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Shinichi stares at his reflection in the mirror, the steady, unchanging rhythm of his life reflected at him. Around him are the same chairs, the same make-up sets. It’s almost like a green room, but there’s a noticeable lack of handheld microphones all over the tables, for one. There’s no mic pack digging into his back either.
But whether it’s an actor’s waiting room or an idol’s, he’s glad to be alone in it even for a moment. He needs a quiet rest.
With a sigh, he turns his attention back to his phone, reading the management’s text about a meeting. They’ll be discussing his participation in the year-end music festival later. It’s something that he has always been looking forward to, a dream of his before he got into the industry, but now…
Well, what’s one more emcee gig?
Another sigh.
Since he was a child, Shinichi has loved music. His parents have introduced him to different musicians—both literally and figuratively, and he’s been blessed to have several CDs signed by the singers themselves.
With his brain always buzzing with thoughts, it’s when he listens to music that his mind slows down, focusing only on the soothing melodies and heartfelt lyrics. It’s why he aspired to be a singer too, hoping to offer that same effect on someone else. That’s what led him to make his debut as a ballad singer four years ago.
That’s not why he is an actor right now.
It’s not that he hates acting, but he thought it would be a one-time thing. He thought that accepting the offer to be the main actor in that drama would help promote his music. Instead, what he gets are—
“Wait, you’re a singer too?”
“Really? But you definitely fit the actor vibe more!”
“Making sure you have something to fall into if acting didn’t go well, huh? Haha, kidding, kidding.”
“—do-san?
“Idol? Why? You’re already racking up lotsa acting awards.”
“Kudo-san?”
Shinichi blinks and sits up, turning around to see a staffer’s head poking around the door, “Sorry, yes?”
“We’re resuming in a few. We’ll begin retouches now if it’s all right?”
“Yeah, all good.”
“Got it!”
As the door closes, Shinichi stares at his reflection in the mirror. He pushes the memories of the past to the back of his mind, where they belong, and focuses on the present.
It doesn’t matter if acting wasn’t his original goal. He’s not doing anything half-assed.
“You want me to do what?”
Ai Haibara, the CEO of APTX Entertainment and unfortunately Shinichi’s close friend, hands him a folder from her desk.
“I know you’ve always wanted to perform in the year-end festivals,” she says, leaning back in her swivel chair. “There is finally an opportunity to do so, and we’re grabbing all the chances we can by having you do a collab stage as well.”
Shinichi opens the folder and frowns at the photo attached inside as Haibara continues, “This will be beneficial for you, too.”
“…Because this guy is super popular, right.”
Kaito Kuroba is a phenom—after all, in a country where ballad and pop music dominated the industry, who has the guts to debut with rock-infused pop?
Shinichi himself releases ballads, the same genre as the musicians he admired. Three years after his idol debut, a year after he began acting wherein his sales continued to be stagnant, rock became the rising genre in the scene.
“—Kuroba tried. And he conquered. With his recent album sales hitting 6 digits in a day, it’s not a reach to say that the music industry has changed and one significant reason is—”
“—from a young age. Kuroba mentioned that his parents are the ones who—”
“—a favorite guest, both of fans and staff, with his bright personality—”
“No, thank you,” Shinichi says, closing the folder shut to stop himself from skimming the files further. After setting it on the table, he plopped down on the nearest couch. “I don’t even know the guy. I’m fine with being the emcee again this year. I’ll be doing promotions for my new album soon. I’ll be busy and I don’t want that additional baggage.”
Shinichi knows his answer sounds robotic, but he’s just laying down the facts as they are.
The sharp click of heels echoes through the room as Haibara strides up to him. She drops the folder on his lap and says, “I’m merely informing you. I’m not asking. It’s already part of the lineup.”
“Wha— hey!”
“You were complaining you’re an emcee and not a performer before. Now that you are a performer and not an emcee, you’re still complaining?”
“That’s because—”
“Anyway, don’t worry. You’ll get to know him. Now get out.”
When Haibara said that Shinichi would “get to know” Kaito Kuroba, Shinichi thought she would simply be providing him with files even more detailed (and even more suspicious). He didn’t realize her meaning until it was too late.
It turns out that he’ll be seeing Kuroba a lot.
A lot.
They knew of each other, Kuroba even did the OST for one of the dramas Shinichi was in, but they don’t know each other. Their promotions never overlapped—Shinichi isn’t even sure Kuroba knows he releases music too—but they’ve released new albums the same week this time, which means the shows Shinichi’s invited to usually have Kuroba on the guest list, too.
The first time they meet face-to-face is in the waiting room for a new variety show.
Kuroba has a personality so bright that the sun is probably cowering in fear of finding a worthwhile opponent, which could explain the recent gloomy weather. Just like the papers say, Kuroba is an obvious favorite of the staff, who all greet him as if they’ve been best friends for ten years despite the show having been on air for only three months.
Who knows? Shinichi wouldn’t, but maybe they have been friends for so long. After all, he, too, is a recipient of Kuroba’s wide grin that one would probably reserve for someone you’re close with.
“Hello, Kudo-san!” Kuroba says as takes the seat next to him, both of them getting their retouches done in front of the dressing tables. “I’m so excited to finally meet you!”
When Shinichi doesn’t immediately respond, Kuroba hurriedly adds, “Oh, I’m Kaito Kuroba, by the way! I’ve listened to a lot of your songs!”
“Thank you,” Shinichi replies because he’s not an ass, even if he doesn’t believe the other’s words and thinks it’s merely lip service.
Fortunately, he’s saved from even more attempts at conversation by the writer arriving and briefing them on the show’s format. More people come and go, some of them the other guests and the others part of the stuff—all of them greeting Kuroba excitedly and Shinichi politely.
Shinichi doesn’t mind it; he is simply being polite as well. He’s not interested in becoming a social butterfly either. It honestly doesn’t bother him.
What bothers him, though, is the way Kuroba glances at him as if Kuroba thinks it does bother Shinichi.
And that is bothersome.
The actual show is fortunately better than his experience in the waiting room in a lot of aspects. It’s more of the conversation type than the activities type, which is the only reason why Shinichi agreed to appear in the first place. They’re not required to talk until spoken to—and Shinichi already has that quiet image anyway, so it worked out fine.
When the spotlight is on Shinichi, the host even delves into his song-making process, a topic others rarely discuss in his interviews. The staff is kind, and the show quickly becomes one of Shinichi’s favorites, something he will strive to appear in during his next promotions.
There is one thing that could be better though, one thing that he doesn’t like as much.
And by that, Shinichi means watching Kuroba do fanservice firsthand.
It’s one thing to see it in streams; he can easily switch channels of the TV or close the tab on his laptop. It’s another to be essentially forced to maintain your gaze and an agreeable expression while numerous cameras are trained on you.
There’s nothing wrong with it per se. Rationally, he knows it’s a way for other idols to show their love for the fans; his close friend Heiji Hattori does that a lot during his streams, too. He even occasionally pulls Shinichi along to do those cute poses or whatever.
“I’ve been sick, but with everyone’s love, I healed quickly!” Kuroba says, making a heart with his hand and winking at the camera.
It’s not wrong, but it doesn’t have to be for Shinichi to dislike it. He wants people to like his music, not himself.
But that’s just his own thing.
They wrap up filming. As Shinichi heads down to the basement parking where his manager is waiting, Kuroba jogs up to him in the hallway.
“Hi, Kudo-san! Are you free right now?” Kuroba says, standing in front of him and stopping him in his tracks. “Do you want to grab a bite somewhere and talk about our collab stage?”
“We can do that over messages,” Shinichi replies. “You can get in touch with my manager.”
After a polite nod, Shinichi sidesteps Kuroba and walks away. Kuroba doesn’t follow after him.
Then, they are on another show together. And another. And another. And after each show, Shinichi receives an invitation from Kuroba to grab a bite.
He’s not that much of an ass, so Shinichi finally agrees after the fifth time.
They meet in a quaint café in an alley near the recording studio Shinichi used to frequent during his rookie days. Shinichi thinks he did see it in passing before, but being too focused on making sure he doesn’t mess up his career too early in the game aside, it does not seem like a place that should be entered, much less a place to get coffee.
Though it turns out to be on purpose; the café owner is related to the studio owner, and they wanted to offer a discrete place to hang out for the artists after they wrap up their recordings.
Kuroba is an obvious frequent customer. If the greetings from the barista or the saved seat for him are any indications, his quick rundown of the cafe’s menu as they sit down (“If you want something espresso-based, their Spanish latte is really good, though their drip-based is also—”) gives him away.
He’s certainly visited several times to know he has to wear a jacket because it’s freezing in here.
As Kuroba stands up to order, Shinichi rubs his arms in an attempt to warm them. The fabric of his polo shirt is thin to provide him with ample protection from the biting cold.
When Kuroba sets their drinks on the table along with chips that he promises are healthy and not something to worry about if you’re keeping an eye on your calorie intake!’, Shinichi straightens up and pretends his fingers aren’t turning to ice.
“…and I’m super happy to collab with you!”
What did Kuroba say? It’s a bit hard to focus.
“I’m also looking forward to seeing the results,” Shinichi answers, focusing on the part he could catch. It’s not a lie; he is not interested in the actual act but he is interested in seeing the results.
After all, if it’s a failure, then he can rub it to Haibara’s face. She’s not always right.
“I’m glad! You don’t really like, you know, hang out with others a lot… and we never had the chance to talk too, even though we’re the same age, so I wasn’t sure if you’d even agree to it, but I was super shocked when the management told me you did! You got this aloof image and stuff… Though, you know, I’ve seen you practice in that studio two years ago and I thought—”
“Shinichi.”
“Eh?”
Shinichi said his name more to cut off the monologue than anything, but… might as well. “You said it yourself. We’re the same age. I think we should at least call each other by our first names especially if we’re going to be working together.”
Considering how Kuroba knows Shinichi has this aloof image and stuff, Shinichi thought he would be hesitant to do so, but Kuroba just takes a moment to pause before saying. “Okay then, Shinichi!”
A grin on his face, he continues without missing a beat, “So as I was saying, I thought then that more than just being aloof, you just really care a lot about your craft, right? Somehow, some people think that seriousness equates to detachment, which couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Shinichi is at a loss for words and can only manage a brief reply: “I do.”
Kuro— sorry, Kaito frowns.
Oh. Did Shinichi offend him by saying just two words after his (honestly, surprisingly) thoughtful words? He’s not really the best at this socializing—
“You’re freezing,” Kaito says. “Here, take my jacket.”
When Shinichi shakes his head, Kaito flashes a grin and begins to shrug it off. “It’s fine! I’m not easily cold…” He trails off, the jacket halfway down his arms. “Oops, sorry! Didn’t think about it. You probably would rather not use someone else’s stuff. Uh, I’ll ask them to lower the AC.”
Shinichi grabs Kaito’s wrist before he can leave and shakes his head again. “No, don’t bother.” He doesn’t want to inconvenience the other customers who are wearing tank tops because they’re apparently not as sensitive to the cold as he is. “I’ll take the jacket, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course! Totally no problem at all!”
As Kaito removes his jacket and turns around to untangle a thread caught in his bag, Shinichi notices the piercing holes in Kaito’s ears.
“Do you wear earrings?”
Kaito hand pauses mid-air before he continues to hand the jacket to Shinichi. “Yep! Not as often as I should be, but I usually wear a lot of them during promotions.”
That was a stupid question, Shinichi thinks as he puts on the jacket (which is unsurprisingly a good fit; they do have similar statures). Of course, the ‘rock-flavored pop’ pioneer would have a lot of earrings. He’s really outing himself as someone who never watched Kaito before, huh?
Though it would just be fair. He doubts Kaito watches Shinichi a lot either.
“I’m surprised you don’t,” Kaito says after taking a sip of his drink. “So the long earrings and the cuffs you wore during your ‘Silver Bullet’ era were fake?”
“You usually wear outfits with jackets like this,” Shinichi says, pinching the shoulder and pulling it up twice. He’s not going to linger on the fact that perhaps Kaito has seen Shinichi perform once or twice, no. “Is that a concept or truly your style?”
“Hmm, a bit of both?”
Their conversation leads to a discussion of concepts in between their sips of coffee and bites of chips. Shinichi finds they differ in a lot of things. Kaito likes dark-colored outfits with a lot of accessories; Shinichi likes cool-colored outfits with fewer—or none at all if possible—accessories that restrict his movements. Kaito enjoys energetic, high-intensity dance routines that defy what seems impossible to do with rock; Shinichi prefers smooth, precise choreography that highlights his technical skills when he does have the opportunity to showcase them.
Which brings them to this question: Considering these differences, just what the hell can they do for their collaborative performance?
“We can do one song… or maybe two in a remix?” Kaito says, fiddling with his straw, his drink empty. “I can play the piano. If you want to sing while I play, that’s an option, too.”
Of course, he knows how to play. This guy can just do them all, huh? “I don’t think your fans will be satisfied with that, nor will I.”
Kaito pouts. “Why not? I’ll play super well. I don’t do anything half-assed.”
The sentence strikes a chord with Shinichi, echoing the same words he often hears in his own mind. It must have caught him too off guard that he blurts out, “You’re already pretty amazing.”
“E-eh?”
…Damn. Can’t take it back. Might as well face it head-on. “You dared to do something different. You took a huge gamble, which paid off in the end, but it was still a gamble nonetheless. I don’t expect you to do anything half-assed.”
And I really disliked that and you, Shinichi didn’t add.
“Well,” Kaito says, prolonging the vowel. He pinches the straw twice before sitting upright. “It’s a rebellion.”
“What is?”
Kaito scratches his cheek. “I actually wanted to be a magician.”
At Shinichi’s confused blinking, he explains, “My parents kinda brute forced me to be in the music industry, so I just went with a genre I knew wouldn’t be popular. They can’t say I didn’t try, but I would fail. I even made sure my debut would be on a Friday the 13th, you know?
“But I started meeting the staff, started practicing, started recording… I decided that instead of doing poorly, I’d rather do super freaking great. If I become successful enough, they’ll let me have my own shows ‘n stuff too, right? Then I can do magic.”
Kaito chuckles. “Or I can stick to showcasing my magic as my ‘special talent’ on variety shows. Either way, it’s a great chance to share what I love with more people. Maybe introduce them to it, too!”
Shinichi takes that in for a moment. He opens his mouth, but the door slams open before he can reply. They both turn to see a man with a camera slung around his neck and an overly determined look on his face.
Why is a paparazzo—?
“Hey, Kaito Kuroba and Shinichi Kudo!” the man shouts, causing heads to turn in the café. “Any comments on the latest rumors about a collaboration stage? Shinichi, the actor?”
“Not here,” Kaito mutters, expression hardening.
The paparazzo takes several rapid photos and continues pressing for answers. The staff begins to whisper among themselves, and one makes a phone call. “Come on, just a few words! The fans are dying to know!”
Shinichi gets up after Kaito does, placing a hand on Kaito’s shoulder as he takes another step forward. His own frustration is rising, but they need to handle this properly. “Stay calm.”
Kaito tenses up. Then, he sighs, his body relaxing as a small smile makes its way to his face as he throws Shinichi a look. “This is why you’re the senpai.”
In a blink, the smile is gone, replaced by a stern look. They approach the paparazzo together, and Kaito says, tone gentle but firm, “You have a job to do, I get that, but barging in here and disturbing everyone isn’t cool. Please respect our privacy.”
Shinichi adds, “There’s a time and place for everything. This isn’t it.”
And even though he knows the staff is already doing something, the way they move telling Shinichi they have a handle on this, Shinichi pulls out his phone. “I can either call the police or call my parents.”
The man flinches. Bingo. An instance where the Kudo’s connection with authorities comes in handy. “Or you can leave. Which one would you prefer?”
“Fine,” he grumbles, lowering his camera. “You ain’t that of a big shot.”
As the door closes behind the paparazzo, Shinichi gives a nod at the staffer holding a phone before Kaito overtakes his vision as he stands in his line of sight.
“Nice work,” Kaito says with a grin, raising a fist.
“Back at you,” Shinichi replies, bumping their fists together—only because he wouldn’t want Kaito to feel embarrassed by him ignoring that.
They return to their seats as the café returns to its usual buzz, as if the paparazzo barging in is just part of a normal day.
And perhaps it is.
Shinichi, the actor, who isn’t that big of a shot, huh?
No matter how much he denies it, in the end, Shinichi has become fond of acting. He enjoys the challenge of embodying different characters, the satisfaction of delivering a powerful performance, and the excitement of working alongside talented people—aspects he enjoys as an idol, too.
If Kaito thinks like that with his magic…
If people know Shinichi as an actor, then it simply means more opportunities to introduce him to his music, right? He may be able to reach the people he usually wouldn’t, to reach the people who don’t know they need the comfort he has hoped to provide others with.
Especially when he becomes a bigger shot.
Shinichi turns to Kaito and grins. “What about a rock version of a ballad?”
Time passes quickly, especially when schedules are full. Shinichi’s free time doesn’t align with Kaito’s, so they’ve purposefully set a single day a week before the event to practice together. But before that, they’ve just done rehearsals on their own; they’re just performing two songs anyway, so extensive preparation wasn’t needed.
On the day they meet up, they focus on their blockings and finalizing music arrangements.
The rehearsal isn’t anything like Shinichi expected. He thought it would be quite awkward. They’ve guested on shows, sure, and they’ve spent quite some time in that café, but they haven’t exactly been together in a non-public place, so to speak.
There are others, of course, with their teams taking videos of their practice to post on their vlogs or a BTS compilation footage. Still, it’s a bit more personal—especially when the staff gives them a lot of space and occasionally steps out to do other tasks.
Instead of tiptoeing and awkward laughing, what Shinichi founds is a surprising sense of comfort. Kaito is still Kaito, greeting everyone with a big smile on his face, but it’s almost more… subdued. There’s a fire in his eyes as he watches their movements in the mirrors, as he quietly listens to Shinichi’s suggestions and provides his own.
It’s a sight Shinichi is not unfamiliar with; he’s seen that same serious expression in the mirrors of a dark training room countless times before.
Of course, Shinichi has logically known that Kaito is a professional. He is a guest on those shows with Shinichi because they both are. But despite focusing on different genres, despite the seemingly constant smile on Kaito’s expression, he is just like Shinichi.
Just someone who’s doing his best for those who believe in him.
Kaito might seem like he gained popularity because he went against the current, but with a lot of pushback, doesn’t that mean he tried even harder to succeed?
(It’s something Shinichi has logically known, too. He always has, since the very beginning, after he watched Kaito’s debut performance.)
(He just never wanted to acknowledge it.)
They spent the entire afternoon practicing, trying to come closer to perfection as much as they could. Kaito provides several interesting suggestions to make their performance even more engaging, and Shinichi leaves that part to the expert in fanservice. His ideas help Shinichi release the tensions on his shoulders in order to be free, to embody the spirit of rock better. Or so Kaito says.
Kaito provides new things. Shinichi, on the other hand, focuses on honing what they do already have. Making sure that their arms are on the right angles, that they’re hitting the right pitches for their harmonies.
It’s a combination of innovation and precision, resulting in something that Shinichi could honestly call… pretty good?
He and Kaito, they surprisingly work well together.
One round of blockings and marking. Another round with the music and their 100%.
After completing another full routine, Shinichi slumps on the floor, panting and drenched in sweat. As a ballad singer, it’s not often he has to dance. Don’t get him wrong though; of course, it’s still something he trained hard for as an idol.
Still, it’s pretty rough.
Kaito hands him a bottle of water, which should be his manager’s job—
Oh. Since when did everyone else leave?
He voices the question as Kaito plops down beside him. Wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, Kaito replies, “I think they said something about grabbing food earlier.“
Shinichi sits up and hums, taking a swig of water. Now should be as good a time as any; he’d rather do this while no one’s taking a video to post on social media. The last thing he wants is anyone making up some weird story.
He heads to his bag and pulls out a small box, tossing it to Kaito who catches it with ease.
“What’s this?” Kaito squints, giving the box a shake. “Something for the performance?”
“Not really,” Shinichi answers.
“Can I open it?”
“Yeah. It’s yours.”
Kaito peeks inside and whips his head toward Shinichi, eyes wide.
The reaction is way too over the top for something so simple, seriously. It’s not a big deal. Shinichi just saw it in a shop and thought of Kaito, thought it would be nice to give him as a way of saying thanks. That’s all.
Kaito grins. “Thanks, Shinichi!”
Shinichu huffs. “You’re welcome.”
The room goes quiet, and for some reason, Shinichi gets the urge to shuffle his feet. Why is he feeling so damn nervous—
“Hey, Shinichi.”
“…what?”
“I know you said this isn’t for the performance, but I think I’ll—”
“We’re back!”
Shinichi’s heart jumps to his throat as the door opens, which is strange because he's not easily spooked, especially since it’s not like they're doing anything suspicious. There’s no reason for him to freak out about others ‘finding out’ he gave Kaito a gift or something. Because it’s not a big deal.
“Oooh, what did you guys buy?” Kaito skips toward the staff, who are carrying plastic bags of takeouts.
As they chat about the food, setting up the styrofoam containers on the table, Kaito looks over his shoulder and catches Shinichi’s gaze. Away from everyone’s eyes, he shows the box behind his back, and with a flick of his wrist, it’s gone.
Right. Wanted to be a magician.
Kaito winks and lifts a finger to his lips in a universal shh gesture.
Shinichi flushes. It’s seriously not a big deal. They don’t have to act like it’s some precious secret just between the two of—
“Shinichi-kun?” his manager says, approaching him with a towel. “Are you okay? Your face is bright red. Tired?”
Grabbing the towel, he wipes his face. If the movement also makes him cover his flushed cheeks, then that’s just how it is. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Nothing special.
It’s the day of the event.
The hallways are buzzing with activity as staff and performers bustle about. Shinichi passes by a rookie male idol group, who he would’ve ignored in the past (not because he’s an ass but because he genuinely thinks neither parties are interested in the other anyway)—but this time, he nods at one of the members who accidentally makes eye contact with him.
The other looks visibly taken aback, which makes Shinichi momentarily question why he’s even slightly influenced by Kuroba. But then the rookie’s mouth spreads into a wide grin. He quickly gives a 90-degree bow and shouts, “Good luck, Shinichi-senpai! I’m a fan!”
It’s Shinichi’s turn to be taken aback as the other members follow suit and bow. Scratching the back of his head, Shinichi awkwardly bows back and says, “Uh, thank you. Good luck too.”
After another moment of awkward greetings, Shinichi continues on his way, with his manager hurriedly following. He hasn’t gone far when a hand shoots out from one of the rooms and drags him inside. The door slams shut, muffling the sound of his manager asking if he’s all right over the noise outside.
Shinichi straightens his polo shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and adjusting the collar. He crosses his arms and asks, “What do you need, Sonoko?”
“I just wanted to talk!”
“Can’t we do that later?”
“If you want it to be caught among the hundreds of people filming everywhere, sure.”
Now that Shinichi isn’t too surprised by the sudden shift in scene, he realizes there are no staff in the room. Probably a room Sonoko reserved just for her and—
“Shinichi! It’s been a while.”
Shinichi smiles at Ran, his childhood friend who has also been the lead actress in the first feature film he starred in. She’s always been supportive of his music, someone he’ll always be fond of.
“You’re having a collab with Kaito-kun, right? How is it? What are you guys performing? He’s so talented, right?”
Even though she’s friends with Sonoko.
Shinichi sighs. “Just wait, won’t you? I can hear my manager crying outside already.”
“It feels a bit weird not having you as an emcee with us this year,” Ran says, a small smile forming on her face, “but I’m happy you’re not because I know you’ve wanted this for a long time. I don’t think you like the idea of the collab stage though, but…”
Sonoko huffs. “Oh come on! How can you not like that? It’s with Kaito-kun, the one and only face of rock!”
“Yeah, I didn’t like the idea.”
They both open their mouths, probably ready with another reprimand from Sonoko and a concerned question from Ran, but they abruptly stop.
Weird.
Well, whatever. “I need to go and prepare. Seriously, don’t you think locking the door with me in here will only cause more problems?”
He turns to the door and holds the knob. Looking over his shoulder, he adds, “Just look forward to our performance.”
As he steps outside and closes the door behind him, his manager’s expression shifts from worry to relief, then back to worry. Shinichi raises a brow. “What?”
“Uh, it’s just… it’s unusual to see you smile like that. But anyway, come on, the team’s waiting for you.”
Shinichi raises a hand and touches his lips… Huh.
He is smiling.
Weird.
Underneath the stage, Shinichi fiddles with his microphone. Used to handheld mics, he finds this type a bit challenging, especially since he can’t control the distance as precisely. Despite his reservations, though, the dry rehearsal showed that it picks up sound quite well, so he’s not complaining. Much.
The lights dim, and even though he can't see it, Shinichi can easily imagine what’s happening above. Kaito must be making his way to the grand piano in the center of the stage, leaving many to mistakenly believe that it’s Shinichi up there.
Quite a lot of people mentioned their similarities, after all.
And then:
Bright lights. Confused murmurs. Loud screams.
The ground shakes as the so-called ‘face of rock’ plays a slow, beautiful piano piece.
Shinichi closes his eyes and huffs.
“Shinichi-san, please be on standby.”
A staffer reapplies concealer on a spot on his cheek, probably because of all the fiddling he did, while another fixes the sleeve of his jacket. Shinichi thanks them and moves to position himself in the designated spot.
The sound of the piano flutters around him.
“Lifting in 10… 9…”
As the floor above him opens, light slowly bathes Shinichi, the crowd’s screams and the music louder than ever. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
“7… 6…”
Kaito’s favorite phrase from rehearsals echoes in his mind. It seems perfect right now.
“3… 2… and…”
He opens his eyes.
It’s showtime.
The crowd could’ve been screaming louder, they could’ve been booing, but Shinichi can’t tell anything—and it’s not just because of his in-ears.
As Kaito plays a beautiful rendition of a song from the first album Shinichi ever listened to, Shinichi sings, walking toward the grand piano and resting a hand on it. He catches Kaito’s eye, and they both break into smiles, which fortunately suits the lyrics; otherwise, Shinichi would’ve been concerned about their unprofessionalism.
The sound of his own heartbeat still pounds in his ears, but he presses on, holding the final note as long as he can. He looks at Kaito because, as they’ve agreed, showing their chemistry in this collaboration is important.
Kaito grins at him, and as the lights dim, Shinichi catches a glimpse of the other’s ear.
Wait, is he wearing…?
There’s no time to dwell on it. Kaito stands up and walks to the open space at the front of the stage. He turns to the right and crosses his arms with casual confidence. Shinichi follows and positions himself beside him, their shoulders brushing as he mirrors the pose.
When the lights turn on, Shinichi lets his muscle memory take over, doing the routine they’ve practiced together for an entire afternoon. He knows it’s not as perfect as he wants it to be, not with their limited time, but it shouldn’t have to be.
This collab stage is for their fans to see a different side of them, perhaps even introducing their fanbases to each other. And they’ve already succeeded in that.
When will they ever see Shinichi perform a rock version of his own song?
The spotlight on him is like the sun. Shinichi is so caught up in the moment that the music seems to take on colors and he can taste the starlight. He spins and accidentally puts too much force, making him stumble a step closer to Kaito than rehearsed. They almost collide, but Kaito holds his shoulders in a way that seems rehearsed, and face-to-face, they sing the chorus.
Well, with that, Shinichi confirms the crowd is cheering for them. The screams are so loud they pierce through their in-ear monitors, the floor beneath them trembling in their excitement.
Shinichi uses their position to glance at Kaito, and he’s right; Kaito is wearing the earring he gave him the last time—a hoop with a blue gem connected by chains to another hoop, a clover dangling. So that’s what he meant about it being for the performance…
But there’s no time to dwell on it either, the song’s bridge signaling their cue to break apart and engage with the audience on opposite sides of the stage.
It’s a novel experience, to be this energetic on stage, this constant movement. Shinichi is used to sitting on a sofa or standing still during his performances, and he still likes that, don’t get him wrong, but this brings about a different kind of exhilaration.
As the final chorus approaches, they converge in the center of the stage, both dripping with sweat. Shinichi fiddles with his microphone as he prepares for his last high note.
Kaito raises a fist mid-phrase, and Shinichi raises his own to bump them together.
Kaito does a ‘you go ahead’ gesture, and Shinichi is unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
He takes a deep breath before belting out the high note, holding the microphone close. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Kaito doing jazz hands, making him turn toward him with a raised brow.
Kaito returns the gesture with a raised brow of his own.
Shinichi grins, and Kaito mirrors it.
Their performance ends. As the lights dim, they both quickly make their way backstage, high-fiving all the staff cheering for them in the hallway. Shinichi has to switch outfits for his upcoming solo performance, while Kaito heads for the mini-event happening on the red carpet.
They exchange a look, nodding and bumping fists once more before running in opposite directions.
Still a lot to do. They can talk later.
Shinichi finds himself back at the café near the studio, sitting across from the same person who introduced him to the place. Soft music plays in the background as they discuss topics from seemingly trivial things, such as their choice of drinks, to something more professional like their upcoming projects.
They hadn’t been able to meet right after the festival, December to January being extremely busy months in their careers. They kept in touch though, exchanging messages after Shinichi got Kaito’s number from his manager (who had it since the first time Kaito invited him for a drink), so they’ve already talked about their collab and the overwhelmingly positive response from the general public.
The following rise in streaming numbers of Shinichi’s song was a surprise… just like how his idol life is indeed a surprise to everyone else.
He has been quite envious of Kaito’s popularity, how he’s managed to succeed with music alone, especially in a genre that even used to be niche. That Kaito didn’t need to rely on other things like acting.
By now though, he’s already talked with Kaito enough that he can admit it without feeling awkward—to himself, that is. Not out loud. Not ever.
There is, though, something he would like to ask him.
Shinichi stares at Kaito, who is currently busy scooping something from his drink. Around him are other customers going about their days, some of them familiar faces, in a place that wasn’t a part of his ‘routine’ before. Haibara has brought up a suggestion, one that he would’ve immediately ignored before too, but perhaps she’s never wrong for a reason.
“Hey, Kaito.”
“Mhmm?”
“What about forming a unit?”