Chapter Text
Mikey tried to keep his face neutral while signing the document in front of him. One of way too many he’s signed this week but probably the most important one.
One that would help his career take off, leaving everyone from his agency behind.
One that was making his insides shake in excitement.
Unfortunately, the second party of the agreement couldn’t be here today. Tetta told him why but the explanations didn’t sink into Mikey’s brain which was filled with utter disappointment. It made sense.
Of course, it made sense
Haruchiyo was way more popular than him and his schedule was probably busy as fuck. You would know that by looking at his planned concert dates this month alone.
He was a star.
Haruchiyo was the most successful idol of their generation, selling out venues and making all his albums platinum. He was also the face of isotonic drinks and a model for fashion brands.
The public called him Japan’s Sweetheart for how amazing and stunningly pretty he was.
Meanwhile, Mikey was… still an underground idol. His best gig so far outside of small concerts he performed was shooting a commercial for Monster energy drinks.
It gave him some recognition, sure.
“That emo idol” had a nice ring to it — didn’t fall from the truth either. Mikey liked black.
”We scheduled your first meeting this Thursday at SanStar agency,” said Tetta. “It’s gonna be his day off so you’ll have time to talk and plan your first date.” The man did an air quote saying the last word.
Right, it was just an… agreement. A stupid drunken idea that somehow managed to be pushed through.
Who would have thought that getting wasted after Haruchiyo’s concert — he was supposed to train his choreography that day but sue him — and throwing up on his manager’s shoes when he finally got to the studio, while crying that he loved the pink-haired idol and wanted to get closer to him would… make him sign an NDA and a fake-dating contract?
Life was weird—
“Thanks for this.”
“You better jump on his popularity and earn us enough money for this stunt to pay the agency back, brat.” Tetta scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “I negotiated for you to have three months. And that’s halving your paychecks for the next five years.”
Okay, so he should probably come back to living with Grandpa. But it seemed worth it.
—Because of course Tetta made his dream come true but made it about money.
“I’m not signing this.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.
“You are.” Koko slammed his hand against the contract on the desk. “They already paid.”
“I don’t care.” Haruchiyo hissed and crossed his arms. “You’re not selling my private life to help some homeless idol wannabe get his popularity.”
That was a bit hypocritical but fuck this.
It was his life. His life. Honestly, Koko should at least fucking ask before he presented him with the deal. That was already discussed without him.
“It’s just three months. One casual date per week, two outings for social events throughout that time, including the award ceremony in June — you were nominated for the best album by the way.” His manager spread the documents across the table despite the fact he probably already knew these agreements by heart. “You show with a Monster drink on a shared Instagram story. You tweet about him and to him and in three months you announce that you decided to stay friends but he’s an amazing rising star.”
Haruchiyo rolled his eyes. “No.”
“I’m not asking, brat. They already paid.”
The man slid a piece of paper that looked like an invoice towards him — the number at the bottom was… impressive. Not enough to make his head spin, not after so many years of successful career but he recognised big money when he saw them. How the fuck did an underground agency had that money?
“10% goes for your clothing and makeup fund, 50% straight for your bank account.”
He perked up at this. 50% was generous as fuck if you knew Kokonoi.
“That’s not like you.”
Koko just grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t like that so I ripped them off.”
“Three months. Not a day longer. And I hope that emo boy knows this.”
He didn’t expect their first meeting to look like this.
Mikey has been Haruchiyo’s fan for ages — literally years . The pink-haired idol’s music was lifting his spirits after a hard day and motivating him to keep pushing even when little people would come to his concerts.
He saw his concerts, his commercials, and his radiant smile during meet-and-greets.
Over the years he’s been following Haruchiyo’s career, he’d never seen him scowl like this.
“Pleasure.”
Just one word. Mikey felt something sink inside him and dropped his hand that was outstretched between them. Haruchiyo didn’t even move to shake it. Silver chains around his wrists jingled.
“Right.” Mikey cleared his throat and rubbed his bluntly rejected hand against the fabric of his pants. Fuck, he was getting more nervous than excited suddenly.
“This is going amazing.” By his side, Tetta clasped his hands. “I hope your idol can be a little bit more expressive in public, Kokonoi. We made a deal.”
“Don’t worry, he will.” The fourth person in the room — Kokonoi Hajime, Haruchiyo’s manager — looked like a snake. It had something to do with his eyes and long white hair, seamlessly blending with a white shirt. He placed a perfectly manicured hand on Haruchiyo’s shoulder and squeezed. “When it’s part of the job.”
“Technically he’s already on the job.”
“No, he’s on the job when someone is watching. Of course, NDA stands at all moments of our… cooperation and after the deal ends. I hope your idol can respect that.”
Great, Mikey loved the ironic tone in which the man said “idol”. Always happy to know people didn’t respect his job, yay. He rolled his eyes.
“I work in the industry,” he butted in before Tetta could make it somehow worse. “I know how it works.”
In front of him, Haruchiyo huffed humorlessly.
“I do count on that.” Kokonoi squinted his eyes. “If not… well, the contract does state the financial compensation in case you don’t hold your end.”
Yeah, he knew. He had read through the entire thing at least three times before signing. It was too wild to be true. A PR stunt with an idol he had a celebrity crush on for years.
And who was now looking at him like he was something less than him.
“It was stated pretty clearly.”
If the NDA was broken, Mikey could forget about getting a single yen out of his paycheck — any paycheck, really — for the next ten years and Tetta would surely rope him in some extra work in addition to that.
Life was good. Fucking amazing even.
For the rest of the meeting, Haruchiyo didn’t send him a single look. Not even a single fucking look. Honestly, it was getting on his nerves. They were supposed to be a couple — a fake one with an expiration date, but still a couple! Surely, the man could spare him at least a glance even with no cameras around, c’mon.
“So we set the first date on Sunday, you two will meet in Sumida Aquarium. “You’re free to do whatever there but remember it’s supposed to be a romantic date. So include at least some hand-holding.” Kokonoi was doing something on the tablet that he pulled out of nowhere at one point. “We will call the paparazzi to wait around the penguin cafe at 3 pm.”
“We’re not doing PDA.” Mikey looked up at how suddenly Haruchiyo jumped into the conversation after staying silent for so long.
“You’re gonna have to. It’s in the contract,” deadpanned Kokonoi.
“I wasn’t there where you crafted it.”
“And you had almost a week to suggest any changes after I presented it to you.” The man never stopped tapping on the screen of his tablet. “I already booked tickets under your name, you can download them from your mail.”
Haruchiyo just gritted his teeth but didn’t continue his argument.
“Next dates are now planned in your virtual calendars. Update them when you come up with date ideas. We give you that freedom because maybe there are some things you would like to do despite all of it being a PR move. The days for that are however set and if you don’t update the calendars two days in advance either me or Mr. Kisaki will come up with something.”
“We need that time to organise someone to photograph you two. There is a high possibility that the fans will help with the case but we can’t leave it in their hands alone.” Tetta was leaning on a sofa, with his arm on the backrest. He didn’t need a calendar, he would remember it all anyway. “We need that publicity.”
“Of course you do.” Here it was, that voice filled with venom that never leaked into his songs. “Twenty-two and an underground idol is pitiful.”
“I’m twenty-three actually,” Mikey corrected him without thinking much.
“Then that’s just pathetic.”