Work Text:
This can’t be happening.
He squints, trying to get a better look in the dim lights- the bustling sounds of models coming and going, of aides and makeup artists and seamstress and one-day-hires, slowly consumed by the foreboding buzz rumbling inside his ears.
He reaches forward to what should have been his outfit for today’s runway – hopeful (maybe delusional). But reality is harsh, and the beautiful piece, specially prepared and fitted for him, the symbol of all his efforts recognized, is now but a torn mess-
Something so unfair shouldn’t even be possible. But it is. And it is happening right now, before his eyes, regardless of his opinion.
The world spins and his vision tunnels, breathing suddenly sharp and shallow – his muscles tremble despite the suffocating heat of backstage, and he feels dizzy on the impossibly high-heels he wore for today. For this outfit. For this opportunity.
Just who the fuck could do something so… mean?
He can feel his throat knot-up, his ears drop back down, his tail flicking furiously…
“20!... 20… where is number twenty?! Sena? Sena-san!” the boisterous voice slowly claws its way into Izumi’s white-noise-filled brain, making him turn around in time “What are you wasting your time on? We need you ready in 10!”
“A… I apologize, but… my outfit…” He straightens up and hoping to appear professional, attempts to modulate his voice and stop the flicking of his tail.
The woman, the backstage manager, raises an eyebrow, eyes passing over his small figure and towards the hanger behind him – her expression shifts from annoyance to shock, to horror, to anger.
“What the ACTUAL FUCK?! What the hell DID YOU DO?”
“Hah?! I didn’t do a thing! It was like that already!” the sudden attack has he snapping right back, a little show of fangs adding to the now-resumed tail flicking
“Who else is going to even come close to your outfit? Huh?” she insists, crowding over him. Her wolf ears are back too, her bared fangs much bigger than Izumi’s.
“Like hell I’d know?! I was in make-up until literally a second ago!” he growls back, refusing to back down.
He feels his voice resounding into silence, and turns around to find plenty of eyes fixed right on him – how vulnerable he suddenly feels, barely covered in his underwear. The little strife loud enough to catch everyone’s attention, there’s plenty of ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ and looks of concern being exchanged-
A wave of applause reaches them from the outside, adding pressure to the silence –
…what are they supposed to do without their grand finale?
Izumi was supposed to be it. He’d worked his ass for it, compensating with expression and flawless choreography what he lacked in height- and to prove it, he’d earned the honor of being the star of the night. An outfit fitted just for him –
…the wolf manager is already calling the designer about the issue, but there’s just not enough time. There are barely a few models ahead of him, all awkwardly getting ready in the tense silence, the next designer already fixing his own models on the other side of the wooden partition. The designer won’t get here on time, there’s just no way-
…why did this have to happen today? To him?
Was it an accident? Intentional? That's likely, he’d done nothing but earn grudges since he accepted this offer, too busy perfecting his craft, too focused on earning the top spot to be friendly. He’d snapped at a clumsy aide just the day before when she prickled him with a needle while fixing one of the other outfits…
“We’ll have to make do with another outfit” the manager finally says, covering the phone with a hand.
Izumi feels the ground give beneath him.
Today’s outfit –the mess of cut fabric it had become - had been specially fitted for him. Too short to actually clear the runway standard, he’d been picked by a whim of the designer for his pretty face and androgynous look, the rules bent slightly to make it work –
That meant, however, that he couldn’t wear anything else.
The last spot, the grand finale, would have to go to someone else.
He shivers again – anger and frustration and barely contained tears threatening to tear his body apart; the rough blisters hidden inside hard heels suddenly stinging all over again.
Was it all for nothing?? For nothing!!!
He hears what he thinks is a snicker and turns around to look for the culprit, finding the mocking grin of a burly model; one he’d argued with before. He looks straight into his eyes as he steps forward, raising a hand to offer himself for the job-
It was him!
He can feel a hiss in the back of his throat, his carefully brushed hair suddenly lifting up in anger.
“I can do the walk-” the guy starts and Izumi sees red. He could jump him, right this second, tear his face apart so he wouldn't be able to take the last spot either. It would be fair-
“Lemme fix it” a lower voice with a kansai drawl suddenly rings through the silence, cutting the opportunistic guy's words in half.
Everyone turns towards the voice – it’s a scrawny guy dressed exactly like you’d expect a fashion student to dress like, hunched over slightly and with terribly overgrown black hair. The red lanyard hanging from his neck reveals him as an intern. Surprise is painted-over with confusion and disbelief.
“…we can't just leave the grand finale to an intern” the manager grumbles under her breath-
The guy flinches slightly at the words, hands reaching up to fidget at his own overgrown fringe.
“I reckon leavin’ it to someone that ain’t even practiced the choreography wouId be worse” despite the half-mumbled tone, the guy’s voice rings clear. Izumi's ear flicks slightly on his direction “If I ain’t done by the last turn, ya can let the other guy do the walk, whatcha think?”
There’s another silence.
There’s really no time.
The manager looks at her phone – at the intern, at Izumi, at the other model. She finally clicks her tongue.
“Fine, whatever. You get yelled at by the boss” she growls, clicking her jaws in a threatening manner “Get Madoka ready to go! Now, now, now!”
The tension suddenly broken everyone returns to what they were doing. Running and sewing and fixing and… The intern runs up to Izumi.
His terribly oversized pants look so loose and so long Izumi worries for a moment he might trip on the hem, but it doesn’t happen and the next second the guy is by his side, giving him a small bow and-.
“Here, don’t get too cold” he mumbles, taking off his own oversized jacket and placing it on Izumi’s almost bare body. He feels himself jumping up slightly, but the extra warmth is terribly welcome over shivering muscles.
He thinks of saying something -anything- but the intern is already busy evaluating the piece.
He takes the pieces and tries to find an order to them under Izumi’s slightly nervous gaze.
It seems pointless.
The manager, and everyone else in the floor, probably agrees. Still, he's left with no choice but to put his trust in this stranger or lose his chance to earn his worth-
It’s been a couple of seconds, when the guy starts sewing. He’s impressively fast and precise in his stitches – the thread he’s using vanishing from sight under Izumi’s very eyes…
“Can ya put this on?” the guy suddenly asks and Izumi is jolted back into awareness.
Four models left to go- his stomach churns anxiously and he feels dizzy still, but there’s nothing he can do. So, he shimmies off the warm jacket and into the piece the guy is holding up for him.
Despite plenty of holes making it look more like a slice of Swiss cheese than proper haute couture, at least the fabric settles on his shape and drapes over the start of his tail like a proper outfit should- surprising work for only a few minutes, even if still unusable for the runway.
“Stay still” the intern mumbles, bringing a needle close to sew directly on top of Izumi’s body.
There’s a small tension, a little fear about getting pricked – but it doesn’t happen. The guy works fast and clear, matching up patterns and shapes like a massive puzzle by memory alone without Izumi ever quite feeling the needle.
Two more models to go – there’s no time and there’s still a big piece of fabric missing. Fuck-ass Madoka must have thrown it away somewhere-
“…it's over…”
Riiiip
His despondent words are interrupted by an abrupt sound, big eyes shifting away from the floor to look what's happening. The guy has just grabbed another one of the outfits in display – an extra that didn’t get used – and is tearing a piece of it.
“W-what the hell are you-?” his words get swallowed cold by a purposeful gaze under a black fringe. One eye golden, one eye blue - warm and shining, and not at all defeated.
“Getting’ more fabric” he announces, his gaze immediately returning to the outfit. He works hard, biting on the thread as he cuts through it on eye alone (no time for measuring or lines or anything really)-
“Y-you’re going to get yelled at… they might fire you!” he lets out weakly but the intern doesn’t respond to his worries, the small twitch of his floppy black ears the only thing that tells Izumi he heard him “Answer!”
“It’s fine. Today’s my last day anyway”
Izumi tenses, his ears moving back slightly, eyes fixed on the guy.
“Why go so far though? This has nothing to do with you.”
“Mnn, I just thought… it’d be a shame if all yer hard work went to waste” the guy mumbles, his needle fast and precise.
“Huh?”
“Emm... Ya know I’m an intern, right? I’m always leavin’ last, cleanin’ after everyone else” he mumbles, the needle in his mouth making the words hard to understand “So I often see ya practicin’ after hours and lookin’ after the blisters in yer feet...”
Izumi flusters, his ears suddenly moving forward as to hear the praise a bit better, the end of his tail flicking slightly-
“Would be such a waste if ya didn’t get to show all that effort ‘s all” he nods as if he is being obvious, now kneeling to finish the lower hems of the outfit “and… maybe I was kinda lookin’ forward to seein’ ya perform too…”
Along with the quiet whisper, Izumi hears a dull, repetitive flutter against the flooring- he tilts his body slightly to get a better look behind the intern, glancing at his fluffy and unkempt black tail, thumping happily against the floor.
Oh, that's his heart skipping a beat for no good reason-
“One left! Kagehira are you done?!” the manager suddenly yells from all over the entrance
“Yah! We can go!” He yells back, and Izumi has to blink twice and give himself a good look over.
Much to his surprise he looks properly dressed.
The outfit is a bit different from the actual piece he was supposed to wear, but it resembles the concept surprisingly well while remaining cohesive to the rest of the outfits. And it surely doesn’t look as perilously half-sewn as it actually is-
“Get on line, I’ll work on the details” the intern -Kagehira was it?- gestures for him to walk over to the curtain and Izumi obeys, both too confused and too nervous to do anything but. Not even able to look around to gauge the reactions of the rest of the staff-
Kagehira trails behind him, still sewing while they walk, and continuing to sew as they wait. His focus is surprising, his hands skillful and gentle – Izumi yet to feel a single prick on his skin, despite plenty of the fabric on top being skin-tight.
“Sorry in advance-”
The needle stops and he suddenly feels warm hands grabbing at his tail – he jumps up slightly, ears shifted back and eyes darting down to nail the culprit.
What he sees is worse, a testament to his lack of self awareness; to the depth of his self inflicted despair. A flurry of anxiety claws at his throat as he fixates on the, until now ignored, frizzled fur of his tail.
Before he can spiral back into self pity, Kagehira is combing his tail as best he can in what little time there is-
“Here” he finally says, picking up at a single baby blue ribbon left from some other outfit – he tugs it with one side of his scissors, forcing it to curl at the edges, and proceeds to gently tie it around Izumi’s tail like the straps of ballerina flats- the end of the tied ribbon curly and beautiful.
“NEXT!” the floor manager calls from outside and suddenly all sounds are gone.
Izumi takes one single, deep breath.
All his anxieties, worries and ruminating thoughts, he puts them in a vault along with the throbbing pain of his feet. He closes it shut, and buries it 6 feet down. The only thing he needs to care about right now is the stage – the runway, the lights, the cameras – the performance.
He worked so hard for this!
His heels click confidently as he steps on the runway-
…..
Sitting on a bench, Izumi stares at the water bottle in his hands.
The sun is down in the horizon, a tired light barely crawling its way through the massive window panels of the now-empty event center.
The guests, press and judges are all gone. The lights and sound system have been packed and taken back by the people in charge. Most models have left for an after-party and the designers are also mostly gone by now too.
Some staff members linger, picking up chairs and cleaning up the floors. Thankless work.
The runway was a success.
Despite how the few minutes prior to it had felt, Izumi had shone on the runway. Under the bright flashes of professional cameras and the deafening sound of booming music and thundering applause, he’d felt like a fish in water.
He’d returned back stage with a running heart, sweating all over and trembling a bit – the excitement pumping through his veins had been so intense, so overwhelming and satisfying, he’d thrown himself to Kagehira’s arms the second he saw him.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” he repeated over and over, rubbing their cheeks together and purring just a bit.
The guy seemed a bit flustered, but corresponded to the hug – his curly tail wagging so fast it sounded like a small helicopter.
And then the high was over and Izumi realized what he was doing. He had to push the guy off and run out to save some face-.
The designer was also backstage by then, talking out with the manager and a security guard. He offered Izumi a single, stern ‘well done’ and a pat to the back, no mention about the torn up outfit. At least not to him.
According to some of the staff, Kagehira had received quite the yelling for acting of his own accord and was even told to continue his internship somewhere else.
It also took some time, but the cameras were thoroughly checked, revealing Madoka as the culprit behind the torn outfit (just as Izumi had expected). He would surely get some punishment of his own-
Izumi alone was left unscathed – he even received a couple of offers from other designers after seeing his performance on stage.
It didn’t feel real. It also didn’t feel entirely fair. He made an attempt to speak for Kagehira to the boss, but it fell flat, leaving him to feel not only guilty but also useless, incapable of fully enjoying his success-
So he skipped on the model afterparty and bought a water at the vending machine, hoping the act of sitting down in silence would help settle some of his thoughts.
And now he's here, still no conclusions to his errant thoughts. He takes a swing of the bottle, the clear water refreshing to his slightly harsh throat. His tail shifts slightly against the seat…
“…will you be okay…?” a small voice reaches him from backstage, ears flicking slightly towards the sound.
“Ahaha, yeah. I think so. It’s back to sendin’ resumes, ‘s all.” Izumi’s ears flick again at the recognizable voice, eyes lifting up to find the owner. A fashion student in oversized clothes, no longer wearing the red lanyard. In his hands a box that feels to small to contain everything he owned-
“…I’ll reach out to some designers I know too…”
“Thank ya kindly~ I’ll be takin’ my leave then” Kagehira smiles and bows as to say goodbye, spinning on his heel as he finds his way to the door. His curly tail is hanging low, his ears flat atop of his head.
“Kagehira!” he’s already running when he catches himself calling out for the akita dog.
Kagehira turns around, ears perking up slightly and tail recovering enough strength to do a small wag.
“Ah, Sena-san. I thought ya’d left for the after-party” he smiles, thin lips rather pretty curled like that, flashing sizeable fangs.
“I… wasn’t feeling it.”
“Huh? Why not? Ya were the star of today! Just like I imagined ya’d be” his tail has recovered it's full speed by now “It’s a bit of a shame it had to be with my half-assed handywork-”
Izumi flushes, his ears tilting forward and his eyelids lowering slightly-
“No, I'm glad…” he’s fidgeting with the water bottle in his hands, sincerity not coming too easily to him “I wouldn’t have been able to stand on the stage at all if it wasn’t for you. That's why I... I wanted to thank you… And apologize for making you lose your internship…”
“Awah? That ain’t Sena-san’s fault at all!” Kagehira tilts his head to the side, only one ear standing up, the other one still floppy. He looks a bit childish like that, but that’s cute too “And, it may not be nice to say, but even in that situation, I got'to see someone as drop-dead gorgeous as Sena-san in somethin’ I sewed so I’m satisfied”
Izumi’s heart makes a somersault, his face already too warm for comfort-
“S-still, you went and stuck your neck for me, despite hardly knowing me at all…” he lowers his gaze, his tail shifting just slightly in nervous anticipation “…at least let me pay you back. I’ll invite you a drink or something-”
“Eh?”
“Eh?” he looks up at the sudden sound of surprise, echoing it himself. Did he say something wrong?
Kagehira is blushing a bit. His tail looks like a blur from how fast it's wagging.
“…did I die and went to heaven?" Kagehira bumbles out
"Huh?" Now is Izumi's turn to let out an undignified sound of surprise
"Did I do enough deeds in a past to get the most beautiful person I've ever seen askin' me out?”
Izumi's face burns, steam escaping his slightly folded ears. He feels his tail lifting in interest but forces it down - the contradiction making it flick right and left.
“S-shut up?? Who said it was a date?? D-don’t just interpret things however you want!”
“Oh...” The tail wagging slows down into almost stopping, the floppy Akita ears folding sadly “R-right... my bad. I'm a bit dumb so I kinda misinterpreted the hug from before..."
Izumi jolts up at the mention of his embarrassment, tail flicking even faster and ears folding into airplane wings.
"Even though yer completely outta my league haha… I'm real sorry” the dog continues to apologize, the dejected thread of his voice tugging and Izumi's heartstrings
Okay, he doesn’t have to take it that far…
Ears flattening a bit, and tail still flicking, now in mild annoyance, Izumi opens his mouth again.
“Stop with the self-deprecating language, okay? You aren't even that bad looking, if you just lifted your hair up instead of hiding half of it under it you'd probably look better-” he reaches forward with a hand, combing the long black fringe up to reveal the intern’s face.
Striking gold and blue are there to meet him – along with nice eyebrows, a well-shaped nose and a surprisingly well-balanced face, slowly creeping with a blush.
Oh fuck... He guessed the guy would be decent looking from the small glimpses be got at his face but...
…This hot? Really?
Izumi’s face soon comes up with a blush of his own. Noticing what he's done a beat too late, he pulls back his hand as if he just touched a hot stove, and drops his eyes to the water bottle he is back to fidget with.
For a moment neither of them move nor say a thing, too busy being embarrassed to even look at each other.
Until the sound of a grumbling stomach finally cuts the silence. Kagehira’s blushing growing tenfold as shame adds to the existing embarrassment.
Izumi smiles a bit, suddenly feeling like the whole situation is just too ridiculous to bother.
“…dinner?” he offers, tilting his head slightly and Kagehira nods enthusiastically, his tail back to a cheerful wag as he follows him out of the event center.