Chapter Text
It starts with a phone call.
Sora is in the practice room when it happens: a cheery, inoffensive chime rings from the locker area, and Tsumugi quickly swipes his towel across the back of his neck before hurrying to pick up his phone. The voice on the other end isn’t audible from where Sora is finishing his stretches, so all he could tell was that Tsumugi was spending an unusually long time in the back, longer than a typical business call would have taken.
When Tsumugi returned to his spot next to him in front of the mirror, he apologized mildly for leaving with a small, close-lipped smile. After knowing his Senpai for several years at that point, Sora liked to believe he could read him fairly well. He remembers studying his face in that moment, a habit he had grown from Tsumugi consistently hiding his true feelings behind a placid expression. All seemed normal; Senpai’s color had been tinged with an awkward shade of green, but that could be chalked up to a lot of things. For Tsumugi, that was often worry or stress–nothing too out of the ordinary for his positions as acting deputy director and full-time member of Switch.
So why was Senpai’s color so off now? When had it gotten this bad?
When Tsumugi had shown up to practice the next day, the green tinge had turned into a full hue, something that usually only happened before a particularly difficult live. When this happened, Sora would squeeze his Senpai’s hand backstage and give him a bright, encouraging smile to make it go away.
When he did the same thing this time, though, the green only receded minutely at the edges. Tsumugi’s eyes softened, but upon seeing Sora’s crestfallen expression, he pressed his lips together and a flash of putrid yellow entered the scene.
Guilt.
“What’s wrong, Sora-kun?” Tsumugi asked.
Sora thought he was the one who should’ve been asking that instead. “It’s nothing, Senpai,” he said instead. He beamed up at his senior, who chuckled and squeezed his hand back. “Let’s walk there together!”
During practice, Tsumugi is distracted. He trails off in the middle of their choreography before snapping back to attention. During breaks, he stares absently at the wall. He trips over himself more than usual. It’s enough to raise Sora’s concern a little higher. Apparently, Natsume feels the same way because each time, he chews Tsumugi out.
“Did youR hEad finally disappear into tHAt tangled moP? Pay atteNtion, Mojacko!”
It’s a lame insult, and they both know it. He waits for Tsumugi to coyly remind him that he dedicated said mop to Natsume himself years ago, but instead, Tsumugi only nods quickly and clambers back to his feet, apologizing quietly. It’s odd, and Natsume shoots Sora a questioning look. Sora sees a blotch of dark grey entering Tsumugi’s green and shakes his head.
_______________
It goes on for another three days. Each day, Tsumugi’s color gets darker. He starts looking pale and tired.
By the third, Natsume becomes frustrated.
“I can see you are neGLecting your hEaLth once again. Really, Senpai, I thoUGht you would’ve learned bEtter by now.”
Tsumugi hummed pleasantly. “Ah~ Natsume-kun cares about me; I wasn’t aware you had such a motherly streak–” He cut himself off abruptly and pressed his lips together before resuming eating his lunch.
Natsume huffed. “There it is agAin! NEver before have I sEen you act with such hEsitancy. It is uNSettling.”
Tsumugi laughed weakly. “I’m fine, Natsume-kun, really.”
Natsume frowned. “You keep teLLing us thAt, but your DiSheveled appEArance and aBysmal coordination certainly say otherWise.”
Tsumugi seemed to wilt. “Ah, sorry, my mind’s been a bit out of sorts this week. I didn’t mean for it to affect my performance.”
Natsume pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stupid MojacKo! We’ve had this conversation a miLLion times. That’s not–” he gave a frustrated sigh.
Sora bit into his hamburg steak, finishing the sentence internally: That’s not what I was worried about.
He was shocked when a bloom of dark grey appeared around Tsumugi. His face had gone carefully blank. “Not what?”
Natsume seemed taken aback. Fumbling for words with a slight redness creeping over the tips of his ears, he settled for: “It wouldn’t do to have Switch faLLing behind. And for thAt to happen, we need everyone in priMe condition, including yOu, Senpai.”
Sora felt himself relax. Natsume’s color had turned a warm rose, almost like an embrace. It was the color Natsume had when he swung his mic stand at Tsumugi while making sure not to actually hurt him.
But the grey around Tsumugi flared before melting into the blue around it. Tsumugi managed a small smile, looking ill. “I could never deny a request from you, could I, Natsume-chan?” Natsume bristled like a cat at the old nickname. “I apologize, I’ll do better in the future from now on.”
It wasn’t the answer either of them wanted. “Of course you’d dish out those pAthetic apOlogies where they aren’t needed, Senpai,” Natsume said exasperatedly. “I’m at a loSs, really.
Tsumugi had a strange look on his face. “Are you upset with me, Natsume-kun?”
Natsume looked ready to tear his hair out. Sora could see the years of dealing with Tsumugi’s denseness flash across his eyes like a full-length movie.
Sensing tinges of real irritation creeping into the scene, Sora reached out for Tsumugi’s hand before Natsume could speak and gave it a comforting pat.
“Shishou is just worried about you, Senpai; Sora is too! Senpai always pushes himself so hard for us~”
The putrid yellow is back, swirling into view. Tsumugi’s eyes soften, but they still look sad. “Fufu~I’m flattered. But I’m alright, so don’t worry about me, ne, Sora-kun?
Sora doesn’t push. “HiHi~Sora trusts Senpai.”
They eat the rest of their lunches in silence.
__________
Despite his earlier words, Sora is still worried. He hadn’t been lying exactly, but his Senpai didn’t have a rich history of trustworthiness when it came to his own wellbeing.
So Sora decides to play a one-sided game of hide and seek in Cafe Cinnamon. Sora isn’t spying on his Senpai, he tells himself from behind one of the leafy potted plants, he is practicing for Asobi club’s annual “Ghost in the Graveyard” match. He is multitasking.
Across the room, Tsumugi is sitting at a table near the window, reading a book, probably the one on local cryptids that he had been excited about earlier that week. His color, while still mottled with dark grey, has turned pleasant with a soft glow. Sora watches him curiously for a while and after deciding all seems normal, moves to leave.
Right before he does though, he feels a flash of warmth on his back. Sora turns around.
“Here’s your dark roast espresso, Aoba-san! Enjoy~!”
“Ah, thank you, Shiina–it looks wonderful. May I ask what’s on the top?”
“Candied orange peels! I’ve been experimenting with some new beverage add-ons so tell me how you like it, ‘kay~? Don’t worry, it’s on the house.”
Sora watched with fascination. Chef-oniisan’s colors were so bright. Sora had to squint to even make out Tsumugi’s colors mingling next to them.
Something stirred in his gut. Tsumugi’s colors never got that bright, even when he was happy.
It was something Sora had realized before, when Switch had taken a day off to go to the local fair. Tsumugi had shown up with three tickets out of the blue on a Monday morning and proposed a light field trip to give them all a break from the constant stream of work that had come with Switch’s rising popularity. Natsume had immediately shot the idea down, but Sora couldn’t quite hide how much he wanted to go, and his Shishou had caved. Sora remembered taking a fluffy bite of Hello Kitty cotton candy when he and Natsume realized Tsumugi was nowhere to be found.
The fair was a sea of colors that made Sora dizzy if he concentrated too hard. Even from far away, Sora could pick out the familiar, spicy fruit punch vibrance of a frazzled Natsume, but the equally familiar subdued blue of his Senpai was much harder to detect. It took them nearly a full half-hour to finally find him, running a hotdog stand that wasn’t his own, on behalf of a stranger that none of them knew.
Sora had never fully known why his Senpai’s colors had always been a little darker than everyone else’s. His seniors adored him; that of course, he knew, but he also knew there were a lot of things they kept between themselves–things they didn’t share because Sora was still young. Sora tried not to take these things personally because he could sense no ill will, but it did mean that in moments like these, Sora was left guessing.
Maybe his declaration of trust had been a lie after all.