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The camera lights flicker off of the lenses of his glasses, bouncing off the pristine satin of his finely cut suit and relentlessly continuing to illuminate the already well-lit red carpet. It was somewhat of a celebratory party of all cast and crew members of the record-breaker hit TV show Shinomiya had starred in roughly a year and half ago.
It was somewhat of a semi-informal and yet also a formal gathering, they were serving tea and champagne as drinks and a wide array of pastries and finger food to snack on. Actors, actresses, and the directors and writers were asked to dress neatly, which is a milder term for “your finest”, and so Shinomiya’s got a tailored suit on with his hair, already running longer than he’s accustomed to from neglect, was twisted into a low bun. The late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky and the clouds cast a purplish glow against the buildings of the city.
Shinomiya angles his head differently, settles his mouth into his infamous lopsided smirk, and tries to fight off the grimace threatening to spill onto his features at the onslaught of camera flashes that erupt from the action. Not a moment later, a reporter and a cameraman in tow that he can briefly recognize sidles up at his right side, microphone and camera in hand respectively and a painfully wide smile plastered on her face.
It’s going to be a few more lengthy minutes before he leaves the red carpet.
“Fine late afternoon to you, Shinomiya-san!” She greets, gleeful and loud, but Shinomiya can’t bring himself to let go of his kind façade. It’s business after all. “Ah,” He starts, voice teasing and aloof, “Same to you, lovely miss.”
The reporter’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance, she’s probably one of those people who think everyone in the production and acting industry are a bunch of arrogant assholes – which, in some shape or form, might be true – and Shinomiya allows himself to smirk in victory. “I love your outfit by the way, is it by Lauren or Armani this time?” She asks, eyes raking through Shinomiya’s form.
Shinomiya tries not to grimace.
“McQueen, actually,” Shinomiya corrects, because god forbid if he was ever thrown into another Armani suit again, he could just imagine the endless teasing he would get from a certain redhead. “Can never go wrong with McQueen, you know?” He asks, and he casually throws his head back in a chuckle, hoping to sound fond. The reporter giggles along, high pitched and eyes crinkled up at the sides.
The flashing camera lights continue to flash along and he’s used to it, but still.
The reporter continues on, seemingly unfazed by Shinomiya’s divided attention – again, the pinknette has to wonder how much she hates actors and or actresses – and opens up another topic of conversation. “How did filming for the second season go? Any highlights?”
“We actually finished very recently,” Shinomiya starts, hands buried inside the front pockets of his dress pants and head slightly downturned towards the microphone aimed near him. “If I’m not mistaken we wrapped up just three weeks ago.” He finishes, and the reporter nods her head in acknowledgement, lips already set apart and half-way ready to spout the next question listed on her agenda.
“I’ve seen posts on social media about a specific arc in Shokugeki No Souma’s second season, and it seems like there were quite a number of scenes you had with Yukihira-san, am I right?” She asks, and Shinomiya doesn’t fail to notice the slight tone of mischief and curiosity in her voice. Ah, he thinks, how usual.
“You’re entirely accurate, miss.” Shinomiya confirms, and the reporter continues. “The fans were very happy about this development, and there was also a certain… picture…” She trails off, voice suggesting and challenging, and there’s an unmistakable glint to her eye that makes Shinomiya tick. Be professional, he berates himself, no use getting worked up over it.
He knows exactly what she was talking about, of course he knows, it’s been the only constant thing that he had to deal with in his numerous encounters with the media in roughly three months since the picture went viral. It was during the filming of the Stagiaire arc, a slow moment wherein both he and Yukihira were not needed in the scene, as unusual as it may be. Shinomiya had promptly kidnapped the redhead from the make-up retouching area and had brought him to one of the multiple balconies of the high-end restaurant they had rented out for filming.
He pulls Yukihira by the hand, and the redhead – ever the free spirit he is – lets himself be tugged along, fingers tightening around Shinomiya’s own and soft, pampered hands, warm against the pinknette’s. Shinomiya had shushed him multiple times, trying but failing miserably to muffle the insistent giggles of delight that Yukihira seemed adamant on making.
”Shut up,” Shinomiya had hissed, and Yukihira just snorted and giggled even more, infectious and genuine and there’s a bubble in Shinomiya’s chest and a twist in his stomach at the mere sound of it. “But this feels so exciting! It’s like I’m fifteen again and sneaking out from my parents to watch the theatre club practice Romeo and Juliet.” Yukihira replied, and Shinomiya listens to the redhead babble on until they reach a heavy door located at the far back of the restaurant.
Shinomiya pulls the door open and steps out into a small smoking area, probably for employee use only, which overlooks a narrow alley filled to the brim with busy Tokyo residents. Once alone, he tugs Yukihira close to him – closer – eager and wanting, and the redhead complies with a soft smile that makes Shinomiya ache.
They stay like that for various minutes, and Shinomiya lets Yukihira settle his weight on him. The redhead is a comforting pressure against his chest, and he’s got one hand twisted in soft red hair and another running soothing circles against Yukihira’s back. He allows himself a brief moment of living in the present – they weren’t in the middle of filming, they weren’t tired and sore all over, they were just… there.
He likes it, this relationship they have between themselves, and Shinomiya has never felt about any of his co-stars – or anyone else really, for that matter – that way. But being famous actors with an upcoming steady stream of income from a popular show they’ve worked so hard for, it won’t be so easy to let the world, the public, the media to know. It’s risky, and as agitated as Shinomiya is he knows he’s got to keep this one private – something special, something meant only for them.
That’s why he lets himself just a single moment, a split of a second, a single touch. He plants a soft kiss against Yukihira’s temple, and the silence was broken with a sharp and familiar click of a camera.
So, that picture?
Yeah.
“Ah,” Shinomiya says, dragging out the syllable. He’s always said the same thing since the very first time someone had asked him about it, and Yukihira did too – they were given very specific and detailed orders from their own respective managers. “Practice.” Is the only thing he says.
The reporter doesn’t seem to believe him, but Shinomiya can’t really be bothered by it, as long as no one confirms or denies anything the media has no ammunition against him – against them. “For the rumored film based from Chuugo-sensei’s novel? The one heavily inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey?” She asks, and Shinomiya smiles at that.
“It’s true! We’ve been briefing for it for the last two weeks. Can’t tell you anything more than that though.” He adds, and the reporter looks just about ready to squeeze him out for all he’s worth with yet another question when she’s abruptly cut off by a new surge of flashing lights and shouting photographers.
Shinomiya hears him before he sees him, over the loud calls of the various photographers lined up near the red carpet of “Yukihira-san, look here!” and “Yukihira-san, smile!”, Shinomiya hears his laughter – light, at ease, and real.
Shinomiya nods at the reporter once as courtesy, and promptly takes rapid strides to enter the event proper, echoes of a certain redhead’s laughter fading behind him, heart thudding in his chest.
*
There were reserved seats, and Shinomiya’s seated on a round table opposite of the Aldini twins and between Yukihira and Tsukasa Eishi along with various others, wearing expensive formal wear and drinking alcoholic lemonade.
They chatter and reminisce about filming, and if Shinomiya holds Yukihira’s hand under the table the entire time, there were no prying eyes – or cameras – to see.