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A realisation happens in steps, and Tsukasa takes the first one at the closing dinner about a week after the Peter Pan show.
A Friday evening and a noisy izakaya, as much networking as it was celebration. It came with a full stomach and a warm atmosphere, and casual arms slung around his shoulders that he tolerated with grace even as their owners got drunker and clumsier.
The grin didn’t leave his face even despite the jostling, because while it was a casual affair the topic of conversation always seemed to drift back to the show, and their experiences, and inevitably Tsukasa’s own role in it. He couldn’t help but bask in the attention, even if in exchange the hands shoved messily through his hair, accompanied by laughs of ‘don’t you get a big head over there, Pegasus.’
“Genbu’s reference?” asked a woman he didn’t recognise at some point.
“Yep, yep,” Nao, one of his camp peers, patted a hand on Tsukasa’s shoulder. “Got us our leading man here, Pegasus.”
“Wonderlands x Showtime’s Tenma Tsukasa,” Tsukasa put in hastily. He wasn’t against the nickname, per se, but he drew the line at it being his only introduction. “It’s nice to meet you!”
“Wonderlands?” The woman repeated. “No kidding? Genbu wouldn’t shut up about your whole troupe the last time we met.”
A warm glow of pride in his chest, different from the one he’d been feeling all night. He felt his grin widen. “Really?”
“Not for a second,” she huffed. “Honestly, I thought he would have poached you all by now. Or at least his favourite.”
Tsukasa laughed. “He did make that joke,” he agreed, remembering the proposition at the diner.
To his surprise, she only raised an eyebrow. “Who’s joking? Genbu’s the most straightforward guy on the planet. If he wants something, he asks. He really didn’t say anything?”
Something about that rang a little uncomfortable—maybe it was the matter-of-fact way she said it, maybe it was the disbelief in her expression. Tsukasa paused for a moment, mouth open but unsure of what to say.
“No, nothing.” He finally shook his head with a slight hesitation.
“Huh.” She blinked, before shrugging. “I guess you guys are still in school. Check him out, growing a sense of responsibility.”
From there, Nao had barked a laugh next to him, dissipating the odd mood and with it, the topic. Tsukasa had fallen back in the flow of things moments later, putting the awkward moment behind him with a practised ease.
Still. The thought stayed, small and disquieting, at the back of his brain.
It stays even now, long after he's come home and changed and burrowed himself in his blankets. Larger and more insistent, like a buzz prodding him to pay attention. The woman’s innocent inquiry pulls up memories of moments Tsukasa had long since dismissed, forcing them into examination.
“I know! Won’t you become our director, Rui-kun?”
“...Ah, kidding, kidding!”
Had he been? Even if he wasn’t, he’d undoubtedly gauged their reaction and backed off, right? Because he hadn’t asked again.
…Had he?
Rui’s expression, deep in thought, looking a thousand miles away.
“What were you guys talking about?” Tsukasa had asked.
An off-guard pause, response coming in a beat too late.
“...Just a bit about the future.”
Tsukasa groans where he’s sitting on his bed, dropping his forehead into his propped up knees. A realisation may happen in steps, but after that first step this evening he feels sort of like he’s falling down the stairs, the ground coming up to meet his face at an alarming speed.
An invitation from Arkland. From Asahi. That was huge. Career-changing, life-changing huge. If Rui really had gotten an invitation like that, then he surely would have thought about it. It surely would have taken deliberation, consideration of all the factors. Of every little thing it could affect.
…Why, then, wouldn’t Tsukasa know about it?
He idly thumbs his phone unlocked to pull up his messages, tapping into his conversation with Asahi. He’s almost certain he could ask. Tsukasa would either get a straight no I didn’t or a that’s not really for me to say that’d be just as telling, and then he would know.
He would know.
Tsukasa bites his lip, and exits out of it, tapping into his texts with Nene instead.
Does Rui tell you stuff? he sends unthinkingly.
what, is Nene’s near-immediate reply.
Does he confide in you about his worries and stuff
why are you asking me this
also are you really asking me this
it’s rui??
Tsukasa snorts despite himself as he ponders how to respond.
He goes with just wondering, regardless of how unconvincing it looks even to his own eyes.
There’s a pause after that, the three bubbles popping up and disappearing in a pattern that he can only interpret as disbelieving.
You tend to know what’s going on with him, right?
That gets him something.
Im used to having to read him
but he doesnt really tell me much tbh
at this point i think he probably talks more to you
Tsukasa wrinkles his nose.
This is barely a hypothetical anymore. If that woman was right, then Rui had been presented with a life-changing opportunity, and made the executive decision that Tsukasa didn’t need to know. Tsukasa understands himself at least well enough to know that the tightness in his chest is as much hurt as it is unease.
It feels wrong to try and explain any of this to Nene—not when it is, at least at the moment, unconfirmed. But even without his explanation, she seems to understand enough.
if you ask, he’d probably answer
dont you usually have zero problem pulling the troupe leader card
He smiles, tension easing just a bit.
That’s true!
Thank you, Nene
yeah yeah
He takes a deep breath, closing their conversation and his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them, he finally swipes into the tab with Rui himself to find their last exchange from right after they’d walked back from school that afternoon.
so
I have new thoughts on the staging
Rui you can’t do this to me :( It’s barely been fifteen minutes since we talked!!
Tell me!!!
:)
you need to go out, right?
how about tomorrow? are you free?
The last message is Tsukasa’s affirmative thumbs-up sticker, some hours before he’d left for the dinner. His gaze drifts to the system time, somewhat pointlessly—if it’s early enough for himself to still be up, even after an engagement, then there’s absolutely no way Rui’s not still awake.
He steels himself, pursing his lips.
Should I be over at midday?
And sure enough, the reply comes in barely a full minute later.
sounds perfect
.
.
It doesn’t take Tsukasa very long to find his opening. Rui asks how his evening was as Tsukasa’s still toeing off his shoes, listens through his account as they put together some snacks and head into his garage.
Tsukasa hesitates to ask the question straight out, instead nudging the conversation more gently towards the subject of Asahi. Rui had established a strong rapport with him, after all, and there were a lot of people who knew him at that dinner, peers and close friends alike. And wasn’t it funny that everyone seemed to have expected Asahi to recruit from them, that that conversation in the diner was a well-known part of his personality?
The pause stretches longer than he’s expecting, and he dares a glance at Rui to find him staring blankly back at him.
“You know,” Rui states evenly.
It’s the most inexplicit confirmation Tsukasa’s ever heard, but it’s still a confirmation. The last tentative thought that he’d been overthinking it all dies.
And maybe it’s the casual way Rui says it, or how long Tsukasa’s dwelt on this, or even just the fact that even now Rui still hasn’t technically told him about anything at all, but everything about this just grates.
“Well, now I do,” Tsukasa confirms tightly, and he can’t mistake the thread of bitterness in his own voice. He shuts his mouth, swallowing to try and push it away, but all he succeeds in doing is biting his tongue.
Rui doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that. His lips part as he watches Tsukasa with unfaltering eyes, but all that comes out is a breath.
There is something sharp and ugly curling in Tsukasa’s chest, wrenched suddenly into the light when the last of the doubt dissipated. He doesn’t know what to do with it, worries about what it might make him say.
He lets himself scratch the surface. “So it’s really true? Asahi-san asked you to join Arkland?”
“Ah—” Rui starts, like hearing the words aloud is startling. “Yes.”
A beat.
“During the collaborative show,” he adds pointlessly when Tsukasa says nothing.
Tsukasa presses his lips together, searching—
When? How? What did you think? What did you say?
Why didn’t you tell me?
“That’s amazing, Rui,” he finally says. Truthfully.
Rui blinks, then blinks again. “Thank you,” he says delicately.
“I just—” In his ears beats a continued litany of Why didn’t you tell me? over and over, but he doesn’t think he can say the words without shaking him by the collar. “That’s huge!”
Rui leans back on the couch to tilt his head back to look towards the ceiling. “Yeah. It was a lot to think about.”
And that makes Tsukasa feel like he might shake him by the collar anyway, hands curling tightly in his lap, so he figures he can just give in. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have helped.”
“What would you have said?” Rui asks in return, which is just not fair.
“I don’t know,” Tsukasa can’t stop himself from snarking. “You’d have known if you told me.”
The look of surprise on Rui’s face when he turns at that instantly fills Tsukasa with guilt.
He drops his eyes to his lap, a bit ashamed. “Sorry.”
A hand reaches into his vision, the slightest brush against the back of his own before it pulls away again, drawing Tsukasa’s gaze back up to meet the gentlest look he’s ever seen on Rui’s face.
“No,” says Rui softly. “I’m sorry, too. I should have. Really.”
Tsukasa hesitates, but nods. "Couldn't you trust us?"
"Believe me," Rui gives a slight shake of his head, looking at him openly. "It wasn't about trust."
Tsukasa doesn't understand, but allows it. “Still. It’s your future, you know?”
“I know,” Rui replies, but now it’s his turn to detach, look down.
And here’s another thing Tsukasa still doesn’t understand:
Arkland has everything Rui wants and needs and deserves for his future. And if there’s one thing Tsukasa’s sure about when it comes to Rui, it’s that he kept his eyes on his future even when he admitted the whole world seemed empty.
Yet, he’s still here. With them.
Why?
“I’ll be honest,” he starts, forcing out a slight huff. “I wouldn't have really expected you to say no. How did he take that?”
There’s a pause that’s just a few seconds too long. Rui tenses slightly, wets his lips before they part, and Tsukasa is suddenly struck with the sick, undeniable fact that Rui is about to lie to him.
“Oh.”
It’s a horrible, breathless noise, only unbroken for how short it is. Its only grace is that it stops Rui in his tracks.
“You didn’t say no.”
Rui shuts his mouth, silence answer enough.
And it's one thing for Rui to have said nothing about the invitation if all he’d wanted was to quietly decline it. Tsukasa can maybe understand telling no one if only to put it out of his mind, pretend it never happened.
But. But.
“When,” says Tsukasa as he rises to his feet, barely audible over the roaring in his ears. “When, exactly, were you going to tell—”
Us, he means to say us, but what comes out is sharp and short and pained and—
“—me?!”
Rui stares up at him from the couch, wide-eyed. “I think you’re misunderstanding.”
“So explain it! So—”
Words tangle over each other in his mouth, none of them able to get past his tongue, and oh he hates this part of getting angry. Having his jaw work furiously around silence, any kind of eloquence ripped to pieces to leave only a mess of nothing right to say.
Tsukasa chews, struggles, and finally just pulls out the word, “when? ”
Rui’s eyes dart over his face, searching. “I’m not— I’m not leaving. He took back the offer.”
“You—” Tsukasa deflates, heat still sharp in his chest but confusion winning out as his brow furrows. “What?”
“He took back the offer,” Rui repeats, standing as well to step closer, wary eyes fixed on Tsukasa like they would be on a spooked animal.
Tsukasa blinks, and the sentence still doesn’t make any more sense. “Why?”
“Um.” Rui coughs a slight laugh, and were this any other moment Tsukasa might pause at how he’s fumbled more in this conversation than in the rest of their time knowing each other. For now, though, all he feels is impatient. “He sort of. Surmised that it wasn’t what I really wanted.”
Tsukasa’s eyebrows knit even closer together, so furrowed he can practically feel the building headache. “How?”
“I can only imagine,” Rui starts slowly, “that he saw something in my face. When I…”
He trails off, looking deeply uncomfortable.
“Said yes,” Tsukasa fills in flatly.
“That,” Rui agrees, lips stretching but not curving well enough to smile, resulting in a sort of wonky flat line.
And it’s really, really hard to be angry at Rui when he looks like this. But Tsukasa still manages, because he’d started this whole conversation to get some closure, a confirmation, an apology, and yet he’s somehow come out the other side rent raw, heart beating hurt, hurt, hurt.
He doesn’t like the feeling. He doesn’t like it because it makes him focus on all the wrong things, think less like a troupe leader and more like a child. Because even still smarting from knowing Rui said yes without ever giving them the opportunity to even support him, even with the sudden understanding that he’d somehow looked so miserable that Asahi, Genbu Asahi, had to back off, Tsukasa just feels…
“Why did you need a stranger to tell you you were unhappy, huh?” His voice comes out small. Plaintive. “I’m right here.”
Rui’s hands make an aborted twitch forward, before falling limply back to his sides. His throat moves up, down in a heavy swallow, still scanning over Tsukasa’s face like he’s feeling for answers.
“You should know,” Rui begins carefully, “that there are few people I listen to as I do you.”
If that’s his idea of a placation, it lands all wrong. “So, what?” Tsukasa reaches one hand over to his other forearm to tangle his fingers in his sleeve. “Did you think I’d discourage you? Tell you you were wrong?”
Do you think so little of me?
“No,” says Rui firmly. “Absolutely not.”
One knot eases. Tsukasa’s shoulders inch down as he waits.
Rui lifts one hand up to his mouth, rubbing idly at his jaw as he thinks. He lets out a short huff of air from his nose. “I’m not sure how to express this,” he admits.
The uncertainty feels oddly like a balm. Tsukasa tilts his head. “Try.”
Rui laughs—a startled, gentle sound. But he drops his hand, breathing in, and something in Tsukasa’s stomach unclenches when he realises Rui’s about to take the command to heart.
“I’ve always had a goal,” Rui begins. “And there’s always been… a right thing to do for it. And it was always an easy choice—I had to research, I had to write, I had to put on the best possible show I could alone, since…”
He trails off, gaze drifting for a moment. Tsukasa almost interjects, but then Rui’s eyes snap back to him all-to-suddenly.
“But then,” he continues abruptly. “There was no… wrong. Just a lot of rights, and a dozen different directions for them to lead in.”
Then Rui smiles, eyebrows pulling the expression into something rueful but honest. “I’ve never had that happen before. Alone was the only way I could think to go about it.”
But I’m right here, Tsukasa hears something in him cry again—it’s an inconsiderate, greedy voice, spoiled by Rui’s singular attention, the one that wants to know everything about him and damn all else.
He doesn’t indulge it twice.
“What about after you decided?” He asks instead. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”
Rui tilts his head, smile quirking just a little. “It’s a little silly in hindsight. But I was worried I’d be back where I began if I gave any other ‘right’ thing too much opportunity.”
Tsukasa blinks. It takes a second to sink in.
“You don’t—” He furrows his brow, valiantly trying not to let the burst of warmth in his chest distract him. “You don’t get a pass by flattering us!”
"No?" Rui blinks seriously, but there's a small twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
“Even after he took it back,” Tsukasa presses determinedly one last time. “I wish you’d told me.”
Rui sighs, the humour draining away. “I know. I really am sorry.”
Tsukasa lets out a long breath. Once again, he nods, accepting the words—this time, with everything they encompass behind them.
“Do you,” he hesitates, “do you want to talk about it now? The offer.”
He knows Rui can read between the lines well enough to hear what he’s asking. Why didn’t you want it? Do you want it now?
What did you decide, Rui?
“No.” Rui shakes his head, voice soft but tone firm. “He made the decision, but as things are I’m going to stick to it. I want…”
For a wavering moment, Rui stares at him, expression unreadable and eyes full of something that makes Tsukasa swallow.
“I want to take my time,” he finally finishes. “If everything’s the right thing, then I may as well, right?”
It’s not a lie, but it’s also so clearly not the full picture of what he was going to say. Tsukasa’s lips press together, frustrated, but…
…He’s pushed Rui enough for one day.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I can accept that.”
Rui’s shoulders slump, and his lips quirk in a warm smile. His obvious relief twinges the leftover guilt in Tsukasa’s heart, and he ducks his head.
It feels like something has… fractured, somehow. The atmosphere between them is awkward in a way it’s never been, the little haven of Rui’s room frosted by what Tsukasa had dragged kicking and screaming into it. Something looms quietly over them, subtle as the ticks of the clock on Rui’s desk.
“Sorry for springing this on you today,” Tsukasa says, stilted. “I should… probably head home.”
He startles at a sudden hand catching his elbow, looking back up to find Rui suddenly closer, face blank like he’d moved before thinking.
“You don’t… need to,” Rui edges out. “I haven’t even shown you the staging plans yet.”
Tsukasa blinks, the point of warmth on his elbow enveloping every inch of his focus, filling in the cracks he’d wrought. He feels a smile rise unbidden to his lips, cheeks stretching wide.
“I want to see them,” he admits softly.
Rui’s hand slips from his elbow down to his forearm, held there for a moment before he pulls it away. His smile is slight, but it feels like the brightest thing in the world.
“Then stay?” He asks, as if there could have ever been any other option.
It takes a while longer for the tension to dissipate entirely. But soon enough, Tsukasa forgets what it means to hesitate in front of Rui again, and Rui teases him like he’s never ever said the word sorry.
Tsukasa does consider, just once, asking again. Curiosity burns like nothing else—what had Rui decided the future held for him?
But then—a memory in the Otori family living room, one late evening. There’s a sentence for the unease that stops him.
“The time will come where you’ll have to make a choice.”
Tsukasa laughs in Rui’s garage like it’s the only place in the world, and lets himself forget the future for just a little longer.