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Vibrations. Periodic back and forth motion of particles in an elastic body or medium from the position of equilibrium when that equilibrium has been disturbed. A quivering and trembling motion. Rapid, steady, sudden, loud, quiet. When some of the vibration's quality is strong enough, it would reach the air molecules, making them bump against each other, to the molecules beside it, beside it, around it, and it reaches the eardrum. It vibrates too in return. Then, comes a sound. A string instrument, someone else's sigh, a droplet of water hitting concrete, someone picking up a pencil, the whirring of an unused toaster stilll plugged in, someone tying their tie the wrong way, someone blinking. When the sound is too miniscule he would believe it's some kind other sense working and not his hearing, because supposedly his ears are normal. But what he feels are, regardless, vibrations. The source of every sound that can be heard in this world. When something vibrates it makes a sound, no matter how minor. A very sensitive equilibrium. If he closes his eyes, he can memorize those vibrations. Clacking of equipments, a camera's lens cap taken off, footsteps of a few dozen people, the wind, dull thud of chopsticks against lunchboxes, paper being shuffled, pages being turned, hair swaying, soft rustle of a clothing, the chair behind him made a sound. And then that voice. Which went through countless millions of molecules in the air to make contact with his ears,
"Masaya-kun aren't you?"
Masaya opens his eyes again to greet the darkness, his senses aren't dulled. He still remembers. A smile creeps up his face, he's flushed red. Chuckling like a kid too excited when hiding during a hide-and-seek, so excited. The rush of his blood and his heartbeat quickly became noisy, loud enough to drown the quiet audio of a movie he was rewatching for the hundreds, thousands, of times. He grips onto his trousers to contain himself but he couldn't help it, it feels like he wants to pee. So he stands up, wobbly walking into his bathroom without turning on the lamp—as he believes, when his room is too bright it becomes too loud for him. When he's watching something, every light should be turned off, only his TV screen should be beaming. Especially after he stopped acting. Masaya could only rely on his ears, picking up the subtle sound designs. He internalized his work, his directions and preferences, what is being conveyed on the screen. Trying to hold a conversation with the figure behind the actors, behind the cameras, behind the equipments.
Flush. Masaya perks up as he stumbles out of the bathroom, "I haven't replied…" Warmth surges to his cheeks. Time stays still in that room when he paused the movie he was watching. The young man didn't realize that he has been procrastinating on replying that email for two days now. The email did say 'no rush', but this industry actually moves too fast to his liking. His editing work was done a few days earlier. So he has been doing nothing but watch movies. His movies again. Masaya usually would watch the old ones, where the man he's seeking is visible in front of the camera, but lately he has been watching his newer works instead—the award winning ones are also really good. Wanting to know the kind of man he's becoming after years being apart from Masaya. Well, he might not even remember him, that's the thing. But if he remembers, what would Masaya do? He fantasized about it for years.
What face would he show me?
What should I say to him?
Would he respond? With his voice?
Should I tell him that I love him?
He yelps, surprised by his own train of thoughts. Falling backwards onto his pillow covered floor. He rolls on it back and forth slowly. There's no way he would take it well if Masaya confess his love the first time they face each other again after years. But they're about to meet again, reconnecting, and Masaya has been losing sleep because of this. "Hehe," it's all too exciting, "I should reply soon… Hehe…" He's way too excited, "Hehehehehehe, there's no wayyy…" He grasped his phone in two tries. When the screen lights up the email screen is already open. He hasn't closed it in ages because he mainly uses laptop, he screenshot it anyway and made it his lockscreen. The sender's name is blatant on the email address. Gotanda Taishi. The same man whose face is plastered all over Masaya's walls.
The shooting place was humid and warm. Everyone got cranky if they can't get a scene right—not only the actors but the stage crew as well, the staff, the director. Amidst them was a small boy. One of those child actors. Was cast simply because he has a unique look, a condition called heterochromia. The adults would squeal and compliment him on it. Something that he was born with, and not even a talent in acting. Just strange genes that made other kids called him strange—not that he minded them too much. He lived his whole life with one grey colored eye so he didn't have to adjust or 'get used to it'. This is just how it is. But this was the first time he got cast in some film.
Script reading was a bit tough since there were some difficult kanji here and there. Mostly they were just instructions though, there weren't any lines for him. What a confusing job, he had thought to himself. He would rather stay at the orphanage and read books during hot weathers like this. Someone offered him an ice cream an hour ago but the effect didn't last as long as he would like. The boy lowered his cap to cover his eyes from the blinding sun, everything is noisy because it's so bright. Even though he's staying inside of an open tent, the shade only helped as much as a shade could. It didn't help cool the air, it didn't help lowering the sun to the back of the horizon. He frowned, sweat beading on his forehead as he stared absentmindedly at someone else's dialogue in the script he's holding. Some equipment made a clacking sound, a camera's lens cap was taken off, there were footsteps of a few dozen people, the wind blew a bit harder a second ago, he heard a dull thud of chopsticks against lunchboxes, paper being shuffled, pages being turned, someone's hair was fluttering with the wind, then a soft rustle of a clothing, the chair behind him made a sound.
"Masaya-kun, aren't you?"
When the little boy turned around, there was a handsome man behind him. The hair was dyed in muddy color but it didn't make his face seem dim or anything. The man had a rather stern look on him. "You were staring at the script for a while now," he pointed, finger tapping on the page exactly twice, "there's something you don't understand? I can help you read if you want. We have a scene together after all. Oh, but you don't have any lines, don't you? You can relax." He surprisingly talked a lot. His voice was crisp, there's a little hush at the end of his sentences, like he dragged some of his words. His choice of words were polite despite how laid-back he's acting, he didn't try to pronounce his vowels clearly so maybe the way he talks can kind of sound like a loud mumble. He sounded clear yet muted, loud in volume but not noisy. Masaya didn't come to those observations until some years later in the future, but his childish mind then was enough to take notice that he got himself captivated by a handsome stranger.
Little Masaya was a shy boy. He only stared at the man at the chair behind his out of shock and confusion on how to answer. His guardian was out to buy something, probably juice because Masaya asked something cold to drink. The convenience store wasn't too far from here but his guardian still had to use a car to go there—of course because he needed the air conditioner as well. The boy gulped, he got a grasp on what he should do during their scenes already, it's no big deal. But he felt like if he answered truthfully that he got it, he would appear cocky and he didn't know what sentences would make him sound polite at that moment. He gripped slightly on his script, still cautiously as to not wrinkle the page, "Um, how do you read this?" He decided to ask anyway. He pointed to a kanji in someone else's line, as if curious. He didn't care to know, but he felt like he had to ask anyway.
He could hear the rustle of the man's shirt again when he shifted to close their distance, to peek into the line that he pointed at. "Ji kūkan (space-time), isn't it? That's how it's read," he answered, his voice was at ease, like he wasn't talking to a kid at all. When talking to a kid, or someone physically and visibly much younger, people tend to try and entertain them, somewhat. A form of 'looking down', maybe. Masaya didn't figure it out by himself, his guardian told him so. A knowledge Masaya needed to keep in mind if he was going to spend his time surrounded by filming staff.
"But that's not your line, right? What? Were you studying other's lines as well?"
"Eh? Um," he wasn't. He wasn't even curious about that line anyway. He just picked a random kanji that he couldn't read to entertain the man. He didn't plan the conversation far enough past that question. He shook his head, "No, uh, I just didn't know how to read the kanji…"
"I see."
It's a really nice voice to hear though. Between the summer noises, the older actor's voice sounded distinct. Laid back. Calmer. Not high-pitched, the kind of voice that other adults would make in presence of a child as young as him. It made the boy less dizzy—maybe he had been feeling dizzy, he only realized it then because he's feeling much better after the older actor came around. Masaya turned the script's pages to see which actor was this. The one who would share a scene with him. There were several. This one was a man, pretty young maybe. Ah, he stopped at a name. The boy turned to look at the man behind his chair again, now the man was drinking a cold soda that looked very good among this scorching heat. He kind of wanted the older man to talk to him more. He wanted to listen to him talking for some more. It's normal for a little kid to be easily impressed, yes, and their interaction was nothing sort of special. But Masaya urged himself to ask more questions during the filming since that day, specifically targetting the older actor.
Gotanda Taishi.
"He became attached to you, Gotanda-san," someone had said. The boy's guardian said the same as well.
"Haha, I guess," he looked visibly uncomfortable. Definitely not used to being tailed by a child like that. He doesn't get along with one and didn't even try to. Was just trying to build a good relationship with a fellow actor. But a child wouldn't notice to such things. The little boy won't notice a frown from a forehead that exists somewhere beyond the height of his head. Masaya was just happy to be there.
In fact, he was so happy that he decided he should work in the same field as Gotanda Taishi.
Years of hard work have brought him to this moment. All the stars aligned that one time and finally, he was offered a job that would bring him into Gotanda Taishi's periphery. And because of that, he is now in Director Gotanda's contact list. The other day, he received an email from Gotanda himself, saying that he needed a sound designer for an upcoming movie he's working in. Masaya's name had gotten big enough to do sound design for some indie productions that Gotanda heard about it. He can't be more elated. Though, sure, he did procrastinate on answering the email. It delayed their interaction by two precious days. Thankfully the casting hasn't finished yet, so technically production was in its very early stage. He exchanged numbers with Gotanda as well through email. Now he's staring at the contact info unblinking, unbelieving. This is a dream come true for him. The man that he has been idolizing about all of his life is now so close and just one call away, one message away, one day away from meeting him directly. He could meet him faster if he call now and tell Gotanda that he'd like to reschedule, but oh no, he wouldn't dare to waste the Director's precious time like that. He'll waste his time later, at the time and place that they agreed upon.
The clock ticks away and since Masaya doesn't have any work at the moment, he hasn't moved an inch from his bed. The contact info still feels unreal on the beaming screen between his palms. His thumb trembled, holding itself back from pushing that call button. That's bad, Masaya, you shouldn't be so clingy. He chuckled despite the voice chastising himself in his head. That's right, people nowadays don't like clingy partners don't they? Masaya himself, though, he would like it if the Director can be clingy with him. Now, that is something that he can't fantasize about. Due to his hopeless admiration towards Gotanda, Masaya still has some respect for his privacy to an extent. The stalking doesn't count, it's just browsing. The stalking doesn't count, it's just guessing where he would shoot his next scenes. The stalking doesn't count, it's just asking about his well-being to some colleagues. The sneaky pictures he took, the binoculars he bought for the sole purpose of watching him, the path he memorized that Gotanda would take—all don't count considering their proximity are totally safe. He respects Gotanda to an extent. And he shows it by preventing himself from fantasizing a scenario where the Director would return his feelings.
Because out of all, that sounds the most unrealistic. Masaya realized he has such a terrible personality. That aside he doesn't look pretty as well, as he grew up his grey eye stand out like a sore thumb. A terrible personality usually can be excused if someone looks a certain way, working in this industry would make one understand that beauty privilege is a real deal to one's career. A stage staff like him has no need to worry about that kind of stuff though. Still, 'a creep'—was what he heard when someone was talking about him upon seeing his towering figure waiting in a line for taiyaki. When you're past a certain age, a quirk that seemed cute to others when you were a kid became a weird feature on your adult self. If you fidget and it looked endearing when you were young, as you grow up you just look aloof. If you're blunt and it sounded like you're smart as a child, as an adult you just 'can't read the room'. The same applies to his grey eye. He never needed to 'get used to it', he lived with this strange eye since he was born. He grew out his bangs a little and his predicament got partially solved. He unconsciously touches his own eyelid as his mind wanders some more, rubbing it as he closes that grey eye. A reflection of him stare back when his phone's screen went black. There is no way a person like Gotanda, who worked with so many good-looking actors, would find him attractive. That's why he never dared to fantasize about it. Not once.
He accidentally fell asleep at one point. The air felt different when he opened his eyes. The AC is still the same temperature yet he woke up cold—his blanket laid useless on the floor beside his bed, above many empty plastic bottles. He lazily gets up to charge his phone and checks the time. It's already the next day, very early in the day. Later afternoon he will meet Gotanda Taishi. Masaya blinks rapidly. He feels a surge of warmth filling up his cheeks again. His gaze turned to the bedside table where his photo resides, snug inside of a clean wooden frame, behind a glass. He grabs it gently to kiss where his lips should be. The red burns on Masaya's face, showing how his heart and his blood and all of his body are blazing out of excitement. And this is still so early in the morning.
"I'll take a shower, Taishi-san."
Today's weather forecast said that it would be cloudy, no mention of chance of rain. But the sky is rather blue, the sun is blistering bright. The forecast lady wasn't at fault and all the blame can only be directed to god or carbon emission. Or both, since allegedly as the creator of all matters, god created carbon emission too. It feels warm on the skin, residual from mid day's heat. Heat that lingers on one's neck and back after a trip back to their office from getting lunch. He only realized the heat when he finally open his curtain to peek at the neighbor's dog barking after he showered. He thought the sky would be darker, in fact his curtain is just too thick. Masaya is not a fan. Walking to the train station will make him feel warmer than he should, so he opted to use his pickup truck instead. He didn't forget to take out all Gotanda related things in his wallet before heading out. Cards are all there, he has cash if needed, driving license, hard candies, business card—he hasn't been going out a lot as his work can be done mostly at home if he's not directly invited to attend a filming. Honestly, he won't feel this groggy if he's just meeting some other colleague, his hands were fumbling his keys and he rechecked if he locked his door four times. Off-balance all over, because he can't stop thinking about Gotanda.
The latest public picture of his was posted on a news outlet three months ago talking about an indie movie that consulted him for the stage directing. The latest video interview was two years ago, where Masaya could see and hear him talk at the same time. Gotanda isn't the most active Director out there, and his scenes so far are rather small in movie industry despite the awards that he won. But he directs some old dramas and is still being consulted by his peers regularly for TV series. He helped a lot with editing footage for indie and TV productions too in the recent years—the surprising amount of editing jobs that he took was surprising Masaya a bit. He's still in the scene, he's still creating and that's all that matters to Masaya. This new project was for a TV drama, half a season length deal. So there should be plenty of time for him to watch him work again, up close this time—not hidden behind some thorny bushes or using a strong zoom from a neighboring building like before. Everytime he's stopped by a red traffic light, he has to remind himself to breath. To not imagine the older man's face too much lest it'll give him a heart attack. He will be in contact with Director Gotanda. They will shake hands. They will sit down and have a conversation. They will see each other face-to-face. Masaya chokes on air. He should choke on air all he wants right now inside of his pickup truck and not embarrass himself later in front of his Gotanda.
"Nice to meet you, Director," he clears his throat. He adjusts his voice to sound less sluggish as much as he could without showing that he's desperate about this meeting. The grip on his steering wheel tightens, he can't stop a smile from breaking into his face.
"Nice to meet you, Director." He grits his teeth, "Maybe too formal…?" But formal is good, formal is safe. Formal would diminish his overbearing feelings but that's the point, isn't it?
The restaurant finally appears in his line of sight. There's a bright and distracting reflection from some car's side-view mirror when he tried to see if. any of the people in the restaurant is the Director he's meeting. When the light passed he confirmed that he sees none yet. Hopefully he's not inside yet, hopefully Masaya is the early one. He'll pick a spot where it's not too noisy, where the sun doesn't beam directly towards their table and warm their cold drinks. He offered to make a reservation at somewhere better during their exchange, but Gotanda said that's not a problem. That he knew somewhere they can talk for a long time without rushing their meals. He'd trust Gotanda with his credit card, so he only said yes. Truthfully, he's not familiar with this restaurant at all so he doesn't know if he can spot Gotanda immediately if he's already inside. Masaya parks his car and when he's heading to the entrance, a familiar figure is immediately visible. Brown hair, tousled, half up and tied at the back. Wearing a suit jacket over a shirt because this is still a business meeting at the end of the day—making Masaya wonder if he should've went with a suit as well instead of his flannel shirt. He was treating this like a date instead of a meeting and that's probably him being a groggy fucker over a chance to see Gotanda. The Gotanda that he sees right now has thin layer of stubbles peppering his chin. He's shorter than what he remembers—to be fair the only memory of Gotanda's height that he can look back on was when Masaya was a little boy. Masaya outgrew him by a lot.
Before he could stop himself, he lifts his hand in a static wave, "Director Gotanda." He calls out. His heart drumming wildly immediately after. He could've just said hi once they're both inside but no, his stupid mouth just decided to run itself without Masaya's express permission. Time stretches as he sees Gotanda looks around, trying to figure out who was the one calling him after he checked his phone. Masaya gulped, he reaches down his sling bag and rummages around frantically.
Those eyes stopped after noticing a figure so out of place between the thin crowds of pedestrian. Just beside a pickup truck is a man with straight hair and long bangs, long enough to cover his eyes inconveniently. The figure is looming over everyone's stature, wearing a dark brown flannel and bringing a slingbag. A gust of wind was enough to sway those long bangs and show the pair of eyes under his glasses. A grey eye pierced into his vision and Gotanda felt like he was seeing a ghost from a long past that he didn't think much about. He wears an easy smile, surprise apparent on every line of his face, "Whoa, you're that Masaya-kun, aren't you? Are you the one meeting with me today?"
To hear that voice again after a long long while, not through a public interview or a video format, almost make Masaya wanting to bolt away from the scene. Forget about this job, this is a daydream coming to life and he feels like he's undeserving of such opportunity. They're standing on the same sidewalk, they're close enough to hear each other without raising the amplitude of their voices. His reaction was delayed, he can't just stand there like a fool. Masaya nods almost frantically even though he tried to stay calm, "Yes, Director," he fussed with his pocket a bit and to his sleeve to clean his already dry palm before extending his hand, "Ito Masaya. I'm very honored to be able to- I mean, nice to meet you, Director." He is a nervous wreck. He can't form proper sentences even though he practiced during his drive here. He was overconfident with his conversation ability only because he has been talking to his clients and colleagues and making it as an adult in this world but Gotanda proves to be another challenge altogether for him. He overestimated his ability to talk to this man that he has been watching for the past twenty or so years. He thought he knew Gotanda well enough to respond to his words but it turns out the very sight of Gotanda Taishi rendered his brain useless, turning his scripts and preparations into a useless pile of garbage that he can't bear to look at again because he's anxious those would make him sound foolish. Though, he is now acting foolish. Tongue tied and he stuttered, changing his mind mid sentence.
"I'm surprised you remember me at all," his voice too low in volume than what he'd like. But it seems that Gotanda caught it just fine.
"You can't forget a face like that," he points at his own right eye and smiles. Not knowing how lethal his smile is for the young man before him. "You hit a growth spurt," he cocks his head towards the entrance, willing to continue the conversation inside.
Gotanda didn't think much when he was recommended a guy named Masaya to help his sound designs. When googled, Ito Masaya would show up in credits and the likes but never a big enough name to be echoed by the mass media. Though, considering the backstage staff position, an interview is practically out of their job description. Not a concern. He couldn't find his face either, probably he'd know if he checked LinkedOut but he kind of didn't. Still preferring to talk personally like the old man that he is. The portfolio looked good and above average so he sent an email. For it to be the Masaya he knew from a filming so far in the past, when he was still an actor, was unexpected. Like he said, no one would forget a face like that. Even grown up, Masaya has the brand of his grey right eye on him. People who had seen him at a different stage of life would easily recognize him just by seeing his grey eye. It's some kind of once-in-a-lifetime encounter for Gotanda too in a way that encountering a male calico cat is very rare. Not everyone in the world have a chance to, some died without ever seeing a male calico cat in their life. It's not like he's fixated on the eye either. More to the fact that it left a lasting impression on him at the very back of his mind.
They sit in one of the cubicles inside of the restaurant. Facing each other. The small space encourages their respective voices to be isolated enough and be heard by them only. Gotanda said that this restaurant doesn't have a time limit on how long a customer could stay around after their meal unless it's closing time. The wooden walls around them preventing the air molecules to vibrate along and passing their disturbance onto other guests' eardrums. While it isolates voice, it also isolates Masaya. Being in the same table with Gotanda messed with his senses that he felt his tinnitus got worse for a moment until he realized that it's not that bad. His brain got fried so bad that it refused to register things Gotanda said to him for the first few seconds. He only comprehended bits like questions about the menu and if Masaya can stand spices. His eyes darted around the menu book and he doesn't remember what he picked from them as well, he only remember ordering a cold oolong tea as the drink. He is hungry but that too went unnoticed as he's so unbalanced. He's lost an anchor that he thought he was holding firmly onto—maybe the anchor didn't exist in the first place. In his unearned confidence on nailing interactions with Gotanda today, Masaya had forgotten that in his nature he is an introverted person who needs to be more anxious before a meeting and not excited. He had gotten cocky. This is his punishment for acting like he's got it all figured out.
"So you stopped acting."
A server deliver their drinks, Gotanda nods to her as he takes his glass and sips on his cold drink. The food comes very shortly after, still steaming hot. It seems like Masaya ordered a portion of yaki udon, the plate lets out a steam and the smell of the chicken on top of it lets out a savory smell—yeah, he didn't remember his own order at all. He just centered himself enough to listen to what Gotanda was asking him, "Yes… Well, I only acted once…" He doesn't know if that even counts. He only acted once and it was with Gotanda in it. Consider himself lucky. But Masaya really doesn't have any interest in acting in the first place, he doesn't like meeting people routinely. He still has to do so during other film productions, but when he's not taking any production works, he's just taking post-production sound related jobs. Mixing and stuff. He's getting good at it, all just so he could one day work with Gotanda again, or under him, it really doesn't matter which.
"You quit acting as well, Taish- Director…" He slipped, he shouldn't be addressing the Director so casually now that they're in a new professional environment.
Gotanda hums, smiling languidly, "That's old news." He quit acting a long while ago. Masaya never knew the reason. "And you can just call me by name, it's alright. It turns out we know each other, so just relax. We can just hang while talking business," he sways his glass left and right, able to see that the younger man is nervous. Masaya's portfolio goes a way back, there 's no way he's green at this. So it's probably the pressure of meeting a Director. So he thought. There is no way he'd know that the younger man is infatuated with him. So this is just a plain old nervousness that he's seeing.
Masaya sighs, attempting to steady his own heartbeat, "Okay… so, Taishi-san," he feels wamrth in his cheeks regardless. He said it. I said his name. And he's smiling at me.
"Right," his brown hair falls in loose strands in front of his face. Gotanda reaches for his pack of cigarettes instinctively for a second. He stops once he remembers that this is not a bar. He hums again, "So, what do you do these days?"
Masaya perks up, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Ah, yes," a clear file is taken out of his bag, "I mainly work in production sound mixer, sound related um…. Sound design, post-production mixing, things like that. I have a small studio for um, recording." Anything Gotanda needs to verify is in that clear file folder. Gotanda doesn't take it.
Between the clanks of eating utensils are the sounds from the kitchen. Sizzling, water boiling, staff talking and shouting. The air vibrates dull around their cubicle. The warm white light overhead might as well be useless against the sun which waltzes with its glistening curtain through the open windows. On the business matter, their conversation flows steadily. Gotanda asked about Masaya's previous projects. Masaya asking about the project Gotanda is planning. When are they going to start production? Who's the Line Producer? What sound units are needed? The casting too, even though that's not Masaya's problem. The locations, have they decided? Who's the writer? The black haired man notes down some points into his pocket journal. Diligent, is the impression that Gotanda took from that gesture. It's good to have a habit of noting things down, especially on paper. Writing the words line by line while holding a pen would make memorizing easier too instead of just typing into one's phone. That's what he believes. If that's incorrect then he's just an old-timer.
Masaya became less self-conscious. They also talked about mundane matters. About the weather. About the economy. About a latest motion capture method. About how now internet personalities are celebrities as well, even often bigger than the TV-only entertainers. About a cafe that recently opened but immediately faced plagiarism allegations on their logo—last time Gotanda heard they changed the logo already, but there's no stopping internet's wild fire. Mundane things that Masaya didn't get to talk about with Gotanda due to his age back then. For example, when the adults would talk about the increase of price for fresh fruits and bento boxes, little Masaya would only listen. Grasping the concept but failing to understand that these discussions affect their livelihood immediately. His guardian back then would only talk about finances in a simple, "We don't have enough to travel to Osaka right now," way. He didn't feel the nuance of urgency within these topics. Now that he understood so much more what comes with an adult's life, he can have this conversation with him. Also, about booze as well. Masaya is of drinking age now. He has his own stash in his fridge at home and he can give opinions on the brands that Gotanda is mentioning. He can say that he's not a wine person, he can understand when Gotanda says something about the bitterness of a Guinness is comforting. Not that comprehending and being understood on adult conversations a new thing to him, but because this is Gotanda Taishi we're talking about. Because it feels like something leaped from the past, and they're now conversing arbitrarily in a diner which serves stir fried meals. A good dose of nostalgia and something to look forward to again and again. The younger man found himself contented, glad that he didn't kill himself after he graduated from high school.
His appetite returned just a bit after they talked about the current running drama—the genre is coming of age, kind of. It's full of friendship conflict and recently the episodes started to show romance between the female lead and an unexpected boy, the actor that was thought to be the male lead surprisingly has his own conflict going on in this current arc. It's not a bad drama, but it's also pretty average in terms of quality. The camera works and locations are good, the hired faces are young and new actors who looked unpolished but they have decent acting. Though, the problem was in the script. Gotanda criticized it as having stiff dialogues and unrealistic plot twists. It would be passable as a TV drama, of course, especially to keep suspense between weekly episodes, but it's not in any means a quality entertainment when someone happen to binge it later.
"It became repetitive, but the number of viewers are steady, I heard. With the way they kept making the plot takes dramatic turns, of course cliffhangers will be common in almost every episode."
Masaya listens closely. One hand writing down the aspects that Gotanda pointed out as 'flawed storytelling'. When Gotanda repeats his points, Masaya would still listen without interrupting while eating his yaki udon that suddenly tastes very good. His own slurps sound very content to his own hearing, he can hear his own smile, he really is experiencing heaven right now. "So, despite being flawed, it keeps the viewers on edge enough to be engaged. It's a good strategy too, I think," Masaya's voice is steadier than before. He doesn't stutter as much and can react just in time, embarrassing himself less.
"For TV, yes," Gotanda chews the last bite of his meal. He kept reaching for his cigarettes pack and retreating his hand because he can't smoke in this diner. "We should meet up in some bar next. Do you smoke, Masaya?"
"Eh?" Next? Next time? They will meet up again? Masaya bites his inner cheek until he can feel that he scarred it. He nods a bit too quickly in response, "Yes, I smoke. A bar sounds really nice." He smokes because he learnt that Gotanda Taishi smokes. Masaya didn't have any interest in smoking before, but now he properly depends on nicotine. Less on the addictive characteristic of the nicotine itself, but more on the thought of being surrounded by tobacco smell—the same smell that covers Gotanda's whole wardrobe.
"Really?" Gotanda sounded a bit playful there, Masaya's heart skipped a beat, "You're still young so don't overdo it, okay?"
"Yes, Taishi-san," he's worried about me. This is bad, he can't stop smiling. As expected, Gotanda Taishi is still a nice and caring person that he remembers. The same person that approached him and asked if that odd little boy had any questions regarding the script in the middle of a scorching heat. The same person that talked to him so easily, who didn't sound like he was looking down on the child. He should lower his expectations a little, he can't go ahead and let his thoughts run wild on Gotanda. It would be so rude. It would be unbecoming. He still respects this man—he thinks so.
It's gotten dark so they decided to finish the meeting. Not Masaya's choice, obviously, but he has to play his cards right if he wants to work on more and more projects with Gotanda. The sound of return traffic from the main road can be heard from this smaller street where the diner located. The dim roars of some cars passing, some bikes. Ah, Masaya realized the station nearby is probably crowded as well, people are rushing there. This place has several office buildings around the main road, so no wonder. The tap tap tap of their footsteps added to the crowded atmosphere in Masaya's mind space. Even though this corner is rather quiet. Quiet enough to hear the rustles of Gotanda rummaging through his pocket while they're walking out of the restaurant. Some old receipts are probably there inside his pocket too, Masaya could hear a rustle of some pieces of paper. Not cash, no, they're way thinner than that. So, receipts, probably. And then the lighter. It took three clicks for the flame to light properly. Gotanda takes the first inhale fervently, as if relieved. Maybe it's not good to immediately smoke as soon as they make it out of the door, the smoke can be carried by the wind to the other customers that are still eating inside. But Masaya is permissive towards the Director. He just copies that smile of relief as he feels the same seeing Gotanda's hand is no longer agitated by the lack of a cigarette between his fingers.
"Glad that you're willing to work with us," the smoke seeps out of his lips as he takes a glance up, looking at the significantly taller and younger man beside him, "you'll be a big help. We're on limited budget as well this time around, so we couldn't contract someone from a proper production company without paying the more expensive admin fees. Freelancer with good portfolio like yours is life-saving."
"No way, I should be the one thanking you for the opportunity, Taishi-san," Masaya fixes his sling bag. Gripping the shoulder strap tightly. "Did you come here by car, Taishi-san?" It was hard to hold himself back from asking. But he saw clearly that Gotanda didn't bring his own vehicle here. So big chance that Masaya can offer him a ride.
"Mm? Nope," he takes another drag and opens his phone. The two of them are now standing side by side just on the side walk, away from the entrance door as to not prevent other customers from coming in and out of the restaurant. "I used taxi. Hm, should've called one earlier," his mumbles are out loud as usual.
Bingo. Before Gotanda can spend more time on his phone and actually call a taxi Masaya has to step in, "I can drive you, Taishi-san, well… If you want." He timidly points to his parked pickup, "It would be faster, I think. Rush hour and such." Calling a taxi wouldn't take longer than waiting for a train but he really can't let this chance slip away. He wants to be closer with Gotanda. Giving him a ride once would increase his favor, right? Especially with how convenient a pickup truck is. Say, if Gotanda needs to transport bigger equipments or suitcases, Masaya's pickup would probably cross his mind and a chance of him asking Masaya to help out won't be zero. It would cut costs as well, Masaya doesn't need money. He could just say something like 'the drinks are on you next time, Taishi-san' to make an excuse to see him again and again outside of work meetings. So it would be very good if Gotanda accepts. Masaya could die from the tension of his own anticipation, please just accept the offer.
He watches closely. He sees Gotanda looking at his watch, then at his phone again as if the time on his watch didn't satisfy him. He sees Gotanda grinning with his cigarette between those teeth. It happened in less than two seconds but Masaya almost retract his words regardless. Gotanda's calm voice slides out before anything like that could happen, "Why not? You can pick me up as well next time."
"Of… of course," Masaya stammers. He hastily opens the passenger door before going around and settling in himself. He knows, he knows, that was a joke. Gotanda was joking about picking him up next time, but he can't stop the fluttering of his heart and he will be expecting it anyway. He's thankful the Director is more talkative than him because he kept struggling to start a conversation in the car due to Gotanda's statement. Not only there will be next time, but he can offer to pick him up also. And then drive him home again. Maybe someday he'll have a chance to drop by? He grips onto his steering wheel tight. His own heartbeat is being too noisy to his liking, he's almost afraid Gotanda will be able to hear it. The drive was quicker than he thought as Gotanda lives not too far from the diner he was recommending—makes sense. But it made Masaya regret that he didn't try hard enough to calm his frantic mind, so flustered over some uncertain opportunity to show up more in Gotanda's life.
Gotanda said good bye to him, Masaya dropped him just in front of his gate. He could hear some sounds from the inside of that house. Sounded like someone is cleaning. He doesn't want to overthink it. If it's a lover anyway, Masaya would still linger around Gotanda. He doesn't think anything could deter him. His target is not for Gotanda to return his feelings but for him to always exist in the Director's life. As he drives home Masaya sighs. He can hear his heart calming down slowly. His face is still warm but that's hardly a concern. A large smile breaks out, he chuckles to himself as mania surges into his whole being. Ecstatic. He forgot when was the last time he felt this happy, probably never. Masaya's life was never that exciting except when he's at home and watching something that Gotanda created or starred in. Nothing made him this excited since forever. Trembling hand reaches down to his sling bag as he waits for the light to turn green. He takes out a small voice recorder and presses the button to stop recording. There were so many pauses and background sounds in what recording he has now, especially with how the recorder had been sitting inside of his sling bag instead of any flat surface, but that's nothing, he can just edit them out. He can denoise the voices too. He will start a new collection from today onwards since he can finally meet Gotanda face-to-face. In real time. He'll make careful copies for himself, of course he'll keep it all for himself. He had waited for twenty or so years for this. Masaya exhales in relief, in satisfaction. He can't wait to get to his computer and loop his voice again and again and again.