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Tsukasa Tenma is a failure.
That’s what he feels like, at least.
A failure of an actor, a failure of a friend, a failure of a son, a failure of a big brother. A failure of a human being.
He grips the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, glaring at the imposter before him. His eyes are bloodshot red. His cheeks are tainted with small, transparent droplets that don’t belong on his face. His hair is a mess, blond and peach strands sticking out as they please. He looks pale. Way too pale.
That’s not him. That can’t be him.
Because Tsukasa Tenma is a star, and the one looking back at him is far from one.
What happened? Why is he feeling like this? Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day, he followed his usual routine; wake up, go to school, try to pay attention in class (and get distracted by Rui in the process), practice with his troupe, go home and make dinner for Saki, rinse and repeat. There’s nothing to warrant these feelings, so why won’t they go away? Why are they even there in the first place?
Tsukasa considers himself a happy person. He’s satisfied with his life. More than satisfied, really. He has a supportive family, which includes the best little sister he could’ve ever asked for. He has a house to go back to after school, with his own bedroom (one that’s lacking in walls, but who is he to complain). He has friends, both from his troupe and outside of it. His troupe… He’s part of an acting troupe, and an amazing one at that. He gets the privilege of chasing his dream alongside three of the best people he’s ever met, three people that mean the world to him. Tsukasa has no reason to feel anything other than happy.
How selfish. He feels pathetic.
These moments of weakness shouldn’t exist. He’s supposed to be a star. Stars aren’t… whatever he is right now.
‘All stars burn out eventually, don’t they?’ A voice whispers.
‘But that doesn’t happen so easily, now does it? Isn’t it a bit too early for a supernova to take place?’ Another replies.
He puffs out a breath and closes his eyes.
It’s been months, he should be over it by now. But…
He remembers that performance like it was yesterday. The feelings he had as he realized the true gap between him and his favorite actor have resurfaced, it seems. Even now, his dream appears incredibly distant. Try as he might, there’s only so much he can do against a phoenix that’s constantly flying away while his feet stay stuck on the ground. Each time he thinks he may be able to reach it, he’s proven wrong. Time and time again.
He knows he shouldn’t compare himself to others, but his troupmates make it look so… natural . Like it’s as easy as breathing. And it should be, he’s been training to be an actor for years. And yet he still struggles. Rui often has to spend more time helping him with his character than the girls, and it makes him want to cry out in frustration. He feels like he’s made no progress at all. That may be an exaggeration, he has improved. But not as much or as quickly as the others, and it’s disheartening.
The worst part, though, is that it’s not just his acting that’s bothering him. Acting is one thing. That’s something he’s doing wrong, that’s something that can be fixed.
His appearance, his personality, everything that makes Tsukasa himself… That’s not something he’s doing wrong, that’s something that is wrong with him .
Any other day, he’d be able to hide his deep-rooted insecurities behind a laugh and a loud proclamation of his greatness. It’s not an act, but it’s definitely not the whole truth either. Because the truth is that even Tsukasa has his moments, and right now, for whatever reason, he can’t help but feel worthless. He grieves his own uselessness, not as an actor this time, but as a person.
Tears prickle the corners of his eyes. He opens them again and regrets doing so as soon as he gets a glimpse of the mess in front of him. He truly feels nothing short of pathetic.
He wants a hug. He really wants a hug. Or someone to hold his hand, brush his hair, wipe his tears, tell him that he’s wrong, that everything will be okay. Anything.
Tsukasa wants to feel loved.
That feels selfish and unrealistic. Who could ever love him? He feels unlovable. He is loved, he knows that. But for some reason his brain refuses to accept that. He’s surrounded by people. He’s no longer that lonely child that would sit by the piano for hours, playing anything that came to mind to drown out the suffocating silence. Yet his heart remains hungry, he continues to feel alone even when he’s anything but.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic, in every sense of the word.
Things quickly become a blur. His body tiredly moves from place to place, though he’s too out of it to understand what he’s doing. He can’t see, he can’t think. He feels like an outsider. He’s part of the audience now, no longer the main lead of the unpredictable show that is his life. Do his muscles ache? He can’t quite tell. Where is he? What is he doing? Everything feels so vague, he can’t make sense of anything. It feels as though time has stopped. For a second, he wonders if this is what death feels like. The thought would normally terrify him, but all he can feel right now is numb.
A strong blast of wind hits him square in the face and causes him to shiver.
He blinks. His fingers follow a familiar pattern. Then there’s the sound of faraway theme-park music and an irritating beeping noise, which is swiftly replaced by something much more pleasant.
“Tsukasa?”
Tsukasa tightens his hold on the phone. He feels dizzy. When did he get here? Time passes him by again. He clutches the arm holding his phone and presses the object as close to his ear as is possible.
The soothing voice continues — soft, worried, “What’s wrong? It’s not common for you to be awake at this time.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing leaves him. His throat threatens to close up. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.
“Tsukasa,” the voice repeats. He hangs onto every word like it’s his lifeline, “I’m Rui. You called about five minutes ago, it’s currently one-twenty AM. Can you hear me? Focus on my voice.”
“ Rui.. ” He’s finally able to utter out, “Rui, I– I don’t know– I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t– I can’t–” Tsukasa chokes back a sob. He hasn’t had a breakdown like this in years. How could this happen? Why now? “Rui, I’m scared.”
“I need you to breathe with me.” His director says, steady, but tender and caring at the same time. He hears a slow intake of breath followed by an equally gentle and long exhale. Tsukasa tries to copy it.
The first time, it’s too rushed. He doesn’t inhale enough air and he exhales too early. He hiccups and sniffles midway through. It’s short, panicked, and too fast.
He tries again. He inhales too harshly this time and gasps in turn. His chest hurts. He lets out a sob and tries again.
He doesn’t choke this time, but it’s still more agitated than it should be.
He tries again. His chest hurts less now. His cries quiet down a bit, but he continues to breathe quicker than what should be considered normal.
He tries again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again.
He loses count of how many times he copies Rui’s breaths, but eventually, he gets it right.
He breathes one more time, calmer than before, but still shaking, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” ‘I don’t know,’ is what he wants to say. ‘I don’t know and it scares me.’ He feels as if he’s lost complete control of his emotions. It’s horrifying, more so than any disgusting, nightmare-inducing bug that may be out there. Rui takes his silence as a sign to continue, “Can you tell me where you are?”
Now with a clearer mind, Tsukasa looks around.
Oh.
“I’m at Phoenix Wonderland. By the entrance.”
“I’ll be there in five.”
Tsukasa sputters, “Wha– No, Rui–”
“I’ll be there in five.” The director repeats, “That’s final, Tsukasa.”
…What can he even say to that?
He huffs in annoyance. The last thing he wants is to inconvenience his best friend like that. Still, to have someone care for him this much… It fills him with warmth.
“It’s a thirty-minute walk at best…” He argues weakly.
“I know.” And then the call ends.
Tsukasa sighs, both exasperated and fond. He looks around again and breathes out a relieved sigh. There aren’t any people around, he hasn’t caused a scene, thankfully. In any other situation, Tsukasa would’ve revelled in having everyone’s eyes on him. Right now, however, that’s the last thing he needs.
He’s not sure how much more time passes, but it’s not long before Rui shows up. He’s running, flushed and panting, his chest heaving. He catches sight of Tsukasa and speeds up his pace. The blond wants to scold him; he ran all the way here and he clearly needs a break! He shouldn’t overexert his body like that!
But he doesn’t get the chance to say anything, as strong arms engulf him in a tight embrace before he can even blink.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay now.” Rui sounds like he’s reassuring himself, more than anything.
Tsukasa brings hesitant arms up to hug the other back. Once his hands reach the other’s back, he clings onto the taller’s hoodie. He buries his face on the crook of his director’s neck and feels some of the purple hair strands fall on his face, tickling him. A hand reaches up to cup the blond’s head. Tsukasa feels it combing through his hair.
…Ah. He really doesn’t want to cry again, but he just might if Rui keeps holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world.
A kiss is pressed on his head. He feels warm.
“Do you want to sleep over at my house or should we go to yours?”
So, so warm.
“Mmm…” With the emotional turmoil out of the way, all that’s left is a vast exhaustion. He’s tired. “Mine is closer.”
“Alright.” Rui pulls away, breaking off the hug. Tsukasa mourns the loss of warmth. “Let’s get going then. I’m sure you’re very tired.”
Tired is an understatement.
He doesn’t voice his thoughts. Instead, he nods and lets Rui hold his hand — lovingly, like he’s a delicate jewel that must be treated with utmost care. True to his role as a director, the purple-haired boy guides him, allowing the blond to lean on him and use him as support. Tsukasa blindly follows. Rui could take him to the ends of the earth and beyond, Tsukasa would follow without second thought. Perhaps that’s why they’re known as the ‘weirdo wombo combo’, ‘oddball 1 and 2’, ‘partners in crime’; where one goes, the other follows.
(Tsukasa would never admit it out-loud, but those nicknames have become something very dear to him. It feels like a confirmation of how close he and Rui are, enough for others to notice and put a name to it. It feels special.)
They spend the way to Tsukasa’s house in silence. It’s not deafening, like cold nights spent by the phone, waiting for good news, for a “She’s better. We’re bringing her home”. It’s comfortable, warm. That’s a feeling he’s rapidly beginning to associate with Rui: warmth.
It doesn’t take very long for them to reach their destination.
(Tsukasa deliberately ignores the fact that he let his friend lead the way, not paying attention to his surroundings. He doesn’t question why Rui knows the entire way to his house by heart.)
They go through the living room, up the stairs, and then enter his room. Tsukasa practically throws himself onto the bed, burying his face in the pillows.
Rui chuckles to himself. “You’re pretty worn out, aren’t you?” He says softly. The sentence is followed by an additional weight on the mattress, right next to him. The blond rolls around, being met with Rui’s way-too-close face. He smiles at him like Tsukasa is his whole world. His cheeks begin to burn. Oh no.
Tsukasa merely hums and goes back to hiding against his pillows.
They stay like that for a little while, simply enjoying each other’s presence, before Rui decides to speak up, “Can you tell me what happened? I think we should talk about it.”
His shoulders tense, “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Tsukasa.”
The blond sighs. He turns his head and faces Rui, who’s looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. He looks like he won’t let this go, but his gaze doesn’t lose its usual warmth. It never does. Maybe that’s what invites Tsukasa to be honest about his feelings for once. “Do we have to?”
“No…” Rui looks off to the side briefly as he says that, seeming almost disappointed. That’s enough to make Tsukasa want to backtrack. He’d do anything to wipe that downcast expression off his face. Rui looks back at him and speaks before he can dwell on it, “But I’d like for you to tell me.” The director reaches out his hands, one holds Tsukasa’s own while the other cups his cheek, gently caressing it. Tsukasa believes he might genuinely explode (and not from Rui's experiments this time, but rather the man himself). “I want to be someone you can rely on. I want you to place your trust in me.”
“I already do,” he hurries to say, “I trust you, Rui.”
“With shows,” the other replies, softly, almost in a whisper, “But not with yourself.”
With that, Rui falls quiet, as if giving him time to think about what he said. And he does think. It’s all Tsukasa has been doing today.
‘You trust me with shows, not with yourself.’
Can that really be true? No… right?
There are a few things Tsukasa knows for certain; he wants to be a star, even if that dream seems unattainable at times; Saki Tenma is the best little sister in the entire universe and he wants nothing more than for her to be happy; he’s lucky, so incredibly lucky — for his friends, for his family, for how far he’s come; and last but not least, he trusts Rui. He trusts him wholeheartedly, more than anyone could ever begin to understand. Of course he does! What kind of actor would he be if he didn’t? As his director, it’s only natural that–
Oh. That’s the problem, isn’t it?
He trusts Rui as his director, not as Rui.
...Oh.
The man in question gives him a soft smile, “Have you figured it out?”
Tsukasa doesn’t know if he loves or hates how well he can read him. “I have. I’m sorry.”
The taller responds with a small laugh, “What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong.” That damned hand hasn’t stopped tenderly carassing his cheek, and his hands also continue to be held captive by his friend’s slightly bigger one. If Rui’s words hadn’t been enough, then surely he would’ve cracked after a few more seconds of such tender actions.
It’s okay for him to be a bit self-indulgent, right? He leans into the touch and cuddles up to Rui. Certainly, it must be okay…
“I don’t know. For not fully trusting you.” He hums and closes his eyes, “I want to tell you, but I don’t know where to start.”
“Could you walk me through what led you to Phoenix Wonderland?”
Tsukasa thinks back to everything that had happened that day. He replays the day's events in his mind like it’s a movie, except some of the scenes are missing and a few others he can barely make out. “I don’t know,” he says earnestly. He recounts whatever he can remember, “I’m not sure how or when it started, but sometime after I got home from practice I… I started feeling self-conscious, I suppose. And that’s nothing new to me, but…”
“It went beyond your acting prowess this time, I presume?”
Tsukasa hums in affirmation. “I’ve never– No, that’s a lie. I have thought of myself that way before, but it never… I mean, it was worse in middle school–” He’s not used to stumbling over his words like this. Everything Tsukasa Tenma does, every word he says — everything screams ‘confidence’. This is anything but, and it leaves him vulnerable. Tsukasa hates being vulnerable, it makes him feel weak. There’s something screaming at him, telling him that it’s not too late to back out. Deflect, ignore, forget. Play the part of Tsukasa Tenma the World Future Star, not of Tsukasa. But it’s Rui. He can be vulnerable with Rui. He wants to believe he can. “I haven’t had an episode like this one in a while. I thought I had gotten over it. I was supposed to have gotten over it.”
Rui hums considerately. He speaks in a soft, almost hesitant tone, “Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, but… Do you think that maybe instead of ‘getting over it’, you simply learned how to shove those feelings down?”
Tsukasa gives it some thought. He opens his eyes and finds enchanting gold staring right back. “...I think so. It’s much easier, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Rui says with a bittersweet smile, “But it can only work for so long.” Something tells him the other boy speaks from experience.
Tsukasa lets out a small giggle, “Well, I know that now!”
Rui responds with a laugh and a smile of his own, "I can imagine."
Tsukasa observes him. His long eyelashes, his pink cheeks, his soft smile. His hair splayed out on the pillow, purple and cyan strands falling over his eyes, casting a faint shadow on his face. Those captivating golden eyes he never wants to look away from, gazing back at him like Tsukasa is the only thing worth looking at. It’s then that he makes his choice.
“I don’t want to keep running away anymore.” He tells him, “But I can’t face this alone. I tried once and I failed. I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”
Rui beams at him. Bright, gorgeous, gentle. “Tsukasa…”
“Ah, but–” The aforementioned blond interrupts, “I need time. I’m not used to this, I need to… gather my thoughts first, I guess. I want to rely on you, I trust you. I just…” He trails off, unsure of how to explain it.
It turns out he doesn’t need to, because Rui understands. Rui understands.
“I’ll wait.” The taller leans closer, to the point their noses are barely touching. “I’ll wait however long it takes, I’m not going anywhere.”
Tsukasa laughs. His entire face feels like it’s on fire. “That feels like something out of one of your scripts.”
“Does it?” Rui laughs with that signature cat-like smile he’s grown to love. "It's a good thing we're both 'show freaks' then, as Nene puts it. Dramaticism is our love language, is it not?"
Ah. Love.
"Heh. I suppose it is."
So that’s what this is.
That can’t be good, can it?
Tsukasa Tenma is in love with Rui Kamishiro, his best friend and director. The guy who is constantly going on about how much he wants to shoot him out of a cannon. Oh no.
…Well. That’s a problem for Future Tsukasa to deal with.
Present Tsukasa is too busy cuddling his ̶c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ best friend to sleep.
He’s going to hate Present Tsukasa in the morning.
(He did, in fact, end up resenting Present Tsukasa — Past Tsukasa, technically — the following morning. Only a little bit though. Cuddling with Rui was 12000% worth it.)