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“Tanaka-kun, you seem to have taken a liking to my classroom.”
Tanaka had found himself in the room of the film teacher for detention, once again. It wasn’t even his fault this time--Noya happened to bring a pair of roller skates to school, and Tanaka couldn’t resist using them in the halls. The way he saw it, Noya was the one that should’ve been in detention.
Takeda-sensei sighed. “Tanaka-kun, you’ve been in detention twelve times this semester. How can one person be so rowdy?”
“Takeda-sensei, it’s like those coming-of-age films where the troublemaker kid turns out to be the best person ever! Like… whatever it’s called…” Tanaka mumbled, scratching his stubbly head. “A building’s romance?”
The teacher let out a soft chuckle. “A bildungsroman? Technically, those are books, but I suppose films can fall into that classification as well.” Takeda looked at his computer screen as he continued to talk to Tanaka. “You know, you actually have to grow as a person to be the protagonist of one of those movies,” Takeda joked, ceasing his typing. “Have you done anything like that?”
Tanaka’s face contorted itself into a contemplative scowl. “O-Of course!” he stammered. “... Definitely!” he assured himself, his face coloring.
“Well, as long as you’re sure,” Takeda advised, letting out another gentle laugh. “But if it just so happens that you’re not… I have something you could do to help out.”
“Help out?” Tanaka responded, his head tilted to the side.
Takeda swiveled in his chair and turned back to face Tanaka. “I figure that it’s something that might help you build character. You’ll get volunteer hours on the side, and I might be able to lessen the length of your next detention.”
Tanaka sat up in his seat, the fact that Takeda assumed he would get in trouble again gone completely unnoticed. “What’s the gig?”
“I have a student--my best student, in fact--who needs actors in an upcoming film project.”
“And you want me to be one of those actors?”
Takeda smiled. “I’m glad you catch on so quickly, Tanaka-kun. You should’ve taken one of my classes.”
Tanaka shrugged in response. “I’ve only got so much genius to spare.”
“Of course. So are you willing to do it, Tanaka-kun?”
Tanaka grinned. “I’m in.”
Takeda teacher clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll have him stay after school tomorrow, and you two can discuss the details then.”
“Thanks for the opportunity, sensei!” Tanaka yelled, getting up from his chair and walking towards the door. He had just started to turn the knob when he heard Takeda clicking his tongue.
“Get back to your seat, Tanaka-kun. You’re still in detention.”
Tanaka groaned.
---
A week later, Tanaka found himself in the room of Takeda-sensei once again, though this time he wasn’t in trouble. The film student, Ennoshita, was already there, cheerily discussing some cult classic with Takeda.
“Ah, Tanaka-kun!” Takeda voiced upon seeing the boy walk in. “This is the student who you’ll be helping out.”
The student, a boy with dark chocolate hair and eyes that looked perpetually half open, extended a hand to Tanaka. “Ennoshita Chikara.”
Tanaka quickly wiped his dorito-dusted hands on his pants and shook Ennoshita’s hand. “Tanaka Ryuunosuke! Nice to meet ya!”
“Pleasure,” Ennoshita murmured, taking the tissue that Takeda discreetly offered to him and wiping his hands. He turned to Takeda and mouthed a soft “thank you.” Takeda smiled in return. “So Tanaka, have you ever done any acting before?”
“Nope! But I doubt it can be that hard, right? I mean, you just memorize some stuff and don’t ever look at the camera.” Tanaka put his hands on his hips as though he were extremely proud of his answer.
Ennoshita was less impressed. “Uh, sure…”
“Tanaka-kun, acting is much more than simply reading words from a script,” Takeda drawled. “You have to be emotionally invested in your character--you have to live your role. Otherwise your acting will be just that: acting.”
“Wait, so actors that play characters with broken bones actually break their bones?!”
Ennoshita slapped a hand to his face and let out a slight groan.
“Uh, not quite,” Takeda muttered, scratching his head. “Acting isn’t that easy. You have to work hard to give off the right impressions, the right feelings, the right mood.”
“Right! I knew that!” Tanaka assured the teacher. “I was just, uh, acting like I didn’t…?” His voice wavered.
“That’s a great example of what we’re talking about,” Takeda mused, entranced by his computer screen. “That change in inflection? Totally revealed that you weren’t acting at all.”
Ennoshita smirked at Tanaka for being found out. Tanaka stuck his tongue out in return. “I can make an actor out of him,” Ennoshita insisted, turning to Takeda. “Thank you for getting him for me, Takeda-sensei.”
Takeda bowed his head and smiled. Ennoshita turned back to Tanaka. “Could you meet me here again after school tomorrow? I’d have you meet the other actress at that time.”
“Of course I can! After all,” Tanaka started, sticking a thumb at himself, “I’m a highly trained and professional actor!” He quickly turned to Takeda for approval. “Was that any better, sensei?” he asked quietly.
“A little?” Takeda offered.
Tanaka groaned into his hands. “Aw, man! Even I know bad acting when I see it!” He left the room in a huff. “Just tell it to me straight next time! I’ll see you tomorrow, Ennoshita-san. And you better believe I’ll be the best damned actor ever!”
He slammed the door shut.
Ennoshita turned to Takeda, and they shared a mixed look of both amusement and bemusement. Ennoshita was the first to break the silence. “Well, he’s certainly a character.”
Takeda laughed and nodded.
---
“Tanaka, meet your co-worker, or rather co-volunteer, Shimizu Kiyoko.”
Shimizu Kiyoko was the epitome of adolescent beauty--dark, shoulder-length hair; intelligent, stormy eyes; a petite mole on the left side of her chin. She was luminous and prudent, always aware of her actions. And Tanaka was absolutely stricken.
Tanaka nearly threw out his back from his whole body bow. “It’s n-nice to meet you!” he yelled at the ground. “I’m Tanaka Ryuunosuke!”
She smiled at him from above his head. “Call me Kiyoko.”
Tanaka’s eyes twinkled. “Kiyoko,” he sighed, letting the name roll around on his tongue. That earned him a confused look from Kiyoko and a slight shuffle away. To the side, Ennoshita snickered behind his hand.
“Now that the introductions are over,” Ennoshita said, breaking the tension “let’s get to work on this film, yeah?” Kiyoko and Tanaka nodded.
Ennoshita led them to a circular table, where he deposited a pile of papers with a thwack.
Oh god. Those better not all be my lines.
“We’ll start with a synopsis of the film. A foreign boy--” Ennoshita pointed to Tanaka, “--has just immigrated into the country. He has nothing--no money, no friends, nowhere to live, eat, drink. Nothing. So he resorts to thievery. One day, he steals a necklace from a girl.” Ennoshita pointed to Kiyoko. “That’s you.”
“So he steals this necklace…” Kiyoko confirms. “I assume it must’ve been important to her?”
Ennoshita’s lips curled upward to reveal a row of smiling white. “You catch on quickly, Kiyoko-san.” He turns back to the pile of papers. “That necklace belonged to her dead mother. The boy later sees the girl traumatized in a cafe, and realizes he has to return the necklace. Eventually, after comforting her, getting to know her, even going on a date with her, he does.”
“But she’s upset that he held onto it for so long,” Tanaka interrupted.
“Exactly. There’s a bit of a falling out--that is, until the girl is once again on the tail end of a robbery. This time, however, the boy comes in, fights off the thief, and they reconnect.” Ennoshita slammed his open palms on the desk. “Now. I know this is cheesy, uninspiring even. However, it does convey a message--one of redemption. And that’s what I’m being graded on.”
“What will our names be?” Kiyoko inquired.
“I thought I’d let you help me decide. I’m open to suggestions.”
Tanaka immediately raised his hand, letting out a few impatient ‘ooh’s.
Ennoshita closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “Yes, Tanaka?”
“I want my name to be Goku!”
“No.”
Tanaka frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “Fine. Then I want to be Fumiya, but everyone just calls me Fu!”
“No.”
“Katsuki!”
“No.”
“Takumi!”
“No.”
“Will you listen to any of my suggestions?” he asked weakly.
“No.” Ennoshita looked thoughtfully at Kiyoko. “When I said I would have you help me decide, I was directing that you at Kiyoko-san. Not you, Tanaka.”
Tanaka scowled and punched the wall. “What?! How is that fair?” Kiyoko giggled behind her hand. Tanaka thought it was cute.
“She’s our senior, Tanaka. She deserves our respect, and I’m trying to show it to her. Please learn some manners,” Ennoshita deadpanned.
“How about Akiko for the girl and Haruka for the boy?” Kiyoko offered.
Ennoshita’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “That’s genius, Kiyoko-san!”
Kiyoko bowed her head. “Thank you.”
Tanaka, however remained confused about the supposed genius of her suggestion. He let his lower lip jut forward in a pout, and he placed his hands on his hips. “How are those any different from my suggestions?”
Ennoshita let out a great sigh. “Because, Tanaka, the names actually have meaning.”
“Sparkle and flower? I don’t catch your drift.”
Another sigh. Ennoshita took out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote out the kanji for Akiko and Haruka. “See?” he pointed, signalling to the ink. “If you write the names like this, you get Aki--autumn--and spring--Haru. Two seasons, vastly similar and extremely opposite.”
Tanaka let out a soft ‘oh’.
“Anyway… Let me give you guys your lines,” Ennoshita digressed, reorganizing the papers on the table into tidy infrastructures of script. He pushed one pile towards Kiyoko and the other towards Tanaka. “Ignore the bracketed areas; those are where you input the names that Kiyoko just supplied us with.”
Tanaka let his eyes roam over the sheer vastness of the script. “How long did you say this film was gonna be?” he gulped.
“I didn’t set a time restriction.” Ennoshita droned.
“Gods have mercy,” Tanaka muttered under his breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
Ennoshita cleared his throat and motioned for the two of them to pick up their scripts. “Just so I can get a feel of how you guys act, could you read from the beginning of page seven?”
Kiyoko smiled and nodded. Tanaka groaned.
“When you’re ready, Kiyoko.”
She recited the lines with great poise and all the composure of a swan. Tanaka’s words were, in contrast, not so swan-like. And lacking any form of inflection. Or emotion. Or audibility.
“Tanaka… Have you even seen a movie?” Ennoshita murmured, shaking his head. Tanaka opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Ennoshita continuing. “Look, you need to be taught. Properly. I want you at my place tonight.”
“You think you’re that much better, huh?!” Tanaka retorted, trying to regain what little pride he could.
Ennoshita sighed. “I’m not claiming to be a good actor. But there were good actors in the AFI’s top 100 films. And we’ll watch one of those tonight.” He turned to Kiyoko and smiled. “You did fine, Kiyoko. I’ll see you tomorrow to start filming.” He paused and leered at Tanaka. “That is, if someone learns how to act by then.”
“God, you’re such a complainer butt! I’ll watch your damn movie, okay? No need to be so moody,” Tanaka countered, rapidly scratching his scalp.
Ennoshita smirked, content with Tanaka’s displeasure. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
Tanaka looked confused.
“Did you just call me a deer?!”
---
Ennoshita’s house was not too different from what Tanaka had been expecting: a quaint exterior, a quaint interior, and a quaint family, all neatly inhabiting the humble abode.
Or, at least, the mostly humble abode.
The viewing room for the the evening’s film, that is to say, Ennoshita’s room, was far from being quaint. Matinee posters of old-fashioned films were plastered on the walls. Silken screens of duvetyne smothered any light that tried to pass through the windows. Film reels were stacked precariously in one corner of the room, and in the other, an ancient projector sat dust-free, as though the young man used it on a regular basis. Tanaka wouldn’t have been surprised.
As Ennoshita fiddled with a DVD and his laptop, Tanaka posed a question. “So what’s the AFI, anyway?”
“AFI stands for American Film Institute. They created a ranked list of the top 100 American films ever made,” Ennoshita replied, jamming the disc drive shut. “Don’t get me wrong; I’ll watch a Kurosawa film any day, but the AFI’s list is timeless.”
“And what are we watching tonight, then?”
“Casablanca.”
Tanaka frowned. Like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.
“It’s number three on the list. And trust me, it deserves the spot.” Ennoshita moved over on his bed to make room for Tanaka. He patted the spot next to him, saying, “Sorry, but we’ll have to cram to both see the movie on this screen.”
“I-It’s fine,” Tanaka stuttered in response. What’s the matter with a little closeness? Nothing. Nothing whatsoever.
Suddenly, a song began to play and a black and white Warner Bros. logo flickered its way onto Ennoshita’s laptop display. Soon after, however, the credits began to roll.
“What the hell?! Did I already sleep through the movie?!” Tanaka blurted, his eyes brimming with incredulity.
This apparently warranted laughter from Ennoshita. “You didn’t sleep through anything, goofball. These are opening credits. Filmmakers used them pretty often back in the day.”
Tanaka scrunched up his nose. “Why did that change?”
Ennoshita seemed surprised by Tanaka’s extremely rational question, but was otherwise fully happy to answer. “There’s no definitive reason as to why it happened, but there are theories. Some claim that it’s because of George Lucas and Star Wars, which set a trend for having ending credits. Others think it’s because films have so many helping hands nowadays that credits are too long for the beginning. I tend to agree with the latter.”
“The ladder?” Tanaka inquired, tilting his head slightly.
“Latter,” Ennoshita enunciated, “latter with a t. Two of them, actually. It means--”
“Shh, the movie’s starting, Ennoshita!” Tanaka hushed, hurling a pillow into Ennoshita’s face. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s rude to talk during movies?!”
Ennoshita scowled but managed to keep his cool as an unseen narrator began to create the war-torn setting of the film.
As the movie progressed, Tanaka would occasionally sneak glances at Ennoshita’s face. Of course, it was only to observe how he should be reacting to certain parts of the film. He did have a nice smile, though.
They seemed to be reaching a memorable part of the film as Tanaka noticed Ennoshita starting to get closer to the screen. On the monitor, a woman asked the piano player to play a song (A forgettable one, Tanaka thought).
Ennoshita closed his eyes and hummed along.
Oh crap, this part is important, Tanaka reasoned hurriedly. He cleared his throat, before attempting to speak. “So, uh…” He scratched his head and tried to think of something intelligent. “This part is important, huh?”
Idiot.
Ennoshita seemed to have the same thought as he looked at Tanaka with tired, yet cognizant eyes. “Great work, genius,” he snorted.
“Shut up!” Tanaka yelled back, looking down. “I’ve never seen this before.” He pointed to Ennoshita before continuing, “And you have!”
“If you haven’t realized that Rick and Ilsa are an item yet, I think we need to restart the movie.”
Tanaka crossed his arms and harrumphed, quieting down as the movie progressed. It took a while longer, but finally, they reached a yet again obviously climactic point.
‘Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.’
The characters on-screen connected with a vigor that only seemed to intensify as a result of the soundtrack behind them. The man’s arm moves down to hold Ilsa, and during their blissfully oblivious kiss, he knocks down a glass.
“Did you catch all that, Tanaka?”
Tanaka sat up at attention, picking at his ear. “Wait, what was I supposed to catch?”
Ennoshita sighed and paused the film. “The kiss, you dolt. Obviously, you’ll have to kiss Kiyoko-san in my film. So I was at least hoping you’d pay attention to that!”
“Oh. Well, I mean,” Tanaka started, tugging at one of his hands nervously, “the kiss was romantic?”
“Romantic?” Ennoshita scoffed. “You’ll have to a do a little better than that.”
“Oh yeah?! Let’s see you do better!” Tanaka barked, standing up on the bed.
Ennoshita quickly pulled him back to a sitting position. “Get down before you hurt yourself!” He shuffled his feet. “In any case, if I had to use a word to describe the kiss, it would be… gravitas.”
“Gravitas? What is that, like, Spanish?” Tanaka asked, folding his legs under himself on the bed as he turned to face Ennoshita.
“Latin. It means that something has ‘weight.’ Take the word gravity as example; gravity exerts a downward force on us. So we, as humans, have weight.” Ennoshita explained.
Tanaka frowned, still confused. “So the kiss was… heavy?”
Ennoshita brought his hands to his face and sighed for the umpteenth time that night. “No, Tanaka. When I say that the kiss had gravitas, I mean that it was impactful. It had enough weight or gravity to be meaningful.”
“Oh.” Tanaka took the liberty of clicking play to start the movie again. “So, I have to kiss Kiyoko with gravitas?”
“Yes, Tanaka.”
“Hell yeah!” Tanaka cheered, removing his shirt and twirling it thrice in a clockwise fashion.
This time, Ennoshita was the one that threw the pillow in Tanaka’s face.
---
Filming is a complex process, involving complex equipment and complex procedures. It’s hard work.
While Ennoshita and crew had already completed many scenes, they still struggled over one particular schtick. The lighting was damn near impossible, as it had to be dim enough to not reflect off of Tanaka’s skin, but also bright enough to highlight the contours of Tanaka’s face. So that’s how Ennoshita ended placing a three-legged fill light dangerously close to Tanaka’s head.
“So, Aki…” Tanaka started, his eyes drifting toward the ground. “Uh… line!”
Ennoshita facepalmed. “Tanaka, we’re not editing scenes like that. You have to actually know your lines. If I can fit in outside the shot, I might hold up your script, but otherwise, you’re on your own.” He sighed and let himself fall against the wall. “Again.”
Tanaka groaned and repositioned himself. “So, Aki…” he voiced, his eyes once again leaving Kiyoko and training themselves on the floor.
“And don’t let your eyes wander!” Ennoshita scolded, closing his own eyes from exhaustion.
Through it all, Kiyoko remained composed, ready with her lines whenever Tanaka managed to succeed with his own. In due time, she was able to recite her lines. Perfectly. Not looking away even once.
How the hell can she do that?! Is Kiyoko-san truly perfect in every way?!
They crowded around Ennoshita’s laptop to see how the scene turned out. But once the video played, Ennoshita out a long and perhaps rehearsed groan. “The lighting is off. We have to do it again.” This time, Tanaka groaned.
As they returned to their spots, Ennoshita began to fiddle with the fill light. “Stay where you are, Tanaka. I need to adjust the height and then check it before we roll again.”
He knelt down and twisted a knob where the three legs came together. Tanaka thought it was a bit precarious of him, but he wasn’t the film student. He didn’t move.
And so, when the legs of the fill light collapsed outward and the light came crashing down onto Tanaka’s head, Tanaka wished he had moved.
“Wha?!--” Tanaka grunted before crumbling to the ground.
“Tanaka!” Ennoshita yelled as he watched the event unfold. Tanaka was on his rear now, slightly dazed as he rubbed his left temple, where the heavy metal frame of the fill collided with his head.
“What the hell was that for?!” Tanaka complained, still kneading circles into his skin.
Ennoshita thought the area of impact was already starting to look blue-black. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Tanaka! Wait here, I’ll go get some ice from the nurse’s office!” With that, Ennoshita sprinted out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him.
Why’s he in such a hurry, Tanaka wondered. It’s just gonna bruise a little.
“You alright there, Tanaka?” Kiyoko inquired, observing his injury with concerned eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Tanaka replied with a chuckle, scratching his head. “It takes more than a light to bring me down!”
Soft laughter emanated from Kiyoko in response. “I’m glad.”
Score! Kiyoko thinks I’m funny! And she’s concerned for my safety! Inwardly, Tanaka wrapped himself in his arms and spun around in unadulterated euphoria. Outwardly, of course, he just grinned.
“I wouldn’t want all of Ennoshita’s hard work to go to waste just due to a small mishap.” Kiyoko added.
Ouch. I think that hurt more than the fill light.
Pounding footsteps brought Tanaka back to reality as Ennoshita panted back into the room, a towel-wrapped bag of ice in tow. “Sorry for the wait!” he yelled as he slammed the door shut. A quick look at Tanaka made him open his mouth wide. “Why the hell aren’t you sitting down?!”
“Uh--”
“You idiot!” Ennoshita scolded, pushing Tanaka towards a chair. “What if you fainted and injured yourself even more?!”
Kiyoko quietly excused herself before anything escalated further.
Tanaka felt the anger bubbling from his stomach and up through his throat as he watched Kiyoko leave the room. “Then you’d have to find a new actor for your damn film, right?!”
Something flickered in Ennoshita’s eyes after Tanaka’s comment, something that Tanaka couldn’t quite identify. The film student’s moony eyes waxed for a moment before settling back into their soporific glaze. Ennoshita smirked as he spoke. “Idiot.”
“Excuse me?!”
Ennoshita continued. “I’m not that heartless. I care more about your safety than about the acting consistency of this film.”
Tanaka raised an eyebrow. “Y-You do?”
“Tanaka, I’m letting you act in my film. I think it should be obvious that the actual acting is the least of my concerns.”
“Hey!” Tanaka complained, starting to stand up.
He was quickly pushed back down into his seat, however, and Ennoshita clicked his tongue. “Stupid. Would you just calm down for two minutes?” he asked tiredly. “Please?”
Tanaka grunted and wiggled into his chair, arms crossed stubbornly against his chest. A bag of ice was slowly pressed into his temple and he jumped at the sudden wintry contact.
“Look, if you don’t let me do this, it’s gonna hurt a lot more tomorrow,” Ennoshita argued, pulling the bag of ice to his side for a second. Tanaka grunted again, this one indicating his consent. Ennoshita once again approached with the ice.
He kneeled as he dabbed at Tanaka’s bruised skin, Tanaka finally eyelevel with the boy in front of him. Ennoshita’s eyes were wide, his nose scrunched up endearingly. The slightest beads of sweat had begun to coalesce between Ennoshita’s eyebrows. He was focused, that was for sure. But why?
Tanaka didn’t press the matter.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Ennoshita parroted.
“You’ve already said that, you know that…” Tanaka muttered in response.
He earned another soft smile from Ennoshita, who decided that Tanaka’s forehead was probably numb enough to leave the ice pressed to it. Tanaka winced before closing his eyes. “Do you not understand that ice is cold, Ennoshita?”
“Oh, I definitely do,” Ennoshita replied, pushing the hair out of his eyes with his free hands. “I just enjoy making you suffer.”
Tanaka frowned, but remained still. “Are you this mean to everyone you drop a light on?”
The film student laughed once again, this time more openly. “I didn’t think so, but then again, you’re the first person I’ve ever done that to. Let me do it again, and we’ll find out.”
“Ha,” Tanaka responded simply. “I’m not letting you adjust any lights by me in the near future.”
Ennoshita rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I suppose that’s fair.” A slight blush crept up from the bottom of his cheeks. Tanaka wondered where it was coming from. He didn’t spend much time thinking about it, though; he felt a little warm himself.
To the side, the door let out a muted squeak as Kiyoko re-entered the room. “Is everything alright now?”
Ennoshita laughed softly and flashed her a listless smile. “We’re all good, although I know a great way to rein in Tanaka if he ever gets out of line!”
“Hey!” Tanaka protested, standing up from his chair.
A sharp flick to the arm made him sit back down. “You were this close to being calm for two whole minutes,” Ennoshita moaned, the space between his index finger and thumb infinitely small. “You better not behave that way tonight.”
Tanaka stared into the distance as he tried to remember what was going on, though he gave up pretty quickly. “Tonight?”
Ennoshita let out another of his signature sighs. “Another AFI film? Do you ever remember any of your obligations?”
“I remembered that we had to film stuff today!”
“Tanaka, Kiyoko had to stop you from leaving the building.”
“Did not!”
“Wha--Yes, she did!”
“Oh yeah? Prove it!”
“Fine! Kiyo--” Ennoshita started, turning to an empty space. “Ko?”
Kiyoko had quietly excused herself before anything escalated further.
---
“Singin’ in the Rain? Why would anyone want to sing in the rain? They’d get soaked!” Tanaka pointed out, his mouth full of the most delicious ohagi he had ever tasted, courtesy of Ennoshita-san.
They were sitting on Ennoshita’s bed once again, crowded around a barely too small screen. “Well, the whole film originated when a man named Arthur Freed wrote a number of songs with composer Nacio Herb Brown. He simply told some screenwriters that they would make a film that would recycle songs he had written for musicals decades earlier.”
Tanaka let out a long groan and buried his face in his hands. “Wait, this is a musical?!” He groaned again.
Ignoring the groan, Ennoshita continued. “One of the songs happened to be called Singin’ in the Rain, and thus, a legend was born.”
“Yeah, but that still doesn’t explain why someone would want to sing in the rain, let alone sing about singing in the rain,” Tanaka complained, clearly perturbed.
“Haven’t you ever been so happy, you don’t think anything could ruin that feeling of joy?”
Tanaka tilted his head and hummed, trying to think of such a situation. “Oh, like when I finally passed my make-ups!”
“Uh, y-yeah! Sorta like that!” Ennoshita confirmed, although he was a bit concerned by the example. “Let’s get the movie started. You’ll probably get an even better picture of what I mean once you see it.”
The screen lit up with credits once again.
“Opening credits!” Tanaka exclaimed somewhat proudly.
“Very good, Tanaka!” Ennoshita teased. “Unfortunately, I’m all out of dog treats.”
Tanaka frowned and attempted to shove Ennoshita off the bed. But Ennoshita had been expecting it, as he had planted one leg firmly on the ground to anchor him to his spot on the mattress. “You’re an ass.”
“Just shut up and watch, you oaf.”
The two of them sat there, watching, enjoying. Another musical number came up and Tanaka looked to Ennoshita. It was to gauge his reaction, of course. Nothing more, nothing less.
One thing he began to notice was how whenever Ennoshita was happy, his eyes would either relax in contentedness or brighten in excitement. Sure, he was enjoying the movie himself, but seeing Ennoshita happy like that made it just that much better.
But that wasn’t weird, right? A smile borne of camaraderie is doubly bright. Ennoshita was probably happy that Tanaka was enjoying the movie as well. Probably. No, definitely. He was definitely experiencing the same thing.
They reached the scene where Donald O’Connor instructed Gene Kelly’s character to “Make ‘em laugh,” a humorous skit in its own right. The noises bubbling through Ennoshita’s lips began as giggles. Small, restrained, but definitely full of happiness.
It was cute.
Wait, cute? Whoa whoa whoa whoa--
Tanaka’s sudden panic was interrupted by an evolved form of vibrant laughter from Ennoshita. Before he knew it, Tanaka was laughing too.
“See, Tanaka? Films that can--” he paused to giggle a bit, “--that can do this--those are the great films.” Ennoshita barely squeezed in that last bit before succumbing to his fit of laughter.
A quick glance over to Ennoshita revealed eyes wide shut that began to water, as the rest of Ennoshita’s body remained doubled over.
Pure elation.
That’s what that was; it was easy for Tanaka to identify. He’d seen it thousands of times on Noya’s ugly mug, and even a select few times on the visage of Noya’s partner, Asahi. Those times that he saw it on Asahi’s face though… It was only when Asahi was with Noya.
A few more songs later, and Tanaka finally saw and heard the number that gave the film its iconic title. The main character muttered something before starting to sing, something about how all he can see is sunshine.
The sky is literally black. What is he on?
Gene Kelly skipped along, humming, hopping in puddles, and spinning around lampposts. “Why the hell is he so happy?” Tanaka muttered aloud.
“Because, Tanaka, the film they’re producing will finally get better, and he’s in love!” Ennoshita retorted with not much tact. He didn’t let Tanaka’s comment bother him though. He let his sleepy eyes drift back to the screen, and his mouth curled into a muted smile.
Happy because he’s in love, huh?
Once more, Tanaka looked to Ennoshita, who was staring blissfully at the laptop. Tanaka was unaware that his cheeks were rising and his lips were curving until they had already done so. But by that point, Tanaka was too happy to care.
Happy because he’s in love…
Wait.
Happy because… he’s in love?
Tanaka raised a hand to his face and realized, with abject horror, that he was smiling.
Oh my god.
---
“Noya, we’ve got a problem.”
“Ryuu…?” Nishinoya’s voice came sleepily through Tanaka’s phone speaker. “It’s two o’clock. Can’t it wait till morning?”
“It is morning!” Tanaka retaliated, getting impatient.
Tanaka heard groaning and the ruffling of bedsheets on the other end of the line, capped by the sound of a lamp being turned on. “You’re the worst, Ryuu. I hope you know that. So what did you so desperately need to know that you have to call me at this ungodly hour for?
“How did you know you were in love with Asahi?” Tanaka responded promptly.
Tanaka was met with silence on the other end. Perhaps Nishinoya was surprised by the question. “Ryuu… You called me… At two in the morning… Because of a god damn crush?!”
“Oh come on, you did the exact same thing when you had your ‘Asahi is hot’ crisis!”
“That was different!”
“How was that different?!”
Nishinoya groaned. “Fine. So you wanted to know how I found out I was in love with Asahi, yeah?”
Tanaka nodded his head furiously before realizing that Nishinoya couldn’t see him. “Uh, y-yeah!”
“Alright, let me think for a moment,” Nishinoya murmured. Tanaka almost made a comment about how thinking was such an odd thing for his friend to do, but then thought better of it. He needed Noya’s words of wisdom dearly.
“I guess, whenever I was with Asahi, I was just… Happy, you know?” He paused. “Like, even if the school were on fire--erh, bad example, that’d make me happy too. Even if we lost a volleyball match or something, I’d be happy just because I got to do it with Asahi. Does that, uh, make any sense?”
Tanaka fixated on a stain on his bedroom carpet. “Like singing in the rain,” he breathed.
“Huh?”
“N-Nothing!” Tanaka stuttered. “I think I’ve got it figured out now. Thanks a ton, Noya!”
“Yeah, yeah, you owe me Gari-Gari Kun for like, a week after pulling this shit.”
With that, Nishinoya ended the call, leaving Tanaka with dial tone and lots of time to think up ways to feign sickness for the next week of school.
---
“This is the final shot, Tanaka. We’ve gotta make this scene count.” Ennoshita was pacing now. Tanaka had no idea why he had any reason for nerves. You can redo a shot as many times as you need to.
“Got it, got it,” Tanaka mumbled. His mind wasn’t really on filming at the moment. It was more so focused on whether or not Ennoshita intentionally kept his eyes halfway open to seduce everyone he ever came in contact with.
Ennoshita continued to pace. “This is where Haruka finally gains the guts to tell--no, show Akiko how he really feels about her. You have to take the initiative, walk towards the person you love, and just kiss the hell out of her.”
Walk towards the person you love…
“You got all that, Tanaka?”
Ennoshita seemed to shake Tanaka from his stupor once more. But perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps it wasn’t a stupor that Tanaka was in at all, but rather, a state of both realization and acceptance. The realization and acceptance of a fact that he knew for some time.
Tanaka nodded his assent.
Behind the camera, Ennoshita spoke that immortal word of the filming industry: “Action!”
Kiyoko spoke first, opening the shot. She took a step forward, “Haru, I--”
“Aki, just let me do something first,” Tanaka, or rather Haruka interrupted. “It’s… Something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now…”
Tanaka closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The air rushed through his nose and burst into his lungs, giving his body the breath it needed to take the steps he so desperately needed to take right now.
Slowly, he began to walk towards Kiyoko and the camera behind her. Ennoshita could barely contain his excitement as Tanaka grew larger in the lens of the camera, signalling the finality of this one scene. But as he reached the spot where he was instructed to stop, right in front of Kiyoko, Tanaka turned.
“Damn it, Tanaka! We’ll have to redo it now!” Ennoshita complained, standing up from his chair.
But Tanaka paid no mind to his complaint, and instead continued to walk towards the camera.
Walk towards the person you love…
He stopped in front of Ennoshita.
And kiss the hell out of him.
When Tanaka’s lips crashed into Ennoshita’s, Tanaka felt the nerves rush out of his body and the warmth of the kiss take its stead. Ennoshita’s eyes widened at the surprise contact, but they sank down into an oneiric, closed state as soon as he kissed Tanaka back. Tanaka felt the warmth blossom inside of him. It was the warmth of a home, somewhere in which he could find solace.
To the side, Kiyoko smiled as she shut the door behind her, quietly excusing herself before anything escalated further.
Ennoshita pulled away first and rested his head against Tanaka’s. “Damn it, you ruined a good scene, Tanaka.”
“Yeah, but you’re glad I did,” Tanaka replied smugly before moving to kiss Ennoshita again. It didn’t last as long as the first, but both of them melted into it right away this time.
As they pulled away for the second time, Tanaka looked at Ennoshita’s face. His eyes were lidded, but they weren’t condescending. In fact, if you took his toothless smile that led to dimpled cheeks, you might even say that his eyes were loving.
Tanaka didn’t have to reach a hand to his face to know that he was smiling too.