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“Toya, man!” Akito grins, an arm around Toya’s shoulders and a hand in his hair. “That was insane. You’re gettin’ ahead of me, seriously.”
Toya can’t help but chuckle, leaning into the touch he’d once shied away from as he feels his face flush red. He hasn’t quite adjusted to Akito’s affections, even after all this time– or, rather, he hasn’t adjusted to the feelings that they stir up in him.
Naming the feeling had taken time. Toya has always been bad with emotions, his own or others’; it’s no surprise that it took him so long to figure out. Warmth, fluttering in his stomach, thoughts he can’t ever get a handle on– Tsukasa and Saki had practically beaten him into realising it, and even more so into addressing their true nature.
Toya likes Akito. He has a crush, as his classmates might call it.
Tsukasa had been supremely pleased, “Toya, my dear, falling in love for the very first time!” Initially, Toya had protested that; this couldn’t be called love, this fleeting feeling in his chest whenever they touch couldn’t possibly classify as that all-consuming love that’s always held in such high regard by those around him. And yet, as time passed, it became more clear. Truly, when his mind and body are consumed entirely by heat, turning liquidy and warm at the slightest hint of affection from the boy– can’t that be classed as love? Could Toya be faulted for calling it such?
And so, Toya had accepted it. Aoyagi Toya is in love with Shinonome Akito.
That only becomes more clear now.
“Shit, dude,” his partner sighs, eyes still alight from their performance. He’s always beautiful like this, caught up in the post-show high; cheeks flushed with effort, sweat glistening against tanned skin with his hair in adorable disarray, silver piercings glinting in backstage lights– it takes everything Toya has not to comment. The redhead smiles, “We fucking killed that, partner.”
Toya can’t help smiling back. “I agree,” he says, just loud enough over the cheers and music echoing back into the performers’ area. “You were stunning tonight, Akito. You never fail to amaze me.”
“Shut it, man, flatterin’ me like that,” although Akito’s voice is only happy, laced with laughter as he lightly shoves Toya’s shoulder. (Why does that simple act of fondness make his heart burn?) “That was both of us, yeah? Your solo– fuckin’ breathtaking.”
And that— Toya’s heart skips a beat, maybe two or three. Breathtaking, Akito said, he finds him beautiful he finds him breathtaking– Toya swears the world stops. He’s warm all over. He’s staring. He’s staring– “Toya?”
“—sorry,” he rushes out, although he feels fuzzy from the compliment. “Just– post-live… feelings.” Flimsy excuse.
But Akito buys it, laughing affectionately, ruffling Toya’s hair again. “Right, man— gotta cool down after a performance like that, eh?” He grins, and glances towards the backstage door. “Speakin’ of– I’m gonna go outside to clear my head. Wanna come with?”
Truly, Toya would love to; surely there’s something romantic in that, wandering the nighttime alleys with victory fresh on their palates. But he can’t– his head feels fuzzy, oozing affection, almost overloaded on Akito. Just that, Akito; his smile, his warmth, his scent. His simple presence. He needs a moment away from it all before he breaks.
Toya shakes his head, and his partner nods, giving him a nudge on the cheek as he stands (and Toya swears his heart stops). “Alright, then. Be back in five– or come lookin’ for me, I dunno.”
Toya nods again, watching rapt as Akito walks away; the sway of his body, chains glimmering in the lights. A final glance is tossed back at him, smiling– Toya smiles back.
He smiles, he can’t stop it now that he doesn’t have to hold back. He feels lovesick in every way; butterflies wasn’t a feeling he had up until Akito, despite performing in front of crowds since he was a child. They’re everywhere, now– his stomach and his head, everything is whirling. The images won’t leave; Akito on that stage, voice looping in Toya’s mind, there’s so much to admire. Even with the boy gone, Toya can’t catch a break from his feelings. Not that he particularly wants to– it’s a pleasant kind of drowning.
Toya is in love with Akito, there’s no other way to describe it. He couldn’t use another word, now, not even if he wanted to; all of this, it’s like a drug, breaking through the usual dull grey of Toya’s life. Every colour is highlighted, tinted vibrant orange; everything is unbelievably, uncontrollably warm. Sounds are sharper and lights brighter and everything, everything; it’s all because of him. All because of Akito. Toya couldn’t be more grateful.
He thinks, sometimes, about confessing these feelings. Tsukasa and Saki have encouraged it, and he can’t help but agree with what they always say– partners isn’t nearly enough to describe them anymore. Warm half-hugs after shows, the gentle voice Toya only ever hears when something’s wrong, just how familiar he is now with the sensation of fingers in his hair; somewhere, it breaches the boundary of partnership. In some way, Akito must know. Toya can’t be faulted for believing– for hoping. Hoping that, in some way, Akito loves him too.
The stage lights change suddenly, and it jolts Toya from his reverie; right, he’s still backstage. And Akito still isn’t back— it’s been more than five minutes, he’s sure.
Quickly, Toya stands, excitement building in his chest. He’ll go find Akito; an excuse for that almost-romantic walk, and maybe– an excuse to share all these thoughts, all these feelings that are almost welling over. He can’t be wrong for it, can he? He can’t be wrong for wishing and wanting.
Briskly, he walks towards the alley door, where Akito had gone. He already can’t wait to see him again, and it’s not even been ten minutes; he really is lovesick, isn’t he? He swings the door open, and there’s the familiar flash of orange—
“Ah, Akit—“
—pressed up against the wall, being kissed breathless.
“…Oh.”
Toya stands still for a moment. Longer than he should, really, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight; Akito, his partner, the boy he trusts the boy he loves– his cheeks are flushed in a way that clearly isn’t from their performance, and the arms Toya has become so familiar with are wrapped tight around the stranger’s waist. They must be enjoying themselves, because despite Toya’s entrance being perfectly audible, it takes them a few seconds to pull away. Toya watches as Akito blinks open his eyes, expression a little fuzzy. And he drags his gaze up– and his eyes meet Toya’s.
Akito’s expression shifts instantly. Not quite horror, but too much to be described simply as embarrassment; the stranger turns, too, regarding Toya with something akin to confusion. Akito opens his mouth, but—
Toya spins on his heel, hearing the door swing shut behind him.
He can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he dashes towards the backstage couches. Akito was– Akito is– all of that, with someone Toya doesn’t know, someone who isn’t Toya—
He crashes against the cushions, instantly pulling his legs up and burying his warm warm warm face into his knees. The reason Akito had taken longer than he said he would– it had been– it was that? Toya was waiting, and he– there he was, kissing some pretty stranger. Arms around their waist instead of Toya’s shoulders, their bodies so close, Toya hadn’t quite been able to tell who was who– their lips.
Toya has always held a particular admiration for Akito’s lips, as embarrassing as it is to admit. They’re pretty. Torn, usually, because Akito tends to pick at the skin, but always smoothed over with some kind of flavoured chapstick. A pretty silver ring curls over his bottom lip, “heck of an infection,” Akito told him, once, “worth it, though,” and Toya couldn’t help but agree. A freckle sits just at the corner of his lips, and– of course, those lips, they produce such beautiful sounds. When they practise, Toya knows he stares, but Akito is captivating when he sings. Watching him move is almost addicting.
Toya has felt Akito’s lips only once. It had been an accident, really, but he can’t help repeating the moment in his head; pressed tight against the wall of a live house, and Akito against him, grinning against the shell of Toya’s ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, partner. You beat ‘em by a mile.”
And now—
Toya will never feel those lips again, will he?
He curls into himself tighter, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t cry, not over this– not over something as simple as a crush. That would be unfair. Akito hasn’t done anything wrong, if either of them have, it’s Toya, growing too expectant, rushing out to find his partner like that—
Someone grabs his shoulder, and he jumps.
“…Toya,” comes Akito’s voice, a little breathless, and Toya can’t help but wonder– is that breathlessness from rushing inside to find him, or was it stolen away into a stranger’s mouth? He speaks again, “…Hey, look at me.”
In some way, Toya doesn’t really… want to. He doesn’t want to see this, doesn’t want to face this. But it’s Akito asking, so… he raises his head, tilting up to look at his partner.
Akito’s face is stained with blotchy blush, and there’s a visibly failed attempt to wipe away black lipstick Toya knows he hadn’t been wearing before. His eyes are wide, and his lips are slightly parted– he’s pretty. “H-Hey, partner—“
“Sorry,” Toya interrupts, because he really is sorry. “I-I didn’t mean to, um– like that. S-Sorry I didn’t just wait for you.”
“No, no, man,” Akito says, waving his hand in protest and looking just about mortified. “I didn’t– shit, man, I’m so sorry. Uh– lost track of time, y’know, shouldn’t’ve, uh—“
That’s right, you shouldn’t’ve, Toya’s head butts in, and he curses the thought because why why why? Akito has every right to kiss who he wants, Toya’s crush doesn’t bind him to anything. It’s ridiculous for him to act like he has any claim over the boy.
Akito sighs, dragging a palm down his face. “Just— sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was just… surprised.” Toya rests his chin against his knees again, staring forward into nothing, trying not to let his grief show. His partner walks around the couch, sitting down beside him; their hips and shoulders bump together, and Akito leans the smallest bit of weight onto Toya. They sit in dim silence, music pulsing through from the stage. And then, eventually, almost a whisper,
“…Takeshi.”
Toya glances to the side, humming in question; Akito keeps his eyes down, face practically glowing pink. “That’s… their name,” he mumbles, picking at a loose seam of the couch. “I-I wasn’t sure if you recognised them, but… we’ve done a few lives together before.”
Toya nods. Not a total stranger, then. Akito continues, “I-I’ve noticed them a couple times, y’know, kinda… caught my eye. N-Not like that, not fully, but…”
“…You’re interested in them,” Toya fills in, because having to hear Akito say it first might just break him.
“…Yeah, kinda,” Akito confesses on an exhale, wiping his palms across his sweatpants. Toya isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the boy so nervous. “I-I don’t know if, uh… interested is totally right, but, um… y’know. I saw ‘em whilst I was out there, we got to talking, and then… yeah.” He glances across to Toya. “Seriously, I’m so sorry, man.”
“It’s fine,” Toya chokes out, because really, it is– or, at least, it should be. He inhales, “Are you going to keep… talking to them?”
“Yeah. They gave me their number, before– y’know.” Akito shifts, pressing a little closer to Toya. “I swear, though, it’s not a huge deal. I’m not replacing you, any shit like that– this ain’t a music thing. It doesn’t change anything between us, ‘kay? You’re still my partner.”
Oh, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? This doesn’t change anything between them, this shouldn’t affect Toya at all, and yet– there’s a bitterness in his throat, unrelenting and hot in all the ways Akito isn’t, almost burning. Nothing is changing, nothing will ever change they’re still partners, just partners, and that’s all they ever will be. It’ll never be anything more than that. Maybe Toya was a fool for thinking otherwise.
“…That’s alright,” he says, despite how much it isn’t. “I support you, Akito.” That much is true– Toya will always support him, just like a good partner should.
Akito exhales, clearly relieved. “Cool. Thanks, man.” Soft hair tickles Toya’s neck as Akito rests his head against his shoulder.
They stay like that for a while. It makes Toya feel a little sick, in truth, but he can’t find it in himself to pull away; if Akito and Takeshi really do go forward with getting to know each other, going further than kissing behind live houses, this might be one of the last times Toya gets to do this. He has to take what he can.
Eventually, the stage at the front of the live house goes quiet, performers and guests filtering out of the exits. Toya and Akito head their separate ways for the night– walking each other home would add far too much time to their journey either way. As soon as he’s away from the live house, Toya calls Tsukasa.
“Akito likes someone,” is all that he says, but he’s sure it’s enough. He knows his tone is back to that dull monotony, but he can’t fight it, not even at all of his brother’s encouragements; you’ll find someone else, they might not go anywhere. This isn’t the end of anything.
But to Toya, it is; Akito likes someone, someone who isn’t him. Akito could be falling in love. Akito could be on the phone with them right now.
Toya should have known better than to hope.