Chapter Text
Sugawara Koushi often lives his life feeling like he isn’t an actual person at all, but some idea of a person that other people made up; a character profile written out on a crisp sheet of lined paper with a ballpoint pen, a perfect Koushi-shaped mould that he warps himself to fit into. Perfect Koushi, who smiles and laughs and has perfect hair all the time, perfect Koushi with perfect skin and perfect teeth and a perfect life. He goes where he needs to go, talks to the people he needs to talk to, plays the parts he needs to play. He wakes up at 5 every morning, does his scheduled work out, showers, completes his skin routine, completes his hair routine, eats a perfectly balanced breakfast that has been planned out between a nutritionist and two personal trainers, gets his schedule from his body guards and is out of the door before 8.
He does what he needs to do.
He goes where he needs to go.
But there is nothing that he wants to do. There is nowhere he wants to go. He doesn’t know who he is beyond the mask that he dons every single morning. A Koushi-faced costume that pinches and squeezes him all over, rubs blisters into his skin and doesn’t fit quite right no matter how much he tries to force it to. Sometimes it all gets a little overwhelming and he feels lost. But crying alone on his bedroom floor is surely not something that perfect, angelic, cheerful Koushi would do, and so it doesn’t happen.
At least, not that anyone else knows of.
Truth be told, he spends more nights like that than he’d like to admit.
On one of his rare days off, the feelings are so strong that Koushi can’t breathe. He feels a gnarled hand wrap itself around his throat and threaten to drag him under, the taste of suffocation thick on his tongue. Out, out, he needs to get out. He grabs a hat and a pair of large sunglasses without another thought, throwing on his cliché disguise. He scrawls a hasty and only slightly legible note (perfect Koushi also has perfect handwriting, every kanji slightly rounded for a cute effect. This Koushi does not care.), waits for his body guards to start their routine sweep of the building’s perimeters before sneaking out the door. He takes the descending stairs two at a time, all 32 floors of it. Down, down, down, and by the time he pushes on the outer doors, he is a sweaty, panting mess. But the flood of warm, spring air that blows into his face, combs through his hair as he opens the door to the outside is enough to bring tears to his eyes.
He takes a bus to a random Starbucks and orders a peach green tea lemonade. Stutters and yells “Kou- Kou- Kou…….. Koutarou!” When the barista asks for his name, drawing a series of strange looks. He feels so un-Koushi like, and yet so much more at home than he has in ages. Koushi goes grocery shopping. He doesn’t buy anything, but walks up and down the aisles, soaking in the normality of it all. No paparazzi. No cameras. No microphones stuck in his face. No screaming fans (though he appreciates and adores them, most days). He almost forgets. Almost.
Except at that moment his sunglasses slip down his nose and he hears a girl to his left gasp, grabbing her friend’s arm and shaking it urgently.
“I think that’s Sugawara Koushi over there. In the hat and sunglasses!”
“Don’t be silly, why would Sugawara Koushi be in a random J-mart on this side of town?”
“I’m serious! It’s definitely him. Let’s go talk to him!”
Both girls are leering at him now, and he feels sweat beading on the back of his neck. He isn’t ready for his tiny piece of normalcy to end after he had only just barely had a taste of it. Calmly, Koushi walks out of the store. As soon as he’s out, he starts to run, zigzagging into small residential roads and turning random corners in hopes that the girls aren’t hot on his trail. He chases freedom with every step, chases normalcy and excitement and being more than ink on paper. Koushi’s feet carry him further and further from prying eyes and scandalous whispers, carry him far, far away from the world where he can never escape the people around him and yet has never felt more alone in his entire life.
That is, until he slams face first into some poor sucker innocently rounding the corner.
His beverage goes everywhere. It soaks Koushi, splashes into his face and over his clothes, soaks the man he ran into even worse. There is a brief moment’s silence between the two of them.
“Jesus.” The man finally whispers. “What is this stuff?”
“…peach green tea lemonade.” Koushi responds numbly, brain still processing what had just happened.
“I have it in my eyes. I have lemonade in my eyes.” The man is pawing at his eyes then, voice wavering just the tiniest bit and it’s enough for Koushi to snap out of his shock.
“Holy shit! I’m so sorry, I’m so so so sorry,” he says frantically, digging a handkerchief out of his pocket and trying to dab at the man’s face. The man accepts his handkerchief and continues to wipe at his eyes. “Are you okay?!”
“I- I think so?” The man rasps softly. “It burns like hell. I didn’t know peach green tea lemonade could be this deadly.”
Koushi looks around in desperation, hoping to spy some small store that might have a washroom for the man to use, but only residential houses and buildings surrounded them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know this area but there doesn’t seem to be anywhere for you to wash the lemonade out.” Koushi wrings his hands anxiously, thoughts barreling forward at a thousand miles per second. “I don’t know what to do.”
The man hesitates for a second as if thinking, Koushi’s handkerchief still pressed to his eyes. “Okay, listen. I know this is going to sound really sketchy but- my apartment is literally around the corner and I can’t open my eyes. I promise I’m not a serial killer, please help me home?”
Instantly, Koushi clamps his hand onto the man’s forearm. “Tell me where to go.” He says, lifting his chin up in determination.
---
Not even 10 minutes later, Koushi stands in front of a door emblazoned with the numbers 407 alongside the stranger he blinded with lemonade. The stranger fumbles through his pockets before drawing out a keychain and handing it to Koushi.
“It’s the square-ish silver one.” He says weakly, scrunching his eyes together.
Koushi nods (not that the man can see it, oops) and unlocks the door, leading the man inside. The inside of his apartment is furnished simply, neutral taupe walls and white curtains. Some magazines with what looks like volleyball on the covers are scattered on top of a coffee table, placed in front of a soft-looking beige couch and a wide-screen TV.
“I’m really sorry.” The man says suddenly, making Koushi jump. “The washroom is down the hallway to the left. Can you just lead me to the doorway, please?”
Koushi almost laughs at how polite the man is being, as if it’s not entirely Koushi’s damn fault that the he’s been left half-blinded and in terrible stinging pain. They both toe off their shoes before Koushi takes the man’s forearm again, leading him past the entrance. What he doesn’t notice is that there’s a small ledge from where the entryway turns into the living room- with a shout the man trips over the ledge and stumbles. Koushi shrieks in surprise, still gripping onto the man’s arm and both of them are sent toppling forward onto the floor.
There is another moment of silence as the two of them lay on the floor. A moment of silence that is thick with disbelief and thoughts of as if that just happened after this crappy situation we’re already in holy shit wow this is unbelievable.
And that’s when the man starts laughing. A deep, rumbling laughter, loud and exasperated and Koushi can’t help but burst into laughter too. Because what a day. What a fucking day. Koushi has no idea how a day that started out with overwhelming misery has somehow ended up with him sprawled out across a stranger’s apartment floor, alongside a man he had inadvertently blinded with overpriced lemonade. He is bruised and soaked and sticky with peach flavoured syrup and laughing himself into hysterics, and in that moment, Koushi can’t remember ever feeling more human. Without a word, the man reaches his hand out, and Koushi clambers to his feet before pulling the man to his, finally leading him to the washroom.
---
“So, that was quite an adventure.” The man says, freshly changed and wiping his face on a towel. It’s only then that Koushi realizes that he doesn’t have his sunglasses anymore, realizes that they must have fallen off in the collision and that he is a famous actor-model standing disguiseless without his body guards or anyone knowing where he is, in a stranger’s apartment. But it’s too late to regret any of this, because the man is opening his eyes for the first time since Koushi ran into him and maybe Koushi is really looking at him for the first time too, not having had the time or the spare thought during the preceding events.
And wow.
Because Koushi doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, but the guy he half-blinded is really attractive. In a way that is different from himself, that is- because the man standing in front of him is thick where Koushi is thin, sturdy where Koushi is delicate and chiseled where Koushi is all fine lines. Despite the whites of his eyes being coloured a painful looking pink-red, the honey brown of his eyes flood Koushi with a distinct feeling of warmth.
“Well, thanks. For helping me out.” The man continues. He reaches out a hand. “My name is Sawamura Daichi.” Dazed, Koushi reaches out his own hand and watches in slight amazement as it’s wrapped in a firm grip. Seconds pass before he registers the confused expression on Sawamura Daichi’s face.
Oh, Koushi realizes, he’s waiting for me to introduce myself.
Oh, Koushi realizes, he doesn’t know who I am.
Wait, Koushi realizes. He doesn’t know who I am?
“Sugawara.” Koushi squeaks, cursing the way his voice comes out. “Koushi. I’m very, very sorry for ruining your clothes and blinding you with my lemonade, Sawamura-san.”
Sawamura Daichi laughs, pumping Koushi’s hand up and down before reaching over with his free hand and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “After everything we’ve been through just now, you can call me Daichi.”
“D-Daichi.” Koushi echoes, feeling airy. “Uhm. Everyone calls me Koushi, so…”
Daichi hums thoughtfully for a few seconds. “Then I won’t.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t want to call you what everyone else calls you.” Daichi grins. “How about ‘Suga’, then? Short and simple.”
“You’re being awfully amicable towards someone who blinded you 20 minutes ago.” Suga snarks, reaching up to rub at the nape of his neck sheepishly. “Again, I’m sorry. I still feel really bad.”
“It’s all forgotten.” Daichi says lightly, turning and walking into the kitchenette area of his apartment. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Ah, no, I should actually get going.” Suga smiles. His rebellious adventure has gone on for long enough, he thinks. “Thank you for the offer, though.”
“Oh, actually, do you want some clothes to change into? That looks really uncomfortable.”
Suga shifts in his sticky shirt, considering. ”Actually, a shirt would be really nice. Thank you, Daichi.”
Daichi walks across the hall and opens the door to a bedroom, disappearing inside for a few moments before stepping back out, t-shirt in hand. “Here. Sorry, it’s probably going to be a bit too big.”
“No, that’s okay.” Suga says, thumbing the soft material. “Can I borrow your washroom to change?”
Daichi’s smile is kind. “You know where it is.”
---
They exchange numbers so that Suga has a way to return the shirt afterwards. Daichi walks Suga down to the lobby of his apartment building, and Suga gets all the way down the street before giving in and peeking over his shoulder just as he turns the corner. When he does, Daichi is still there, hands in pockets with a fond smile on his face.
Suga calls his body guards and they’re there within 15 minutes. They fuss over him and scold him for sneaking out, tell him to be reasonable because what if something happened and they aren’t there to protect him? Koushi nods and hums and apologizes all the while, still dizzy thinking about the way Suga sounded on Daichi's lips.
To: Sawamura Daichi
From: Sugawara Koushi
(23:21) How are your eyes feeling?
From: Sawamura Daichi
To: Sugawara Koushi
(23:23) fine, lol. thanks for checking up.
To: Sawamura Daichi
From: Sugawara Koushi
(23:24) That's good.
(23:24) I still feel really bad...I blinded you and ruined your clothes and then let you fall when I was supposed to be helping you.
From: Sawamura Daichi
To: Sugawara Koushi
(23:25) well, your lemonade that probably cost $20 went to waste because of me so we can call it even?
To: Sawamura Daichi
From: Sugawara Koushi
(23:27) It did NOT cost $20.
(23:27) Let me treat you to some takeout when I return your shirt?
From: Sawamura Daichi
To: Sugawara Koushi
(23:29) you won't catch me declining free food.
To: Sawamura Daichi
From: Sugawara Koushi
(00:00) Okay.
(00:00) Let me know a good time.
(00:00) Sorry. Again.
(00:00) For everything.
From: Sawamura Daichi
To: Sugawara Koushi
(00:01) goodnight, suga.
To: Sawamura Daichi
From: Sugawara Koushi
(00:01) Goodnight Daichi.