Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 2013

He peeks through the curtain that shields her from the area filled with people walking fast one way or another, moving cameras and hangers full of clothes and talking to phones and themselves, but most importantly not paying attention to him.

"Get out." Is her response.

She doesn't even bother wasting a single second to look at his face, she just shoves him away with her hand.

"That's not nice." He mutters, more to himself than to her (she's not going to care), and turns his back to the curtain, arms crossed over his puffed up chest.

He notices two girls whispering to each other while staring at him - they must be with the fashion team, according to the peculiar way they're wearing their blouses - and he sends a wink their way; they giggle, one covers her mouth with a hand while the other hides her face behind the folder of papers she's holding and they quickly storm off.

"When you're done flirting with the interns —" he hears her voice coming from behind him, "will you move?"

He smiles (or, actually, he grins) and decides to move a bit to the right to purposively block her from the way out of the changing room, if you can call the small area behind the washed out grey curtain that.

"You forgot the magic word." He chants as he turns his head, sneaking a look to see her still behind him, glaring before she flashes him with one of her best fake smiles and tells him:

"Taichi, sweet, talented, handsome Taichi, will you please move?"

That pleases him - she knew it would - and with a grand gesture (exaggerated arm swing included) he takes a step back.

Mimi's smile disappears as soon as she walks out, and she makes sure to side-eye him as she surpasses him.

"So annoying." She mutters, and she's glad that all the crew of the variety show they're about to shoot is too busy to even notice their exchange - she has an image to keep intact, if you must know, and Taichi Yagami, rapper and leader of well known boyband rEVOLUNTIONary road, the number one male idols of Japan, five years in the industry, countless awards' nominees and winners, Taichi Yagami, is probably the worst person to have around if she wants to show the world just how charming and pleasing she truly is.

"Did you purposively choose a shirt one size too small to show off?" She asks him as she runs her eyes from the top of his head to his feet. "I doubt the fashion team gave you that."

As Taichi opens his mouth to reply, she walks past him to head to the buffet table, visibly uninterested in his answer. He follows her nonetheless, diving through the obstacles made of people between him and her, already a couple of feet away.

"Actually," he starts as he dives left to avoid a VJ running to the other end of the area, "I had no say." He finishes, landing next to her. He's quick to scan what the staff has provided them for lunch: he spots the tower of rice rolls, grabs one and offers it to Mimi. She looks at it, then at him, then opens her mouth.

He feeds her nonchalantly, just as she chews the food and nods to herself.

"Try the other one." She instructs him with her mouth still half full, pointing at the plate next to the one he took the first rice roll from, and he knows she means he lets her try the ones on the other plate, and not to get one for himself.

And the thing is, that's exactly what he does. He gets the other kind of roll and gives it to her, who's waiting with her mouth open again for him to feed her. If he snickers, it's because of the funny face she makes every time she eats something she thoroughly enjoys. Alas, she lets out what he imagines would be the sound she makes as - well, you know.

"So good." She asserts, grabbing his forearm and shaking it. Taichi is about to reply with one of his favorite innuendos, but one of the producers denies him the opportunity as she approaches the pair, one headphone over one ear and the other pushed back, talking fast to the microphone attached.

"Everyone, attention." The producer talks quietly, but everyone is silent as she holds up her arm to gather eyes on her. Mimi gulps and looks at Taichi startled, and he places his hands on her shoulders to turn her around so that she faces the producer.

"We'll start shooting shortly. The guests will enter one by one as they're called… You'll be waiting over there — I'm sure all of you read the script, you know who you'll be paired up with -"

There's a general nodding as the producer goes over some points she wants to clarify, but Taichi is not listening to her, and a glance shot towards Mimi lets him know she isn't either, based on how her eyes, though they seem to be following the producer's gestures, are lost in a world of her own.

To be fair, that's a pretty common occurrence between them idols (or celebrities in general) even more so when they're idols who've been in the industry for a long time and familiar with variety shows and TV appearances, to not pay attention to the usual run down of the script before shooting starts. He associates it to the security measures explanations they give you when you're on a plane about to take off: when you travel by air too often, you've listened to the stewards explain those rules so many times you don't really need to hear every single word again. Besides, it's his seventh appearance on the show, and he's pretty sure she's also been a guest at least five or six times already.

They love Mimi - he can see it in the way the camera workers who are veterans on the show greet her and how the head fashion assistant is always laughing when it's time to get Mimi ready, and the same also applies to the other familiar faces of the crew.

He can see why that's the way it is: besides the fact that she's the front woman of the most popular four members girlband in Japan nowadays, butter-FLY, he's known her for long enough to notice things. Like how whenever she's around, she smiles so much you start to wonder if she doesn't have some disease that doesn't allow her lips to purse, or how she remembers the name of each staff member, and she's so thoughtful to them that she brings treats whenever she knows they're gonna have a long shooting day. And she likes to joke. And flirt, a lot.

Like right now, for example, Taichi spots one of the cast members catching her sight and smiling brightly at her, waving his hand in a jokingly way; Taichi turns his head a little to look at Mimi's response, who's now smiling and waving back trying not to get caught by the producer.

Taichi coughs, the producer turns their way, and Mimi has to freeze and go back to looking interested in the head's explanation. A glance at them must remind the producer of something, because next she dives on recommendations directed to Mimi in particular.

"Mimi, our viewers really loved you the last time you came on the show, and they also quite liked the love line, so maybe we can hint at that again today?" The producer turns back, looking at the cast member who had been waving at Mimi only moments earlier, "we've paired you up together for this episode, so as long as you're comfortable, don't hold back." Mimi smiles, confirming with a "no prob", while the guy shows a thumbs up. "Alright then, we're set. Good luck everybody!"

Mimi waits for the crew who had gathered around the producer during the talk to scatter around before turning to Taichi and pinching him on his forearm, causing him to jump back.

"So." She mutters after the first pinch, "annoying." She finishes after a second one, gritting her teeth and glaring at him. He flashes her a mischievous smile, towering over her and placing both hands on her shoulder to stop her from moving an inch and damaging his perfectly tanned skin with bruises.

"Mimi, stop. They'll think you like me if you keep on picking on me." He says with the most compliant tone she's ever heard. She brings a hand to her chest, making an offended face.

"Me? You?"

Taichi closes his eyes, nodding quietly.

"I know, I know, it's hard to resist my appeal. There's a reason if they call me Japan's most wanted man." Taichi reasons aloud, but Mimi is quick to retort.

"That's Yamato."

When he opens his eyes, he finds her wearing the sneakiest grin on her face, and he knows she knows she's just scored a point.

"That was low." He sounds defeated, and also a little disappointed. She looks at him and what she sees is the frown a child would have if you'd told him he wasn't going to get ice cream for dessert.

Which makes her soften her tone.

"Don't worry, the fangirls will still watch this once it airs." She reassures him. "Just make sure to accidentally rip your shirt with a pole or something."

As Mimi pats his chest - and makes a mental note to ask Hikari once she's back home just how much her brother works out - Taichi is quick to swing his arm and place it around her shoulders, squeezing her small body against his side.

"Wouldn't you like that?" He leans down to whisper in her ear.

And you'd think after four years she knows him he wouldn't be surprising in any way, yet she ends up frozen for an instant when she turns his way to deny everything and finds that he's closer to her face then how she thought he would be (though, to be fair, she really acted on impulse and never thought about how near he could be).

Taichi raises his brows and doesn't hesitate to lower his gaze on her lips, and if she was to choose to answer him she'd have to lie, but lying really doesn't suit her, so the only option for her is to keep staring at him while inching back with her face so that he's not so close and her brain can start working properly as it should.

"Everyone ready?"

The shout of the PD assistant shakes Mimi more than Taichi, but at least it makes her come to her senses and get a hold of herself, showing him a dangerous smile.

"You wish."

When she pushes him back, before turning she shoots one last glance at him. He's shaking his head and giggling to himself, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes telling her he's genuine — and, despite everything, making her smile fondly as well.

It's the thing with Taichi, she's just glad when he's around.

Not that she'll ever admit it, oh no. It's just the way it is. She doesn't know if it's because after four years he still hasn't changed who he is - he's still the fun, spontaneous guy who threw drumsticks to her head the first time they met - or if it's because there's something about him that makes her trust him - and that's not something common in the industry - but she's just glad when it turns out they have the same schedule.

"So annoying." She sputters, shooting her eyes up and waving her hand as to shush him, as if her movements were to make him believe she really means what she says. He keeps grinning though, because that's the thing: he knows it too.

He knows she's glad when he's around. 

Chapter Text

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First comes wonder

.

It's the day of your debut stage and here, at the broadcast station, it all looks so different from what you're used to. The four clean white walls of the label's rehearsal room, with the tall mirrors and the posters of all the successful label mates that came before you gave you strength, felt like home. The big led screens at the end of the stage where you're standing right now look frightening, and you wonder if, after all, you're really ready to take this jump.

You almost collide with him as you're getting backstage to grab a glass of water. He's debuted nine months before you and while you know you're older than him (two months - you remember that one night after practice when Hikari had told all of you about how well her brother's debut had gone, and Mimi and Miyako were faster than lightning to go check their profiles on the boys' label website, leading to the four of you finding out you were older than three out of the four members of rEVOLUTIONary road), he's still technically a senior in the industry. So when you realize it's him holding out his arms to catch you as it looks like you're stumbling, you come to an alt and respectfully bend your back down in a small bow.

"Sora, right?" He asks you when you look up and your eyes finally meet.

It leaves you a little bewildered, but then it's easy to connect the fact he knows your name to how Hikari must have talked with her brother to some extent. You nod.

"The drummer." He adds before the silence can turn into uneasiness.

"Right."

You shift your weight on the other leg, looking down and then up again as it downs on you that in less than ten minutes your big moment will come. The one you've trained so hard for, the one you almost didn't believe it was ever going to come around.

"Cup of coffee?" He brings your attention back to him and you show your best apologetic smile, almost embarrassed to be having to deny his offer.

"Coffee's a little too strong as of right now." You try to explain, and to your surprise his previously still face lights up in what you read as a hint of a smile.

"You won't be able to see a thing." He explains. "Once the music starts, you guys will be in your own world."

And for some reason, you believe him. A strand of hair falling over his forehead, free from his styled do, catches your attention, and the last thought you have before turning around to walk back to the drums is how can a Japanese boy have blue eyes.

.

Then comes curiosity

.

"They're trending nationally."

Miyako's concerned voice comes from the door behind you, and you turn back in a whirl of ginger hair, the right side up in clips and the left one already down in curls swishing in the air.

"What?!" Mimi's high-pitched cry anticipates yours, as you see your best friend jump up from the turning chair in front of the mirrors where you're fixing your hair and make-up, and run towards Miyako, still frozen in front of the door.

Mimi grabs the phone from Miyako's hands, surely to check with her own eyes the news brought by the younger member.

"They're trending nationally."

You chuckle at Mimi's cryptic tone, finally standing up to go meet them a few feet away. You place your hands on each of your members' shoulders, but your eyes never leave the half-lit screen of Miyako's phone still in Mimi's hand.

"They released a shirtless photoshoot for Men's Health, of course they're trending nationally." You say, and your own tone is nothing like your friends': it's light, and almost amused.

"Did you know about this already?" Miyako asks you, finally straightening herself up. You turn your head to the side, unsure of why she's asking you.

"How would I?"

"Dunno. Maybe our manager told you."

"Why would she tell me?"

"Because you're the oldest." Mimi cuts in, apparently now up from her trance state as well. "So you haven't seen the photoshoot either."

You shake your head, catching the tiniest spark in Mimi's honey irises.

"Have you?"

Mimi keeps her stare on you for a moment before replying.

"No?"

There are a couple of seconds of pure silence in which you three exchange looks, then Miyako turns to close the door and all of you run to the farthest and darkest corner of the room (it actually only is the corner next to the wheeled hanger full of your stage clothes). You watch Miyako fidget with her own phone that Mimi had almost dropped to the floor and that you had already foreseen sliding deep under the makeup counter, and then all comes to a stop.

"Oh boy."

Yours and Mimi's foreheads touch as you try to understand Miyako's half whispered remark.

"What?" You say, still lost before Mimi grabs the phone again and turns it your way. Then you understand. "Oh."

You blame it on how of course, of course they are singers and they have to constantly use their abs when performing (and if you four have to be on a fitness schedule, you're pretty sure they have to as well). It's just that you didn't think a bunch of barely twenty-one-year-olds or so would be so…

"Ripped."

Miyako finishes off out loud the sentence that was forming in your mind as she scrolls down the screen from the picture of the leader of the group, Taichi, none other than Hikari's brother ("Where is Hikari anyway?" "Do you really want her here right now?"), wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and sitting on a couch, to the following photo of Yamato, in a suit that didn't include a shirt.

"Oh." You repeat, but for some reason this time Mimi's head turns to you, scrutinizing you from up close with one of her smirks.

"Momma likes." She simply breathes before turning back to the lit screen, and you nudge her on the side and chant back a "You do, too."

"Did you know he was in med school?" Miyako comments as they get to Jyou's set after five minutes previously spent commenting Koushiro's one.

"For real?"

"Mhmm. Hikari said so."

You all stop, and in the quietness you consider how he would've made one of those dreamy doctors every housewife dreams of before Mimi stops your stream of consciousness to hurry Miyako.

"Go back to the first one." And quickly Miyako does as your friend said, scrolling all the way back to reach the top one of the photos.

You don't notice it, but when you see the glimpse of a suited figure, before the screen gets occupied by a guy in sweats, you chew your bottom lip. "I can see why he's the leader." You hear Miyako comment, and Mimi reply with a "Uh-huh.", yet you're somehow not really looking anymore, mind drifting until -

"What are you guys doing?"

Hikari's sweet voice startle all of you, as there's a common jump on you three's part. You catch Miyako scrolling down again as Hikari comes close and, as nothing happened, you all maintain calm as she throws a glance at the phone.

"Didn't think Koushiro had that in him."

.

Then comes respect

.

Technically, your first year end show appearance was last year, but it fell in the same month of promotions for your first studio album, so it hadn't been that different from the usual broadcasts. This time, you can sit and chat with other popular singers, and get interviewed by MC's eager to know more about you.

And there you sit, on a dark puffy stroll, surrounded by a handful of other idols in the industry. The MC is asking random questions to each of you in no particular order, and you almost curse yourself for not paying attention to his previous questions the moment he turns to you.

"- and on the left we have Sora from butter-FLY."

You offer a big smile in return of your neighbor passing you the microphone, and a quick scan to the opposite row of strolls tells you they must have just introduced Yamato before you, considering he's the one holding the microphone on that side.

The way he's sitting, it looks like nothing could bring him down. His fit shoulders are relaxed and his arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes sharp, observant of his surroundings. You get why so many people find him unreachable, almost frightening, but all you see is someone who's attentive and clever, a young man who deeply cares about music.

"Sora, Anna here was telling us who were her idols when she was little, what about you? Is there anyone who you look up to now that you and butter-FLY have made it big in the industry?"

You take a couple of seconds to formulate your answer, as your manager always reminded you to do. That's also the reason why today it's you sitting there and being interviewed, you passed what you four had labelled as the "who's the most responsible one" test.

"Well, of course I try to learn the most from my senpais at Universal. They all have so much to offer and they're all so available when you need advice or just as friends that I'm really grateful to be able to work in such an environment." You stop, you turn your microphone around in your hands and then you look up again to the MC. "And then I'm also thankful to Yamato-senpai. Even if we're from different labels, back when we debuted he was very open and supportive."

It's funny, because for a moment when your eyes meet his, his betray a sense of surprise, with his eyebrows slightly raised and his lips parting before he manages to reply. You repress a giggle, biting the insides of your cheeks and turning your gaze on the MC.

"Despite the well known competition between butter-FLY and rEVOLUTIONary road? That's unexpected."

And that's when Yamato cuts in, voice soothing and charming grin included. You think you hear your neighbor letting out an amazed sigh, and you're not sure yourself how you manage to stay so still when you hear his reply.

"There wouldn't be any competition if they weren't so good, don't you think? Sora's an incredibly talented drummer. There's a reason if they're the first popular girlband in a while."

.

Then comes friendship

.

December 1st, 2011 marks the date of the release of your third studio album.

You've had it good: three albums in three years isn't something most people get, and you don't forget to express your gratitude every time someone shows support for you and your band.

Sometimes it feels like you're still walking on the clouds, not sure if this - everything - is really happening or if it's just a big, long dream. But other times it downs on you that this is all the outcome of years of training, of working hard, of focusing to get the best out of the four of you can offer. And it's in those times that you can appreciate the most the life you're living, even if at times it can get hard and you had to give up and say goodbye to many aspects of your old life that you long for now.

But you have your friends in this journey you're taking, and you wouldn't want to have anyone else by your side but them.

Mimi is sprawled on the couch of the small apartment you four share, letting out her oooh's and aaah's every time she turns the page of the photo book that comes with your new album, as if it's the first time she's seeing those pictures. Miyako is in front of her laptop, the screen reflected on the round lenses of her specs tells you she's constantly scrolling up and down what you guess is your mentions on Twitter. Hikari is on the balcony talking to her parents, switching from her mother to her father every three minutes, laughing and telling them not to cry.

There's a sudden buzz coming from the coffee table, and it takes a little for you to realize that it's your phone getting new messages, and not anyone else's. You wonder who it can be, considering both your parents already talked to you that morning, as soon as they got back home from the local mall where they got their two copies of your new album.

You pick up your phone, the screen black again as it's been already two minutes since you got new texts, and with furrowed brows you click on the middle button. A chuckle escapes you when you take a glimpse at the reduced preview of the photo he sent you.

Done with Christmas shopping.

You laugh, eyes fixed on the photo of him, out under the snow wearing a white sweater and no coat, holding out two shopping bags full of copies of your album. You shake your head, and you have to check again if he really sent the message or if this is just part of that big, long dream.

Turns out it isn't, because when Mimi's head peeks at your phone from behind you, the "stop fraternizing with the enemy" you hear is clear and distinct.

.

Then comes trust

.

To be fair, you're not really sure if you're supposed to be there.

At the same time, you don't remember anyone at the label telling you you can't visit friends at their place, so there's that.

Sitting on rEVOLUTIONary road's table in their kitchen, the heat of the peppermint tea in front of you creating curves in the air, you're focused on the sound coming out of Yamato's expensive headphones. He's propped on the chair on your right, the corner of the wooden table dividing you, and he's somehow nervously holding the blue iPod with both hands, turning it constantly, unable to stay still.

Come to think of it, you've never seen Yamato so tense. In the years you've known him, you've always seen him mask his anxiety, showing nothing but a calm and collected version of himself, so still you've wondered at times if he was even able to, you know, feel.

"Did you write this?" You ask, calmly removing the headphones and placing them in order on the table. He nods, glance fixed on your every single move as he tries to read you before you let out your verdict. "And composed it." He adds when he doesn't hear an answer from your part.

You nod, grabbing the cup of tea now not as hot as it was when he offered it to you (he has already gulped his own tea in the three minutes you spent listening to his song). There's a moment, as you drink, when you consider lying to him, merely to see at what extent he's able to show just how much he cares about the song, but you eventually come to the conclusion that that would be plain mean, and he already looks miserable enough for you to play with him. So you slowly put down the cup, and then you turn to his tense yet hopeful face.

"It's great, Yamato. I love it."

It must have taken him by surprise, because the next thing he does, as he exclaims a "Really?", is to grab the free hand on your lap with both of his, the iPod still in the fist, and look at you expectant. You smile fondly, nodding again and squeezing his fingers.

"Really."

He lets out a sigh you guess he had been holding for a while, and while he withdraws his right hand to finally put down the iPod on the table, his left one keeps holding yours, your fingers now entwined together as if it's the most natural thing to do, as if this is not the first time you're consciously touching with no fear or embarrassment, and without even noticing.

And you don't notice either that you stay as you are when Taichi comes through the back door and greets you with a "Hey, Sor." as he goes to the cabinet to look for food.

.

And then comes love

.

Your love is not an easy one, not when you have to keep it a secret from the rest of the world. It's something only yours, and you're careful to keep it that way.

It's made of glances exchanged backstage during broadcasts, of silently rooting for one another during variety shows. You tell him your doubts in between recording sessions, and he opens his heart when he composes. Some days he's still the boy that first walked you through this big, scary world, but other days he has to be the well-known idol the nation loves and dreams of, and you have to be the drummer of a girlband, and the only way to touch him is to shake his hand after a well done performance on a show you're both attending.

You take his hand when he gets nervous, and he puts his arm around your shoulders when the weight of the world feels too heavy.

"I was thinking." He says, not bothering to look up from the acoustic guitar he's mindlessly playing.

"Yes, that's what people usually do when they're quiet for a while." You reply with a grin, earning an annoyed look from him. You playfully show him your tongue.

"Would it be that bad if people knew about it?"

He asks, and by the casual tone he uses you know that, in the contrary of what he wants you to believe, he must have thought about coming to you about this for a while. So you rest your pen on the table, and you study him before replying.

"You know it's more about your career than it is about us." You simply say. Yamato huffs, and shakes his head.

"It's about you. That's why I'm asking." He puts down his guitar on the couch to be able to come to you. He's edgy, and you notice that by the way his hand combs through his unstyled blonde locks as he approaches you.

He sits down opposite you on the other side of the table where you're scribbling down some lyrics, and his eyebrows furrow as he reads a couple of lines.

"It's going to affect you more than me, Sora."

You know it's true. You're the girl, and fans are most likely to forgive the man for getting a girlfriend than the girl for stealing their favorite idol. You've only had this conversation two times, the first when you decided to be in a serious relationship and the second when you had to inform both of your labels about it. That's when you realized the best choice was to keep it secret, to avoid backlashes in your careers and to be able to keep sailing smoothly.

But even with that, even if you know he's the one being right, in your mind keeping it under wraps is a way to protect him, because as much as he tells you it's gonna be bad on your end, you also know that he's not going to be left unaffected by everything. And the last thing you want is to see him hurt.

"It bothers me that this way I can't offer you much." He looks at you.

"You offer me everything." You comfort him.

He shakes his head, reaching for your hands from the other side of the table. You stretch your arms, tangling your fingers with his warm ones. It feels right, like that.

"I don't want you to be afraid to smile when we see each other in public." He tries again.

You take a deep breath, then it's a whisper.

"Then show them how much you make me."