Work Text:
Mafumafu’s hands always needed to be active when he was nervous. Twirling his microphone, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, or tapping his fingers on his thighs - anything he could do to rid the excess energy from his body, take his attention away from his irregular heartbeat or the sweat on the back of his neck. No matter how many live concerts he held, videos uploaded, streams held, the anxiety would never fail to bubble over and spill. Of course, the upcoming recorded interview wouldn't be free from the unease.
The air in the private waiting room of the broadcaster's recording studio felt heavy, like the sweat and thoughts of everyone in this room before the white haired man had clung onto the atoms around him. The mirror on the opposite wall displayed a portrait of a tall man, sitting stiffly on a couch made of fabric that rustled against his perfectly ironed suit with every movement he took. A face that looked so familiar yet unrecognisable was attached to the man's body.
Staring into those red eyes, both the man and Mafumafu blinked at the same time. Their hands had been intertwining and pulling apart in synchronisation as well. Exhaling all the held air from his lungs, Mafumafu pulled himself from staring a hole through his body and brought his mind back to reality. Tilting his head up, he looked directly into the source of all light in the room. Eyes burning from looking directly into the bright light, Mafumafu listened to the tune of the bulb's soft hum.
He felt and looked clammy, his makeup almost as light as the wall behind him. But the makeup artist was long departed, and his face was made up specifically for the television cameras. A throb of the blunt ache that had been persistent since he had left his apartment travelled across his brain once again, making Mafumafu shut his eyes.
The darkness was a relief. It felt cool, and Mafumafu often found himself losing himself in the abyss of the lack of light reaching his eyes. Being able to take his mind and body somewhere else, even temporarily, was a blessing. Letting his senses be flooded and taken over, Mafumafu was transported to the comfort and peace of the previous night.
Close enough for Mafumafu to smell the conditioner from his partner's dark blue hair, the younger man was held in the embrace of Soraru’s toned arms. Only a thin sheet was needed; the comfortable shared heat between Mafumafu’s back and Soraru’s chest from being pressed against each other was enough. The darkness absorbed almost all the noises, leaving only the pleasant silence constantly broken by the breaths of the sleeping older man behind him. A warm, ticklish feeling softened by his white hair hit the back of Mafumafu’s neck with each rise and fall of Soraru’s chest, felt against the younger man's back. In this simple bliss, Mafumafu sank into a stable sleep.
The creak of a door opening snapped Mafumafu out of his beloved dream. They’ll be ready for him in 10 minutes - the information conveyed by yet another worker who hadn’t even entered the room, but was closing the door before the full sentence had been spoken.
Brushing non-existent dust off his suit pants, Mafumafu felt something thin move slightly around his wrist. Pulling his sleeve down, a bangle was revealed, catching the obnoxious light and gleaming. A wry smile wove its way onto his lips as he removed the bangle from his wrist, and stared at the engraving on the underside.
“After the Rain ❀”
Each character hammered into the bangle by Soraru’s hands, always a whisper against Mafumafu’s skin whenever he wore it. The white haired man's heart skipped a beat as he reminisced about his birthday when he was gifted one of his most treasured items.
The skipped beat brought the sensation of what was on his chest to Mafumafu’s attention. Bangle still in one hand, he hooked his finger on the chains around his neck and took the doubled-up necklaces he had worn out as well.
The shorter of the two had a dark green pendant, an intense contrast to his pale skin. It was the first piece of jewellery Soraru had given Mafumafu, being gifted before they understood the feelings between them. The longer one was not even a necklace, it was a chain with a ring strung through it. The ring that was too large for Mafumafu’s fingers, that was usually displayed proudly in his living room. The brand and cost of it meant nothing when compared to it’s existence as a ring from his lover, Soraru. The idea of a store attendant knowing the relationship between his partner and another man before their fans was something that occasionally crossed Mafumafu’s mind, yet it was somewhat funny to him.
With the pendant and ring in one hand, and the bangle held by the other, Mafumafu felt security travel through his fingertips and palms from the metal warmed by his body temperature.
The creak of the door whipping through the room, Mafumafu returned the jewellery to their places. Their slight weight gave the man the comfort he had been seeking. They were ready for the interview.
No matter where he went, or what happened, the love between him and Soraru would be carried with him, both in his heart, mind, and soul, but also physically, against his heartbeat on his chest and wrist.
And for the first time that day, Mafumafu felt that it would be fine.
He just couldn't wait to get home.