of schedule, and he really should sue for false information. Shu wouldn't have come out to the airport so early (that was a lie; he would've arrived sooner had he not stopped to take a shower and dress his best) if he'd known-

His phone vibrated.

Shu's fingers navigated to his Messages before his brain consciously registered the sound. Years of habit drew him to the most recent conversation. It had last been active this morning, and now, a new message illuminated the chat.

Mika: the plane landed! i'm officially in Paris

Warmth seeped into Shu's whole body, wrapping around his limbs and making him feel like he was floating. Something pathetically close to a fond smile split his face, and, overwhelmed by an emotion he decidedly didn't address, he rested his forehead against his phone.

Finally.

Then Shu set his difficult emotions aside and tapped out a short response.

Shu: Did you bring any luggage with you?

Three little dots appeared next to Mika's profile picture (a stupid selfie he'd sent months ago), and Shu briefly envisioned the shorter man's concentrated expression. He hurriedly shook the thought aside.

Mika: naw i have my bags with me
Mika: i don't need too much

Logically, Shu was glad they wouldn't have to lug several heavy bags into the city. But a part of him deflated, pricked by loss. Mika... was only staying for a few days. It was all his busy schedule could afford. Shu would make the most of the time, of course, but...

Well. Who was he to complain? He was the one living out in France; Mika had every reason to stay in Japan and tell Shu to come to him.

His phone buzzed again.

Mika: they're letting us disembark now!
Mika: what terminal are you at?

Shu glanced up, scanning the overhead signs. “Borne 8” hung over the nearest set of doors.

Shu: Terminal 8. It's next to the parking structure.

Mika: ok!

The green light next to his picture went dim. For a horrible second, Shu was choked by loneliness and the frantic fear that Mika would just turn around and go home. It faded as quickly as it had come, battered into submission by Shu's logical side, and he pocketed his phone angrily. His nervous habits had started up again. It wasn't that Shu didn't want Mika to see; the shorter man was the only person who'd ever helped Shu through a nervous breakdown. Still, he had to look a little put-together.

And you can't look desperate, of course.

The thought was gone before Shu could really acknowledge it, but he caught the tail end of a teasing tone and cracked a wry smile.

Five minutes ticked by at a snail's pace, welcoming hundreds of people out of the airport and into the Paris sunlight. Shu's skin crawled from the proximity to so many foreign bodies, but he stubbornly shelved his thoughts as best he could. He had to be here.

And then, a gleeful cry carried over the crowd.

“Shu!”

If asked, Shu would've admitted to straightening and immediately searching for the source of the voice. When he finally spotted deep green hair and mismatched eyes, he lifted a hand in greeting. He was rewarded with an enthusiastic wave and a brilliant smile.

What Shu would never admit to was that his stomach twisted into knots, and his heart stuttered, struggling to keep up with the swell of emotions in his chest.

Mika Kagehira materialized from the crowd as if an ethereal force had parted the seas for him. Despite the mass of people surrounding him, he looked pristine, right down to his ruffled hair and blinding smile. One bag was slung over the shoulder, and the other rolled next to him, guided by a tight grip. Unsurprisingly, several people stopped and stared, and a few gawked long after he'd passed them.

None of those bystanders mattered, though. Because Mika hurried towards Shu with a single-minded stride, and his angel's smile widened the closer he got.

You're as beautiful as ever, Kagehira. It's been too long.

Both bags were abandoned a few steps away, and Shu only had time to hear Mika's delighted laugh before the shorter man crashed into him, winding slender arms around his waist and all but nuzzling into him. For a moment, Shu forgot how to breathe. He was powerless against the warmth that'd enveloped his body and the sheer force of affection. Somehow, Mika managed to press even closer, and he tucked his head against Shu's shoulder with a content sigh.

One stuttering heartbeat. Two.

Shu caved. He returned the hug tightly, settling one hand against the small of Mika's back and the other in his hair. The shorter man melted against him, and Shu felt... whole. Each breath was sweeter to his lungs, and a weight he hadn't even noticed finally lifted from his sternum, releasing the pressure of four long months apart.

God, Mika was so warm. His mere presence was thawing the stiffness in Shu's joints, easing his tremors. If he held Mika a little longer, every ache and pain that plagued him would vanish.

No, no, that was far too dangerous. Holding Mika was a privilege; if Shu indulged too long, he'd become addicted.

Ha. As if he wasn't already.

Still, he carefully extracted himself from the shorter man's embrace and gently took Mika by the shoulders, looking him over. Flushed cheeks, healthy skin, and a glow to those dazzling eyes that seemed almost ethereal. “You look well,” Shu decided, and he couldn't stop a faint smile from touching his face.

Mika beamed in return, and Shu's heart did another few leaps. “I feel well,” he laughed, resting his hands atop Shu's. “Man, it's so sunny here. I know it's spring and all, but I expected a breeze or somethin'. I don't even need this sweater.”

The loose sweater hung perfectly from Mika's shoulders, and paired with the tighter-than-normal jeans and the jewelry adorning his fingers and neck, Mika could reasonably be mistaken for a model. People were still gawking, and now, Shu had the presence of mind to be irritated at the attention. He understood, of course, but this was their moment.

“It's good to see you, Shu.”

His annoyance vanished. Those petty stares were meaningless compared to Mika's smile, brilliant and sweet and so achingly fond.

“And you, Mika,” Shu returned softly. Then, just so he could have a couple seconds of breathing room: “Get your bags before someone steals them.”

Mika blinked. Then understanding swept across his face, and he yelped, turning and dashing back to his abandoned luggage. Shu's hands instantly felt cold without Mika's warmth, and his chest still ached at such small suitcases. Was their time together always so limited?

But he smiled as the shorter man hurriedly gathered up his luggage. It was good enough.

Once Mika had retrieved his bags, Shu started down the winding sidewalk that led out of the airport. They'd take a train back into the city, but first, they had to escape the airport's packed lanes of traffic. They set off together, Mika struggling to hold onto his bags and keep up with Shu's long strides. After a few minutes, Shu plucked the rolling suitcase's handle from Mika's loose fingers, and the shorter man shot him a grateful look.

Finally, they escaped the airport's main roads, and the cacophony of cars and pedestrians dimmed into a typical Paris street. Shu exhaled in relief, and Mika rubbed his ears with a wince.

“That's better,” the shorter man mumbled. “I always forget that it's so loud there.” He absently massaged his ears for a few steps, then perked up. “Wait, I get to see your new apartment, right? Aah, I'm looking forward to it! You said you moved away from the city center?”

“Créteil,” Shu agreed. The light turned green, and he and Mika trotted across the street. The train station was nearby, but still a good fifteen minutes of easy walking. “It's a smaller apartment, but you'll still have your own room.”

“Oh, you know I'm fine with anythin'. I'm just happy you let me stay with you.” Mika's smile suddenly gained an edge of mischief. “I woulda thought you'd go to Boulogne-Billancourt,” he added innocently. “Or somethin' around there.”

Shu shot Mika a disparaging look. “Why do you think I moved? There's nothing for me in that part of Paris.”

“Nothin'?”

“Nothing worth enduring that hell for, surely.”

Mika's pleased little smile faded into a frown, and he bobbed his head slightly – a silent understanding not to press. Not yet, anyway. Briefly, Shu thanked whatever gods were listening for giving him a companion who simply accepted his needs. What would his life look like without Mika?

Never mind. He didn't want to consider the possibility.

“You're alert,” Shu noted, gently knocking Mika's ankles with the suitcase and earning a squawk of protest. “How did you escape the jet lag?”

“I flew from Florence!” Mika chirped, the slight already forgotten. “That made it easier. A two-hour flight instead of- er-” Mika scrunched up his nose. “Whatever it woulda been from Japan. I don't think I coulda survived that.”

“It's a long flight back. Don't you have another Live soon?”

Mika jutted out his bottom lip in something unfairly close to a pout. “You hafta stop remembering the things I tell you about,” he complained, and Shu allowed himself a pleased smirk. “Yeah. Next week.”

His good humor vanished. Next week? It was already Thursday. Was Mika only going to be here for a long weekend? Shu had been so excited when the other man had announced his visit that he'd never thought to ask anything except when Mika's plane would arrive. Oh, how the tables turned. From the one flying back and forth to the one left behind.

A warm hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist, and Shu flinched, startled. Then he registered it as Mika's grounding touch. When he glanced over, mismatched eyes watched him worriedly.

“It's not until Saturday,” Mika murmured, unbearably gentle. “I'm gonna stay as long as I can.”

Two years ago, Shu would've been irate at the soft tone – at the insinuation that he was delicate or needed Mika to soothe him. But a lot had changed since then. Being 19 years old seemed as far away as being a toddler, and Shu couldn't even muster up the slightest bit of acidity. With any luck, they could stretch this visit to a week.

“You're always welcome,” Shu said, and Mika grinned. “What are you doing for your next Live?”

“Mm, it's a small gig for charity! I'm gonna teach fans how to do embroidery, and if enough people show up, I can perform a few songs and invite the VIPs onto the stage!”

Such a good soul. It was no surprise that Mika was beloved by his fans.

“You made the news last week,” Shu added, unable to stop a hint of pride was entering his voice. Mika flushed but didn't protest the statement, and Shu chuckled. “'Monarch sells out another stadium,'” he recited, ignoring Mika's embarrassed whine. “The critics seem to think that the Butterfly has found yet another wave of success.”

“Stop stayin' stuff like that!” Mika protested, his cheeks tinged pink. “I mean- I guess it's true. People are eatin' up what I'm doin' right now. ALKALOID invited me to a collab a few weeks ago, and that was really popular.”

A happier flush had overtaken the shorter man's face, and a proud smile lurked around the corners of his mouth. Good, Shu thought, torn between weariness and fondness. Let him be proud of what he's done. He deserves it.

Stop beating yourself up, Shu. You helped him find his path.

Again, Shu didn't catch all the words, but he understood enough. Shame flooded his chest.

It had been a bad couple of weeks. Shu had managed to cobble his mental health back together in time for Mika's visit (the prospect of having company always made it easier), but spring always brought a flurry of inspiration through his studio windows. Some ideas were for new attire, others for sculptures or paintings. But most of his ideas were devoted to elaborate stages, poetic lyrics, and elegant choreography. Sometimes, Shu caught himself humming a few notes of an unwritten song. If the melody refused to fade, Shu wrote the music down and burned the page.

He wasn't an idiot, after all. Deluded he might have been and damaged in ways he hadn't understood, but Shu had always been self-critical to a fault. The idol industry was better off without him. Nazuna and Mika were better off without him. The relief from caving to his desperate desire to stand on a stage and pour his heart out to an audience wasn't worth the fires he'd start in his wake. Better to let his workshop burn down than set his closest friends ablaze. He'd done enough damage.

“Shu?”

Damn it. He'd spaced out.

“I saw the broadcast,” Shu said abruptly. He scowled at his thin voice, but Mika didn't point it out. He simply tilted his head, confused, and Shu added, “Of your Live with ALKALOID. You're a better dancer than Amagi and his group.”

Ooh. That little piece of praise came far too close to the truth. But watching Mika go from pink to cherry red was worth it. It would always be worth it to see him embarrassed without fear.

Eventually, Mika recovered and huffed indignantly. “You shouldn't say stuff like that,” he mumbled.
“ALKALOID just doesn't focus on dancin' like I do! They're more-” Mika gestured vaguely, then seemed to realize he wasn't helping their case and shoved his hands back into his pockets. Shu barely stifled a snort. “Whatever. It was fun! And the fans really liked it!”

Good. Mika deserved all the success in the world.

“But... they miss Valkyrie.”

In a single heartbeat, the noise of the busy street vanished. Shu was left adrift in a vacuum, listening to only his shallow breaths and treading water in an ocean that threatened to drown him. God, he couldn't move. If he did, he'd see Mika's expression – downcast eyes, a carefully blank expression tinged with melancholy, and the slightest of frowns – and he'd fall apart.

He hated being the cause of that expression. He hated that Mika worried so much about him when he should be enjoying his success!

But for a moment, Shu could picture it. His ideas broke down his barriers and flooded in, filling his mind with colors and lights and cheers. Shu stood on an ornate stage, breathing heavily, his entire body aglow. Mika stood with him, dazzling and magnetic. Shu was radiant; he was alive; he felt-

Loss. Guilt so strong he could've sworn it was gnawing on his very bones. Nazuna, sobbing when he thought no one else was around; Mika, frozen in place, fear seeping into his radiant eyes and staining them with terror. The first time Shu had set Mademoiselle down and realized that he still heard her voice.

The illusion shattered. Slowly, the shards of another life fell away, leaving nothing except what was – the sunny street of Paris, Shu's ragged mind, and Mika, ever worried.

Why did Mika even still care about him?

“I didn't mean anythin' by that,” the shorter man added suddenly, and Shu frantically latched onto his soft voice like an anchor in a storm. “I'm not askin' you to do anythin'. But I thought you should know. I get questions about Valkyrie sometimes, and all I can do is shrug. Makes me feel bad for the fans.”

“They shouldn't be asking you those questions in the first place,” Shu said. He knew it came out too quietly, but he pressed on, taking comfort in the familiar burn of righteous anger. He could only summon up anger now if it was on Mika's behalf. “You are an entirely separate entity. Your art should never be judged by what you created in the past.”

Mika glanced at him, and something unstable flickered in his eyes. “Ain't I still a Valkyrie?”

Merde. A poor choice of words.

“Of course you are,” Shu said, and he poured every ounce of genuine apology he could muster into the words. The vulnerability made his skin crawl, but he stubbornly fixed his gaze on Mika's bowed head. “The title is yours as long as you want it. I'm only saying your fans should not define you by it.”

Mismatched eyes – one startling blue, the other warm amber – flicked up to meet his gaze. “What 'bout you?”

Ha. As unassumingly perceptive as always.

But Shu said nothing, and to Mika's credit, he carried on as if they'd never stopped walking. Shu followed him silently, trying and failing to keep his guilt in its neat little box. His therapist had told him more than once that ruminating on the past did not count as “working through it,” and if he wasn't willing to tackle his feelings, he had to leave them alone.

Shu had never quite gotten there. Working them out or leaving things alone. But putting his issues to the side and dealing with them as they returned was good enough for the time being.

They reached the train station after a few more minutes, and once they boarded a train, Mika was lost to Paris' hustle and bustle. He peered out the window with shining eyes, plastered to the views whipping past. Paris was particularly inviting in the bright spring sunlight. Shu envied his childlike wonder, but he was just as content to watch the other man drink in the city's beauty.

It was almost unfair how relaxed Mika made him feel. Shu's hands hadn't gone numb once, despite being out in public for so long, and his heart beat slowly in his chest. Mika's mere presence was... soothing.

The train ride from Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport to Créteil was a two-hour journey, including all the stops, and somewhere along the line, Shu nodded off. It wasn't a conscious realization; he blinked and found new passengers in the car. Well, what did it matter? Mika would wake him up if there was an issue, and Shu had texted him his new address.

Besides... he needed to sleep.

All too soon, a warm hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him so gently he almost dismissed it as the train's rumbling. When the touch became more insistent, Shu blinked, dragging himself out of the ether of sleep. Slowly, he made out Mika's blurry form next to him.

“Our stop is comin' up,” the shorter man announced, his voice as soft as his touch. “I figured you'd wanna be awake for that.”

Shu reluctantly straightened, wincing at the new crick in his back. “I won't make you fend for yourself in a language you aren't fluent in,” Shu muttered, and Mika's mouth twitched in a fond grin. Shu coughed to stifle his own reflective smile. Damn Mika's infectious mirth. “What do you think of Créteil?"

“It's beautiful. Everythin' here is.” Mika glanced out the window, and thoughtfulness overtook his face. “It's quiet,” he added after a moment, “I dunno. I thought you'd wanna be in the middle of everythin', like usual.” Shu inhaled to defend himself, affronted, but before he could get a word out, Mika looked back at him and flashed that big, innocent smile. “But I like this better.”

Shu did, too. He'd taken to the streets of Créteil to escape the people he didn't want to deal with and the constant bombardment of news. But that was too private a sentiment to voice on a public bus, so Shu simply nodded, pleased, and settled back in his seat.

True to Mika's word, they arrived in minutes. Shu dutifully grabbed Mika's rolling bag as they disembarked, and he sighed as Mika all but hopped off the train. “It's a fifteen-minute walk,” he warned. “Save your energy.”

“I'll be fine!” Mika chirped, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder.

Of course you will be, Shu thought, far too fondly. He settled on a quiet grunt and started off towards home, Mika matching him step for step.

Truth be told, he once would've hated having to walk everywhere. Yes, he got sweaty at times, and it was more challenging to get anywhere, but Shu gladly traded ease of use for a quiet neighborhood. The streets were lined by tall, slim apartment buildings and colorful trees, and winding roads cut between small businesses. The sidewalks bustled with pedestrians out on a pleasant spring afternoon, so Mika stuck close to Shu's elbow. He didn't protest.

“They make excellent éclairs,” Shu muttered when they passed a small bakery with a line out the door. “As well as other pastries. They're quite popular.”

“I can tell,” Mika breathed, and his eyes widened as he spotted a plate of fresh madeleines sitting in the window. “Can we get some? They look amazing.”

Shu almost blurted, Whatever you'd like. He managed to clamp down on that embarrassing sentiment and instead said,

“Later. I'll take you after dinner.”

...which wasn't any better.

Thankfully, Mika was too enveloped in the pastries to catch his slip-up. God, there was so much Shu wanted to show the other man. He'd spent the past four months looking at shops and restaurants and subconsciously deciding which Mika would like the most.

They safely navigated the rest of the way to Shu's apartment building, weaving through the pitfalls of enticing smells and colorful trinkets, and Mika peered around as they entered the lobby.

“It's small,” he noted. “Are you really livin' in just one apartment?”

“Two,” Shu corrected, calling the elevator. “I also rented the one adjacent to mine and converted it into a studio. The landlords were quite willing to allow me to create an adjoining door.”

Mika giggled quietly. “You made a whole studio? You've been busy.”

There was nothing else to do, Shu didn't say. He settled for stepping into the elevator and pressing the 7^th floor button.

“Seventh floor?” Mika echoed. “I didn't even see that many.”

“There were only two apartments built on the top floor. Premium landscape, you could call it. We have the best view of the lake.”

Just as he'd hoped, Mika whipped around to face him. “The lake?”

Yes, Shu still had a penchant for the dramatic. Sue him. Who would he be without a bit of flare? So, rather than giving Mika a straight answer, he waited until the elevator doors finally opened and crossed the hall to the only door. He unlocked it, pushed it open, and stepped back so Mika could dart inside. He was instantly rewarded by Mika's awestruck gasp, and Shu followed him with a soft smile.

It had taken him nearly three months to find a new place to live, but once he'd found Lac de Créteil and discovered the nearby property, Shu knew he'd found his home. He'd immediately transformed the far wall into one gigantic window (with sheer blinds for privacy, of course), and as he'd settled in, left his mark on every piece of furniture. Most were of his creation, painstakingly stitched together and polished to perfection. The few tables and chairs that weren't his had been imported from neighboring nations. The three visible doors (closet, bedroom, and guest room) were all made of deep mahogany. The wood didn't match Shu's minimalist theme or the pastel accents, but he'd fallen in love with the design.

It made him unreasonably happy that Mika liked his new home so much, too.

The shorter man whipped around, as if he'd heard Shu's thoughts, and beamed. “I love it,” he breathed. “This is amazin'!”

Oh, those eyes would be the death of him. Or perhaps Mika's smile would finally do him in, stopping his heart and leaving him fumbling and flustered. The only one who could take him apart – the only one he allowed close enough to do so.”

“I'm proud of it,” Shu's mouth said, and oh, right, they were having a conversation. “Your room is through that door. It used to be an office, so you'll have to share the bathroom with me.” Mika's face instantly creased with worry, but Shu lifted a silencing hand. “I wasn't using it. Otherwise, you'd been sleeping on the couch.”

Neither of those statements was strictly true, but Mika nodded, satisfied, and trotted towards his temporary room with his bags in hand. Shu watched him go, then glanced around. His recent deep clean had revitalized his apartment. The living room was clean and airy, the kitchen was stocked with food, and if Shu leaned around the wall, he could see his studio through his bedroom. He briefly considered shutting the door but shrugged the idea off. Let Mika see his creations. He had nothing to hide.

A few minutes later, Mika returned in a fresh change of clothes. He'd traded the sweater and jeans for sweatpants, a loose shirt, and fluffy white slippers that Shu distinctly remembered gifting him the last time Mika had visited. They looked... pristine. Had the other man cared for them so carefully?

“Can I see your studio?” Mika asked eagerly, and Shu snapped back to attention. “I really wanna see what you've been workin' on.”

Time to take the plunge.

Shu silently led the way into his bedroom, Mika close behind, and he murmured, “Careful,” as he took the steps into his studio. Mika gasped again, and this time, Shu was close enough to see his starstruck expression. His heart flipped again, a little more insistently.

After so many hours spent pacing the concrete floors, Shu had lost a bit of love for the space, but Mika made it feel new. It was by far the smaller apartment yet was much taller, with a soaring ceiling and two walls that were entirely windows. Shu's various projects were scattered across rolling tables and countertops, everything from acrylic paints to sewing machines to an abandoned wood-carving chisel. His worktable was tucked against the far wall, with the best view of the lake.

“There's so much.”

Mika's voice was barely a breath, reverent and awestruck. He padded over to the nearest table, where Shu had left a half-finished portrait, and carefully trailed his fingers across the dried paints. (Reminder to himself: Shu had to burn that painting before Mika figured out who the lithe figure was supposed to be).

“How do you do all this?” Mika asked. He glanced up at Shu, and a mixture of adoration and disbelief swirled in his eyes. “I know this is your living, but... I don't think I've ever made this much stuff, even if I counted all my notes.”

“I'm a visual artist,” Shu said simply. “We work differently.”

Mika hummed softly but said nothing, looping aimlessly around the workshop. When he reached Shu's failed attempt at stone carving, he stretched a hesitant hand up to the seated woman's face, tracing her features.

Shu looked away.

He did not admire Mika's slender fingers, still adorned with rings. He did not linger on the sliver of pale skin exposed as his shirt lifted. He refused to even think about the fact that Mika, the subject of so much of his art, was here in his studio, and that meant something Shu couldn't address. A lingering glance at his muse would doom him forever. So long as he never looked for too long, he'd be fine.

“Where's Mademoiselle?”

Ah, a safer topic. “In my desk,” Shu called, and Mika glanced at his cluttered workspace with no small amount of confusion. “She no longer requires my constant attention.”

That's right. You don't need me as much.

Shu only caught a few words, distracted as he was, but he still smiled faintly at the brush of warmth that touched his mind. “She's still with me,” he said for Mika's benefit, and a matching smile touched the shorter man's face. It had been a struggle for them both to acclimate to leaving Mademoiselle the doll at home. “But she has been resting. The move eased her mind as well.”

“I'm glad,” Mika murmured. “This is a really nice place, Shu.”

Hm! Little Mika approves. You should convince him to stay for a bit longer.

That thought must've been a mixture of theirs because Shu heard each word perfectly, and he coughed to hide a sudden flush.

Of course, he'd love to have Mika stay. But he'd figured that out too late; Monarch was one of the most popular idols in Japan, even rivaling the popularity of monster groups like Eden. His heartfelt performances and genuine care for his fans made him famous. Shu couldn't ask Mika to live this sad, little life with him.

But he wanted to. He wanted to so badly that it haunted his every step.

Well. Speaking of idol work.

“How was the release of Ice Wine?” Shu asked, and he was instantly gratified by Mika's delighted smile. “I believe you said you would perform it live at a festival.”

“I did!” Mika chirped. “I worked really hard on all the choreography.” Somehow, his grin got even brighter. “I have the music video if you wanna see that! The producers filmed my practices and the festival and put together a demo for me!"

Shu had, in fact, seen Mika at the festival in question – Moonlight Extravaganza, if he remembered correctly. He'd bought a virtual ticket the day sales started and tuned into the livestream thirty minutes early so he wouldn't miss a second of it. He'd streamed it on his TV, curled up under a blanket, staying up until an ungodly hour to watch Monarch perform. Shu had even paid extra to for the “afterparty,” a glorified Q&A session. He'd eventually fallen asleep to Mika talking about how he'd found inspiration for the song from one of his closest relationships, a bond he considered unbreakable.

For four long months, Shu had wondered if Ice Wine was about him.

But he'd never ask. Never, even if it killed him.

“Your music video deserves to be watched on the TV,” Shu decided, and Mika could've outshone the sun. He darted out of the studio, face alight, and Shu followed with a fond roll of his eyes. By the time he'd reached the living room, Mika had turned on the TV, set up the video, and curled up on the couch as if he'd never left.

“Are you comfortable?” Shu asked archly.

To his delight, Mika just grinned again. “'course I am. Everythin' is so soft.”

Then the cheeky bastard dared to pat the couch, as if Shu needed an invitation in his own home. Shu couldn't tell if he was more affronted at Mika's devious little smile or that he willingly sat, settling into the cushions. Mika shifted a little, pressing their shoulders together ever so slightly, then lifted the remote. But he paused.

“I, uh-” Mika swallowed. Shu did not follow the line of his throat. “I hope you like it.”

Oh, that little sentence was going to keep him up at night.

Then Mika played the video, and Shu was drawn into a darkened stage and a mournful violin.

He still remembered when Mika had announced his solo project. By then, they'd already disbanded Valkyrie, but Shu had lingered in Japan just long enough to see the other man's plans. He'd struggled not to let his jaw drop, startled by the elegance of Mika's new title – Monarch, named for the butterfly toxic to its predators – and outfit: a black base with purple highlights, fitted in a style reminiscent of Valkyrie, but still entirely new.

That had been the moment when Shu realized he was no longer needed Japan. His former marionette had finally learned what it was to be human and abandoned his puppet strings – and his puppet master with them. It had been the proudest moment of his life and utterly shattered him.

But now, watching Mika's performance at the Moonlight Extravaganza for the second time, Shu decided the heartache had been worth it. Monarch drifted across the stage, as graceful as his motif, perfectly synchronized to the bittersweet lyrics. Occasionally, the festival shots were interrupted by black-and-white clips of Mika in a practice room at Ensemble Square, tripping over his feet or laughing with someone off-camera.

A pang of homesickness seized Shu's chest. What he wouldn't give to be in that practice room, watching Mika prepare for his next big event. What he wouldn't give to be in the front row, close enough to catch Mika's gaze and receive that beaming smile in return.

“I'm always so close to losing you, I fear.”

How had Mika's voice become even more angelic over the years?

“If I blink, the snow will take you, and I'll be left alone.”

Another perfect spin, a camera angle that melted into the mesmerizing swirl of Monarch's cloak.

“All I have are memories, melting in my hands. Is it too much to ask for more, ice wine?”

Something glittered in the spotlight, and Shu's gaze snapped to the past Mika's right ear. He hadn't noticed it the first time, but now, he saw an ornate earring reflecting a bit of light.

No. That-

Shu whipped around. Sure enough, an earring still dangled from Mika's right ear. It was small but intricate, a purple and black butterfly in mid-flight, handcrafted in the days following Mika's reveal of his new motif.

He was still wearing it. Shu had given Mika the earring as a celebratory send-off, congratulating his former partner on his success in a way he hadn't known how to verbalize. He'd never intended it to be anything except an occasional accessory or a paperweight. And yet-

“Do you always wear it?” Shu blurted. Mika jumped, clearly startled, and Shu silently cursed himself. But panic was crawling up his throat, too strong to be ignored, and he soldiered on. “The earring. It's in the music video as well.”

Mika blinked. Then he went beet red and hurriedly clapped a hand over his ear. “I, uh- sorta. I mean, it's part of the outfit- and my regular outfits. But it's- uh-”

Somehow, Shu heard the answer. “You do,” he said incredulously. Mika cringed, and oh, god, had Shu ruined everything again? Had he unwittingly forced a piece of him into Monarch's design? Left even more of an imprint on Mika's life? “Mika, that was a gift,” he said, more than a little desperately. “It was-”

Warm hands wrapped around his wrists, and Shu stumbled to a halt.

“I know it was a gift,” the shorter man said firmly, squeezing Shu's wrists. “I know that. I started wearin' it 'cause you weren't around, and it made me feel like you were. Y'know, helpin' me out when I got stuck on somethin'. I wanted it to be part of Monarch's design. I promise.”

If I blink, the snow will take you, and I'll be left alone.

Hadn't Shu left Japan in the winter?

Vaguely, he heard the final notes of Ice Wine, but he was too lost in his own head to turn off the TV or move or do anything that wasn't sitting where he was, grounding himself in Mika's gentle grasp. Even then, Shu still reeled, his heart pounding and his hands trembling.

“I've received a few emails from the producers at COS PRO. They requested my return to the industry.”

Oh. Oh, god, Shu hadn't meant to say that, especially when he didn't have an answer to the inevitable question. But thinly-veiled hope spiraled across Mika's face, a touch of desperation tinging the expression, and god, Shu couldn't bear to have Mika look at him like that. He couldn't be trusted with something as fragile as “hope.”

“Did you-” Mika swallowed again. Shu couldn't stop himself from following the motion this time. “Did you respond to any of 'em?”

No. I wanted to tell you first and ask if you wanted me back. No one else in that damned industry would have me, and I wouldn't have them. I either return as Valkyrie or not at all. But Monarch has taken flight, Mika, and I can't take that from you. I've done enough.

But Shu didn't know how to voice any of that. All he could do was shake his head wordlessly and pray that Mika understood there was so much more to the question of “Will you come back to Ensemble Square?” than a simple “yes” or “no.” Judging by the shorter man's crestfallen expression, he didn't.

You have to tell him, Shu. He isn't a mind reader.

Again, their thoughts must've aligned, because Shu heard that thought with perfect clarity. He ground his teeth, frustrated, but... it was true. Mika could not know with absolute certainty what Shu was thinking – or why he hadn't already returned to Japan – unless he swallowed his fear and pride and said something.

Such a simple sentiment. So painful in execution.

But the hurt in Mika's eyes was more painful than speaking could ever be. Shu had promised himself long ago that he would never again be the cause of Mika Kagehira's pain.

“Monarch is thriving,” Shu began haltingly. Instantly, Mika's sorrow melted into attentive confusion, and Shu couldn't decide if that was better. “You are more popular than Valkyrie ever was, and you have received international acclaim for your art. That level of influence is not easily obtained.”

Idiotic. Anyone who worked in the idol industry knew fame was fleeting and fickle. Shu had to be more specific. More vulnerable.

“If I returned to Ensemble Square, I wouldn't do as a solo act. Monarch is. I would... disrupt you.”

Enough. He couldn't stand this anymore.

“I will not send your entire career into an upheaval because a few producers want me to return and boost their ratings,” Shu finished hotly. Anger for their overlords rushed in his ears. “I gave up my stage. I refuse to steal yours.”

A heavy beat. Mika was silent, his face twisted in concentration. But there was no simple solution; Shu had devoted many long hours to the subject. France didn't have the same superstar culture, so his itch couldn't be sated here. Even if he quietly returned to Japan, it would inevitably disrupt Mika in some way or another. Fans jabbered enough about Valkyrie, and they had officially disbanded close to three years ago. How much more would Mika be hounded if Shu returned and neither of them addressed it?

“What if you weren't stealin' my stage?”

Mika's voice was soft, almost too quiet to be heard. But the sentiment made Shu flinch.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Mika finally looked up, a determined set to his jaw. “What if you weren't stealin' my stage?” he repeated, more assuredly. “What if I shared it with you? It wouldn't be the same, but I wouldn't want it to be. Valkyrie was all about evolvin' and changin'. The stage is big enough for both of us.”

Such a heartfelt admission, blurted out like it was nothing. The tiny part of Shu's brain that was still functioning reeled at the implicit trust.

But his thoughts couldn't progress much further because Shu was lost in his ideas. God, he could see the stage from here. He could see those sweeping lights, hear the cheering, feel the sturdy stage beneath his feet as he poured his soul into his art. Shu craved the performance. No other art form had ever come close to his grandest works on stage, to the lyrics he'd agonized over and the choreography that perfectly accentuated the story.

Could he... have that again?

Could he stand with Mika on stage, sharing the space?

Could Shu return to his heart's most vibrant passion without ruining everything he touched?

Suddenly, he realized he'd been silent far too long. Mika still hadn't moved, but he anxiously worried at his lip, chewing up the already chapped skin. On pure instinct, Shu reached out and caught Mika's lower lip with his thumb, tugging slightly.

“You'll ruin your skin,” he chided. Mika went without complaint, his face slightly slack, and Shu hovered for too long before dropping his hand. “I don't know,” he murmured, and Mika deflated. It hurt to say the words, too, but he couldn't make such grand promises. “I will... remember what you said and take it to heart. Thank you.”

It had to be enough. Mika's lingering melancholy said it wasn't – and god, did that mean he wanted Shu to come back? – but he nodded once.

“'course, Shu.”

Another beat. Shu wanted to properly appreciate the music video, but a fire had sparked under his skin, leaving him twitchy and restless. Even worse, an idea had taken root in his brain. Acting on it would only make everything worse; he knew that.

But he couldn't stop it. Not with Mika finally with him again, less than an arm's length away, watching him as if Shu was the only thing in the world he cared about.

“Come.”

Shu was up and moving before he could change his mind, and he stubbornly set his jaw against his raging thoughts. Mika was a step behind this time, and bewilderment flooded his voice when he asked,

“Aah, what're we doin'?”

What I've wanted to do for months. Forgive my selfishness, Mika.

Shu stepped into his studio and began pushing tables and machines aside, following the floor plan he'd unwittingly created all those months ago. Within seconds, he'd cleared the floor. The open space was the approximate length and width of an ES practice room. Judging by Mika's too-wide eyes, he recognized the dimensions. He carefully descended into the workshop, stepping out of his slippers.

“I thought you said you didn't practice anymore,” Mika murmured, padding over to Shu on socked feet.

“I don't,” Shu said stiffly. “It was an unintentional design.”

Amusement crinkled Mika's face, and Shu hurried over to his speaker system's monitor before one of them blurted something egregiously fond. He navigated to his playlist of European instrumentals, as had always been their default in past practice sessions, but...

Shu changed course, again stifling his anxious thoughts, and the opening violin notes of Ice Wine's instrumental version filled the room. Mika straightened, but Shu waved a hand. “No choreography. This is improvisation.”

Oh, god, he'd so quickly fallen into old habits. Mika had never been his to command, and it was even less so now that Monarch had taken flight.

But Mika instantly relaxed. He swung his arms for a moment, loosening up with a few stretches, then stepped to the center of the room, humming the last few notes before launching into the lyrics.

“I converse with a picture that's framed by my bed.
I pen a note that I've written too late.
Everything, everything, it comes at a price,
and yours is your presence, I fear.”

Oh... Shu had almost forgotten what it was like to bathe in the full force of Mika's exceptional voice. The livestream had been good, but standing by the stairs, watching Mika slowly spin, trailing his feet against the smooth concrete... Shu was home.

“I tell the stories that we never lived,
I look for your gaze, but you're no longer there.
You're already gone, adrift in the wind-”

This wasn't his song to sing. It wasn't.

But he couldn't help it.

“Is this how it goes, ice wine?” Shu finished softly, lending his voice to Monarch's. Mika instantly faltered, and Shu mentally cursed himself. “I... apologize.”

The instrumental bridge swept through the room in a wave of melancholy and longing, and for a moment, Shu was a continent away. Mika stood in a spotlight, perfectly illuminated by the warm sunlight streaming through the windows, and Shu hovered at the halo's edge. A stranger on the stage he'd once called home. But he'd chosen this. It was the best thing for both of them. It had to be.

Then Mika extended a hand. It was hesitant, as if he feared how Shu might react, but he stretched out with a desperation that Shu knew far too well. Please, Mika's eyes begged. Please.

Once, Shu would've turned his nose up at the vague plea. He was softer now, weak to his very core. Human. So he set one foot in front of the other, swallowed the anxiety making his heart lurch in uncoordinated beats, and carefully laid his hand in Mika's.

Monarch smiled.

“I walk the paths that you and I once tread,
hoping for a whisper you left unsaid,
but I've waited too long; you sing a different song-”

Mika gently pulled at Shu's hand, and he let himself go, closing his eyes and following the shorter man's guiding hand.

“Is this how it goes, ice wine?” he murmured. Mika's voice was quieter this time, allowing Shu's to be heard. When he opened his eyes, mismatched amber and blue gazed at him hopefully.

The lyrics were simple, perhaps amateurish, proof of Mika's inexperience in songwriting. But they were filled with the emotion and passion Shu had never managed to bring to Valkyrie. It was his own longing reflected back at him, raw and ruinous, and his voice trembled as he sang.

“I'm always so close to losing you, I fear.”

Mika spun with effortless grace, and Shu moved instinctively, balancing out the choreography with a sweeping gesture.

“If I blink, the snow will take you, and I'll be left alone!”

“All I have are memories, melting in my hands.”

“Is it too much to ask for more, ice wine?”

Another instrumental. Shu let his body sway, guided solely by those final violin notes. He and Mika circled slowly, one coordinated step at a time, following a dance they'd never planned yet knew by heart. Was it just their years of Valkyrie that bonded them? Or did Mika feel the tug pulling Shu around the floor?

“Can I ask for more, ice wine?” he murmured.

“Can I ask for more, ice wine?” Mika sounded almost in tears.

“Can I ask for more-?”

It had been far too long since Shu had heard their voices together. He'd never appreciated it the first time around. As the song drew to a close, a surge of fondness and loss and longing rippled through Shu's chest. It chased the perpetual chill from his body, cleansed him of his aches, and so destroyed his filter that he finally found the courage to ask the question he'd sworn he'd never speak aloud.

“Is this song about me, Mika?”

Mika closed his eyes, almost miserably. “Yes.”

A beat. Silence filled the studio, and it was somehow louder than his thundering heartbeat.

Then Mika lifted his gaze, and Shu inhaled sharply at the shine of adoration in the other man's eyes. Not again. Never again. Nothing that would give him the power to so utterly ruin another human. But a flicker of hope ignited in his chest, and try as he might, Shu couldn't extinguish it. Weren't things different now?

“I know you don't like hearin' stuff like this,” Mika began quietly, and Shu's heart stuttered, “but I miss Valkyrie. I miss gettin' up on stage with you and singin' some lyrics I barely understand. Monarch ain't the same as that. Nothin' is without havin' you up there with me.”

It took a monumental effort for Shu to remember how to speak. “You- you've never told me that.”

“'cause I thought it would go away. It was never lonely when you left before, but it's different when I know you ain't comin' back.” Mika cut himself off with a soft exhale, and suddenly, the moment was gone. The shorter man offered a pathetic echo of his usual smile, tinged with the remnants of his melancholy. “Sorry. You don't wanna hear 'bout that.”

He did. He did.

“Can I treat you to dinner, Mika?” Shu murmured.

He was a coward, and he knew it. But Mika brightened, and that was all he needed. They exited his studio, closing the door solidly behind them, and Shu left his dreams behind. With each step they took out of his apartment, he shed his hopes, one by one, discarding them to be trampled by the foot traffic.

Because the day he stopped being a coward, he might go back.

For the next three hours, Shu simply cherished the moment. He treated Mika to a lavish meal, offering him freedom of anything he wanted on the menu, and chuckled at the shorter man's visible discomfort in the fancy restaurant. They returned to the bakery after, as promised, and Shu smiled as Mika loaded his arms up with sweets and bounced out of the shop.

By the time the moon rose over the lake, Shu and Mika had retired to his apartment and were curled up on the couch, watching some French melodrama. At some point, Mika had slumped against him, and in some wild leap of faith Shu couldn't remember making, he'd wrapped his arm around the shorter man's shoulders and pulled him close. Mika breathed slow and deep, slowly but surely stealing Shu's attention away from the melodrama on screen.

Mika burned so, so warm. His lithe body unwound in sleep, and his beautiful features were slack, finally freed from boundless enthusiasm.

The change had come slowly, as most changes did with him. Shu almost chuckled at the memory of his therapist's exasperated expression when he'd finally put the pieces together. It seemed silly now. The truth was so obvious and uncomplicated.

He had not always loved Mika. For too many years, he hadn't even cared for him. But as Shu had finally started to recover – as he'd realized that going to France and staying there would ease his burden, as he'd disassembled his childhood in one therapy session after another – they'd finally become friends. Mika eventually sought therapy as well, and suddenly, they were both somewhat functional. There were days Shu missed his old vigor – everything had been simpler before he'd realized Mademoiselle was not just a doll – but it had been worth it. Worth it to build a relationship with Mika from the ground up, slowly dismantling their old hurts.

And one day, it struck Shu like a bolt of lightning. He'd been in a session, absently gazing out the window and chatting aimlessly about Mika's last performance. Shu had closed his eyes, smiled at the memory of Monarch dancing across the stage, and simply said,

“He was as beautiful as always.”

His therapist had been oddly silent. And suddenly, Shu had been rammed in the chest by a truth so vehement that he'd teared up. He'd clamped a hand over his mouth, panicked by how strongly he felt, gasping for breath. His therapist had talked him down from a meltdown, but Shu had remained terrified of that airy feeling for months after.

Not anymore. It was a peaceful certainty, a companion to Mika's visits. A truth Shu would never speak aloud.

“I will find an answer for you,” he promised quietly. “I'm sorry for hurting you again. I never thought you'd be lonely without me.”

Mika didn't respond.

Shu shuddered once and finally, finally caved. He pressed a soft kiss into Mika's hair, then rested his forehead in dark green locks and drew in one trembling breath after another. I love you, my dear Kagehira. I'm sorry that I realized it far too late.

He knows.

And Shu could only pray that Mademoiselle was right.

——————

“I will find an answer for you.”

The quiet voice was enough to rouse Mika was the ether of sleep, and his fuzzy brain struggled with the sentence for a moment. Slowly, he remembered where he was. Slender fingers played with the hem of Mika's shirt, and he smiled sleepily. Right. He was back in France. No wonder he felt so content.

“I'm sorry for hurting you again. I never thought you'd be lonely without me.”

It's okay, Mika wanted to say. I never told you.

Then warmth touched his hair, and it took Mika several long seconds to realize that Shu had just kissed him. The taller man pressed their heads together, breathing shallowly, and Mika's treacherous heart picked up in a frantic drumbeat. This wasn't real. Right? He was dreaming, surely.

Cool lips pressed against his temple, a bit more assured but no less gentle.

It was real. God, it was real. Mika struggled to wake up, but a stubborn part of his heart squeezed his eyes shut. If he didn't move, this moment could last forever. Shu's breath drifted down his neck, and the crush he'd spent years repressing ran rampant. Just let him stay here.

Shu tugged him gently, and Mika collapsed like a rag doll into the taller man's lap. He heard a quiet scoff, a mumbled, “Foolish,” then he was lost in the slender fingers carding through his hair.

Please, just let them stay like this.

“Mika?”

No, no, not yet. Mika had yearned for this simple affection for so long.

“Mika.”

Shu gently tugged his hair, and Mika stifled a gasp. Still, he poured everything into pretending to blink himself awake. He rolled over as he did so, and maybe he was a little drowsier than he'd thought, because all Mika accomplished was burying his face against Shu's stomach.

“Mm?” he asked. “Wha's it?”

That... was not a coherent sentence. Alright, his brain and heart were moving much faster than the rest of his body.

Thankfully, Shu didn't seem annoyed by his clinginess. The taller man just chuckled (Mika loved that sound) and resumed gently stroking Mika's hair, slender fingers massaging his scalp here and there. “You should move to your bedroom.”

“No.”

“Your neck will be sore tomorrow, fool.”

Mika was nothing if not petty when sleepy, so he responded to the absolutely abhorrent suggestion of moving by snuggling even closer. He could've sworn he heard Shu gasp, but that didn't make sense. Shu didn't get startled or flustered. Mika dismissed the thought and promptly returned to his efforts to completely curl around the other Valkyrie.

(It didn't matter how many years passed. They were still Valkyrie.)

“Don' care,” Mika mumbled. “Just want you.”

Wait, no. He hadn't meant to say that.

But Shu didn't withdraw. His hand faltered for a moment, then resumed, and Mika tumbled back towards the darkness of sleep. What had woken him up again? He vaguely recalled the tail end of a dream... Shu had kissed him.

If only. Mika was content with this, though. With Shu's gentle touch and the knowledge that he was safer in France than he was anywhere else in the world.

Shu Itsuki loved him. Of that, Mika had no doubt.

And Mika loved him, wholly and forever.

Come back to Valkyrie, Shu. It ain't Japan without you.

Chapter Text

This was, in absolutely all measures, the worst idea Shu had ever had.

The terminal yawned before him like the maw of a beast, and his entire body seized up, locking him in place. He must look ridiculous, hunched in Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport as if he'd never flown anywhere. Of course Shu was an experienced traveler! His credentials were ready in his pocket, and he knew, from experience, that he would arrive at his gate at just the right time to board.

Then again, it wasn't the act of traveling that terrified him. It was where he was going.

Shu sucked in a shuddering breath and glanced down at his plane ticket. "Japon" was written in block letters across the bottom. 

For a moment, he almost caved. He almost turned and fled the airport, clinging to his bag strap and praying for forgiveness of his cowardice and idiocy. It would be so easy. Nothing would hurt anymore.

Except that wasn't true. Shu would never be able to look Mika in the eyes again, and the shorter man's trust in him would be irreparably broken. Besides... Shu didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go back to his silent apartment, the unfinished projects in his studio, the echo of Mika's beautiful voice that still resounded in his heart.

Shu wouldn't run. Not again.

With another deep breath, Shu pulled his phone from his pocket. 23:12 P.M. Come midnight, he'd be on a plane bound for Japan. 

Bound for the man grinning on his lock screen. Shu couldn't remember when they'd taken this selfie, but he didn't need to — the disgustingly fond smile he wore was how he always felt around Mika. For his part, the shorter man clutched Shu's wrist, pulling him toward their next adventure in Paris' brilliant streets. Mika's smile was blinding, and his mismatched eyes shone with life.

Shu pocketed his phone, and somehow, he took comfort in the fluttering of his heart. 

Time to go home.