Archive of Our Own

And then there was Tsukasa Tenma, whose voice cut through the ambient noise like a foghorn through fog.

"And THAT is why the star of the show must always arrive fashionably early! A true performer understands that preparation is the foundation upon which greatness is built! One cannot simply waltz onto stage without proper mental and physical readiness! Ahahaha!"

Several students within earshot winced. A first-year actually covered their ears. But Tsukasa seemed entirely oblivious to the reactions his volume generated, too caught up in his own passionate declaration to notice—or care—that he was causing a minor disruption in the hallway traffic flow.

"How fascinating that 'fashionably early' translates to 'thirty minutes before anyone else' in Tsukasa-kun's dictionary," came the amused response from beside him.

Rui Kamishiro walked at Tsukasa's side with his characteristic unhurried gait, that perpetual small smile playing at his lips. His purple hair caught the morning light, and his golden eyes tracked Tsukasa's animated gestures with undisguised fondness. To anyone actually paying attention—which, granted, most students weren't at this ungodly morning hour—the way Rui looked at Tsukasa was almost painfully obvious.

"Of course!" Tsukasa spun dramatically, nearly colliding with a passing student who swerved around him with practiced ease. Most of the school had learned by now to give Tsukasa Tenma a wide berth when he was in full theatrical mode. "A star must be prepared! The stage must be inspected! The props must be tested! The lighting must be—"

"Perfect, yes, I know," Rui interjected smoothly. "You've mentioned it approximately seventeen times this week. I've been keeping count."

"Only seventeen? I could have sworn it was more!" Tsukasa laughed at his own joke, then continued walking with renewed energy. "But you understand, don't you Rui? You're a director! You know the importance of preparation!"

"I do," Rui agreed, and his smile softened into something more genuine. "Your dedication is one of your most admirable qualities, Tsukasa-kun."

Tsukasa beamed at the compliment, completely missing the way Rui's eyes lingered on him just a fraction too long to be purely professional. "Well, naturally! A future star must—"

He was cut off by someone clearing their throat rather pointedly.

Akito Shinonome had been leaning against the vending machine near the stairwell for the past five minutes, ostensibly waiting for his drink to dispense. In reality, he'd been watching Tsukasa and Rui's approach with growing irritation, though he couldn't quite articulate why the sight of them together made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

His free period had just started, which meant he had forty-five minutes to kill before his next class. He'd been planning to grab a drink and find somewhere quiet to review his notes for the VBS practice later. He had not been planning to run into Tenma and his director doing their usual... whatever this was.

"Yo, Tsukasa-senpai," Akito called out, pushing off from the vending machine with deliberate casualness.

Tsukasa whipped around so fast his bag nearly flew off his shoulder. "Ah! Akito! Good morning!" His face lit up with that same enthusiasm he seemed to apply to everything in life. "How wonderful to see you! Are you on your way to class? The pursuit of knowledge is a noble—"

"It's lunch time," Akito interrupted flatly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Tsukasa blinked, then glanced at his watch. "Oh! So it is! Well then, good afternoon! Though really, time is but a construct when one is dedicated to their craft—"

"Time is a construct," Akito said flatly.

"Details!" Tsukasa waved his hand dismissively, the gesture so characteristically him that Akito felt the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

Rui's eyes had moved to Akito now, and for just a second—so brief that Akito almost thought he'd imagined it—something guarded crossed the director's expression. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual pleasant smile. "Shinonome-kun. Skipping class?"

There was something in Rui's tone that Akito couldn't quite place. Not hostile, not friendly either. Just... aware. Like Rui had noticed something and was filing it away for later consideration.

"Free period," Akito replied, moving closer to them. He noticed, with a strange hyper-awareness he couldn't explain, how Rui had shifted slightly—just a fraction, barely noticeable—closer to Tsukasa. Territorial, maybe? It was such a subtle movement that anyone else might have missed it.

But Akito had been noticing a lot of subtle things about Rui and Tsukasa lately. When they stood together, there was barely any space between them. When Tsukasa talked, Rui's full attention was on him in a way that went beyond professional interest. When Rui made suggestions during their shows, Tsukasa lit up like someone had handed him the keys to the kingdom.

It was, objectively speaking, kind of nauseating.

"What're you two doing?" Akito asked, even though he already knew the answer. They were always together between classes. Always planning, always discussing their next show, always in their own little world. "Planning another one of those weird shows?"

"They're not weird!" Tsukasa protested immediately, his voice rising in that way it did when someone challenged his artistic vision. "They're innovative! Creative! Boundary-pushing! Rui's directing is absolutely—"

"The best, yeah, I know," Akito cut in, smirking. He'd heard this speech before. Multiple times. "You mention it like every other sentence."

Tsukasa's face flushed slightly, a pink tinge spreading across his cheeks. "I—well—it's true! His vision for our latest show is incredible! The way he choreographed the aerial sequences was nothing short of genius! And the thematic elements he wove throughout the narrative arc? Spectacular! The way he utilized the lighting to emphasize the emotional beats of each scene? Masterful! And—"

As Tsukasa continued his enthusiastic rambling, Akito found himself watching Rui instead. The purple-haired senior's expression had gone soft—there was no other word for it. His eyes tracked every gesture Tsukasa made, following the movement of his hands as he gestured wildly to emphasize his points. The slight upward curve of Rui's mouth suggested genuine pleasure at Tsukasa's praise, but there was something deeper there too. Something almost tender in the way he looked at the blonde.

It was the look of someone watching their favorite movie, Akito thought. Or listening to their favorite song. The kind of attention that came from genuine affection, not just professional respect or casual friendship.

Rui had it bad.

And somehow, impossibly, Tsukasa seemed completely oblivious to it.

"—and that's why I believe this show will be our best one yet!" Tsukasa concluded triumphantly, having apparently reached the end of his monologue.

"Fufu, you flatter me, Tsukasa-kun," Rui said, and his voice had gone softer too. "I'm simply glad you understood the vision. Many people wouldn't have."

"Of course I understood it! Your mind works in such fascinating ways, Rui! The connections you make, the symbolism you employ—it's like watching a master painter at work!"

Akito felt his jaw clench without really meaning to. "Right, right," he interrupted, stepping between them with what he told himself was casual nonchalance. "Hey Tsukasa-senpai, didn't you say you'd help me with that math homework?"

Tsukasa blinked, his expression shifting from enthusiastic to confused. "I... did?"

"Yeah. Yesterday. You said you'd explain that problem I got wrong." The lie came easily. Too easily, maybe.

"I don't recall—"

"You probably forgot. You forget a lot of things," Akito said, already reaching out to tug at Tsukasa's sleeve. The material was soft under his fingers, and he tried not to think about why he noticed that. "Come on, I got practice later and I need to get this done before then."

Rui's smile remained perfectly in place, but Akito caught the slight tension that had entered his shoulders. The director's eyes flicked from Tsukasa to Akito and back again, and something calculating passed through his expression before settling back into pleasant neutrality.

"Ah, I suppose I'll see you after school then, Tsukasa-kun," Rui said smoothly. "For rehearsal."

"Oh! Yes, of course!" Tsukasa's face brightened immediately at the mention of rehearsal, like someone had flipped a switch. "I'll be there! Your staging ideas for Act 2 are brilliant, we absolutely must discuss the blocking for the ensemble scenes and—"

"Homework. Now," Akito insisted, pulling harder on Tsukasa's sleeve. He could feel Rui's gaze on him, heavy with unspoken questions.

"Ah—right! The homework! Of course!" Tsukasa allowed himself to be pulled along, waving back at Rui. "I'll see you later, Rui! Don't work too hard on the prop designs! Remember to take breaks! A well-rested director is a—"

His voice faded as Akito dragged him down the hallway, weaving through clusters of students. Akito didn't look back, but he could feel Rui's eyes on them the whole way. When they finally turned the corner, putting them out of sight, Akito glanced back once.

Rui was still standing there in the same spot, hands in his pockets, watching the space where Tsukasa had disappeared. His expression was unguarded now, without Tsukasa there to see it—open and fond and just a little bit sad.

It was the expression of someone who wanted something they couldn't have, or weren't sure they could have, or were afraid to reach for.

Akito looked away quickly, ignoring the weird uncomfortable feeling that had settled in his chest. It felt almost like guilt, which made no sense. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just asking Tenma for help with homework. That was completely normal. The fact that there was no actual homework was irrelevant.

"So," Tsukasa said as they walked, "what problem did you need help with?"

Shit. Right. The fake homework.

"Uh," Akito said eloquently. "The... algebra one. From yesterday's assignment."

"We had algebra yesterday?"

"Yeah. The quadratic equations thing."

"Akito," Tsukasa said slowly, "we're not in the same math class. And I'm pretty sure you're ahead of me in math anyway."

Double shit.

Akito stopped walking. Tsukasa stopped too, turning to face him with an expression that was more curious than accusatory. In the hallway lighting, his amber eyes looked almost gold, and there was something annoyingly earnest about the way he was looking at Akito, like he genuinely wanted to understand what was happening.

"Did you just make that up to get me away from Rui?" Tsukasa asked.

"No," Akito lied.

"You did, didn't you?" But Tsukasa didn't sound mad. If anything, he sounded... amused? "Why?"

"I didn't—" Akito started, then stopped. Why had he done that? What possible explanation could he give that wouldn't sound completely ridiculous? "You two are always together. Thought I'd, I don't know, give him a break from your loudness."

It was a weak excuse and they both knew it.

Tsukasa studied him for a moment, and Akito had the uncomfortable feeling of being seen in a way he didn't particularly like. Then Tsukasa's expression softened into something that might have been understanding.

"Rui doesn't mind my loudness," Tsukasa said gently. "He's told me multiple times that my energy is one of my strengths as a performer."

"Of course he has," Akito muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Akito shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, if you want to go back and find him—"

"No, it's fine," Tsukasa interrupted. "I can see him at rehearsal later. Besides, we haven't hung out one-on-one in a while, have we? Not since..." He trailed off, thinking. "Actually, I'm not sure we ever have. Outside of group activities, I mean."

That was true, Akito realized. Despite being in the same school, despite their groups collaborating occasionally, despite running into each other regularly, he and Tsukasa had never really spent time together. Just the two of them.

"Well, we're not exactly friends," Akito pointed out.

"Aren't we?" Tsukasa tilted his head. "I consider you a friend, Akito. You're talented, dedicated, and you push yourself to improve constantly. Those are qualities I admire! Plus, you're always honest—sometimes brutally so—and I appreciate that. A true star needs people around them who will tell them the truth, not just what they want to hear!"

Akito felt his face heat slightly. Compliments from Tsukasa Tenma, delivered with complete sincerity, were somehow more overwhelming than compliments from anyone else. Maybe because Tsukasa was so genuine about everything. There was no false modesty, no hidden agenda. When he said he admired something about you, he meant it.

"You're so weird," Akito said, but there was no bite to it.

"I'll take that as a compliment!" Tsukasa declared. "Now, since we're both free and we've established that there is no actual homework emergency, what should we do?"

"I actually do have practice later—"

"That's not for another two hours," Tsukasa said. "I know the VBS schedule. We coordinate with them sometimes for the stage. So you have time! We could grab lunch! Or go to the music room! Or—oh! Have you ever been to the rooftop? The view is spectacular and—"

"The rooftop's locked," Akito interrupted.

Tsukasa's grin turned mischievous. "Not if you know where Rui hides the spare key."

Despite himself, Akito felt a smile tugging at his lips. "You're telling me the great Tsukasa Tenma breaks school rules?"

"I prefer to think of it as creative interpretation of the guidelines," Tsukasa said primly. "A star must sometimes bend the rules in pursuit of inspiration! Though, to be clear, we don't do anything dangerous up there. We just sit and talk and sometimes run lines. It's very safe and responsible rule-breaking."

"That's not a thing."

"It is now! Come on, Akito! Let me show you the secret spot! Unless you're scared of heights?"

"I'm not scared of heights."

"Excellent! Then follow me!"

And somehow, despite his better judgment, Akito found himself following Tsukasa Tenma through the school's corridors, up two flights of stairs, and through a door that should have been locked but swung open easily when Tsukasa produced a key from behind a loose brick in the wall.

The rooftop was exactly as Tsukasa had described—spacious, with a good view of the surrounding area, and completely empty. Someone (probably Rui) had set up a couple of old crates to sit on, positioned to catch the best light during different times of day.

"See?" Tsukasa said proudly, spreading his arms wide. "Isn't it magnificent?"

"It's a roof," Akito said, but he had to admit the view was pretty decent. You could see most of the school grounds from here, and beyond that, a good portion of the surrounding neighborhood.

"It's not just a roof, it's a stage!" Tsukasa climbed onto one of the crates, striking a dramatic pose. "Sometimes Rui and I come up here to practice. The acoustics are actually quite good, and the open air helps with breath control and projection!"

He launched into a monologue from their latest show, his voice carrying across the empty space with practiced ease. Akito found himself watching despite having no particular interest in theater. There was something compelling about the way Tsukasa performed—completely committed, no self-consciousness, just pure enthusiasm for the craft.

When Tsukasa finished with a flourish, Akito found himself clapping slowly. "Not bad, senpai."

"Not bad? It was spectacular!" But Tsukasa was grinning, clearly pleased by the reaction. He hopped down from the crate and sat on it instead, patting the space next to him. "Come on, sit! Unless you're planning to stand the whole time?"

Akito hesitated, then moved to sit on the adjacent crate. They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a moment, both looking out at the view.

"Can I ask you something?" Tsukasa said eventually.

"Sure."

"Why did you really pull me away from Rui earlier?"

Akito felt his shoulders tense. "I told you—"

"You told me a lie," Tsukasa interrupted, but his tone was gentle. "And that's okay. You don't have to tell me the real reason if you don't want to. But I'm curious."

Akito stared at the horizon, trying to figure out how to answer. Because the truth was, he didn't really know himself. Or maybe he did know, but didn't want to examine it too closely.

"You two are together a lot," he said finally. "Thought maybe you needed a break from each other."

"We work together a lot," Tsukasa corrected. "But I never need a break from Rui. He's..." He paused, searching for words. "He's special. His mind works differently than anyone else I've met. When we're planning shows, it feels like magic. Like we're creating something bigger than either of us could make alone."

There it was again. That soft, reverent tone Tsukasa used when talking about Rui. And the thing was, Tsukasa probably didn't even realize he was doing it. Didn't realize how his whole face lit up, how his voice changed, how he became even more animated than usual.

"Sounds like you really admire him," Akito said carefully.

"I do! He's an incredible director and an even better friend!" Tsukasa turned to look at Akito. "But I have other friends too. Other people I want to spend time with. Like you, Akito."

"We barely know each other."

"Then let's fix that!" Tsukasa said with characteristic enthusiasm. "Tell me about VBS! About your music! What drives you?"

And somehow, despite planning to keep the conversation superficial, Akito found himself talking. About music, about his goals, about the frustration of always trying to prove himself, about the satisfaction of nailing a difficult run or perfecting a harmony.

Tsukasa listened with that same complete attention he'd given Rui earlier, asking questions, making comments, showing genuine interest. And slowly, Akito started to understand why people were drawn to Tsukasa Tenma despite—or maybe because of—his overwhelming personality.

When Tsukasa cared about something, he cared completely. When he focused on someone, they had his full attention. There was no pretense, no hidden agenda. Just genuine enthusiasm and interest.

It was, Akito had to admit, kind of nice.

They talked until Akito actually did need to leave for practice. As they headed back down to the school proper, Tsukasa chattering away about some new show idea, Akito found himself thinking that maybe Tenma wasn't so bad after all.

"Same time next week?" Tsukasa asked as they reached the point where they'd need to split off. "I can show you more of Rui's secret spots! He's got keys to at least three rooms that are supposed to be locked!"

"Isn't that information supposed to be secret?"

"You won't tell anyone," Tsukasa said with complete confidence. "You're trustworthy like that."

Before Akito could respond, Tsukasa was already heading off down the hallway, waving enthusiastically. "See you later, Akito! Good luck at practice! Show them your star quality!"

Akito watched him go, then headed toward the gym, ignoring the small smile on his face.

He didn't notice Rui, standing in a classroom doorway halfway down the hall, having witnessed the entire exchange.

Rui's expression was thoughtful as he watched Akito disappear around the corner. Then he looked in the direction Tsukasa had gone, his smile taking on a quality that was hard to read.

"How interesting," Rui murmured to himself.

Very interesting indeed.