Disclaimer: I only wish Kimeru was mine.
Pairing: Konomi Takeshi x Kimeru. Yes, you read that right. If this scars you, LOOK ELSEWHERE. Tuti/Nagayan is also mentioned.
Warnings: RPS! BL, angst, etc and so forth...
Author's Note: For yomimashou! So blame her for this, not me. XD; I actually really enjoyed writing this, though, so I hope it's an okay read. XD; Because you may be seeing more of Kime in the future.
Kimeru wakes up to the sound of himself on the radio on the morning of June nineteenth, his voice pinched and sweet even over the vague static of the poorly set alarm clock. It's a little jarring, even after all these years, to hear his own disembodied voice when he's not expecting it, but not nearly as much so as when he first got popular enough to be played regularly on the radio. A lot of things have changed since then, the thinks wryly to himself as he yawns and rolls out of bed in search of orange juice, but notices between his bedroom and the kitchen that his cell phone is flashing to alert him of a new email, and abandons his cause to check his messages so quickly it's pathetic.
The message is from who he's hoping it's from, but it's just another excuse, like so many excuses before. sorry i haven't called--been busy. see you tonight. Kimeru snaps his phone shut exasperatedly and throws it aside perhaps a little harder than he ought to, and bites his lip instead of swearing as he immediately collects it and returns it to its place on the kitchen table. It's the same message as yesterday, only sans the short apology for missing his birthday, and Kimeru is forced to close his eyes and take a deep breath before returning on his previous course to the refrigerator. After egg whites, whole wheat toast, and orange juice, he feels quite a great deal better, and resolves to put his good-for-nothing boyfriend out of his mind as he returns to his bedroom to get dressed. He's to meet Nagayan later, the first time in a long while, since the beginning of rehearsals for Every Little Thing and recording sessions for Kimeru, and he's not going to let anything spoil his mood.
He tries very, very hard to pretend that he isn't hoping for his phone to ring as the alarm he neglected to turn off suddenly begins to broadcast Regret across his bedroom.
"It's so humid," Nagayan complains after greeting Kimeru with his traditional hug. "I don't see how you're wearing a hat and a vest even at this time of the year. I'm dying."
Kimeru laughs, and for the moment, he feels entirely content. Sliding his hand into Nagayan's and entangling their fingers, he nods in the direction of the closest Starbucks. "Let's get you into the air-con before you melt, then."
They elbow their way into the crowded cafe, through the throng of hot patrons ordering cold coffees to a secluded table in the corner, joking of taking pictures of themselves with coffee to send to Yanagi to make him envious. "He never has any free time anymore, with that D-Boys thing," Nagayan informs Kimeru ruefully, as if Kimeru wasn't aware. More than anything, it's endearing, Nagayan himself is sweet and adorable and endearing, and Kimeru watches him order his grande caramel mocha skinny frappuccino with whipped cream before purchasing his own bottle of water and following him back to their table. "Health freak," Nagayan accuses, and Kimeru only shrugs, sipping his water and watching Nagayan get whipped cream on his nose and smiling all the while.
They catch up for a while-- "It's terrible when you find out things about your best friend from his blog before you hear it from him!" Nagayan proclaims completely innocently, but Kimeru feels a little guilty anyway. Upon being questioned, Kimeru talks of recording and photoshoots, of upcoming release events and small congratulatory party that is being thrown for him this evening. "I wish I were famous," Nagayan sighs for not the first time, though Kimeru knows that he loves what he does, and the wistfulness completely dissolves from his countenance when Kimeru tells him it's his turn to share.
Though Kimeru has talked about the details of his professional life, he's done it concisely, knowing the length of Nagayan's attention span and not wishing to drag, but when Nagayan speaks, it's so entirely different and wonderful. He's like a small child, consistently going off on tangents and forgetting his original story, telling verbose anecdotes only to forget in which direction he was going and choose another entirely, and Kimeru hangs on his every word, because there's simply something about Nagayan that warms his heart. Nagayan talks of rehearsals and performances, of the time he spends with Moriyama and with his castmates from Every Little Thing. He talks of Blossam and of new ideas for designs, and of photoshoots and auditions and whether or not he'll get his hair cut and the new flavor of Fanta at the konbini by his apartment. He talks of things it would never occur to Kimeru to talk of and things it never occurred to Kimeru to care about, but when Nagayan tells him of them, they're suddenly the most interesting things in the world, simply because it's Nagayan.
But when Nagayan begins on a story of Tsuchiya and how he's to be working on their anniversary and how that makes him a jerk, Kimeru experiences a more violent sting of jealousy than he would ever have thought to expect. Normally, of course he'd side with Nagayan, of course, he be protective on Nagayan's behalf, because really, making Nagayan unhappy was simply unacceptable of any man, but right now, he simply can't get past the fact that he would give just about anything to have that be the most of his problems. It's a sick thing of which to be jealous, and suddenly, Kimeru feels sick, sick and pathetic, and though he tries not to let it show, he has the feeling he's failing.
When the story draws to a conclusion, Nagayan seems to come back to the present in one discrete jolt, and he furrows his brow at Kimeru, leaning over the table to examine his expression. "Is everything okay?" he asks, obviously concerned, and Kimeru forces a smile, nodding quickly. But Nagayan shakes his head, looking uncomfortable before asking, his voice a little lower, "You know... is everything okay... with...?"
"Everything is fine," Kimeru insists, even as he fights to keep his smile from being entirely humourless; he knows Nagayan has never really been comfortable with his relationship, and perhaps Nagayan knows better than he does. But as much as he knows Nagayan would be vindicated to hear the truth, Kimeru doesn't want to worry him, and so he smiles as assuringly as he can and treats Nagayan to another coffee to distract him before he can inquire any further. He doesn't notice Marionette come on the radio as he makes his way back towards the counter to make his purchase.
Kimeru has never been one to do things half-way, and so, though the party tonight is only supposed to be a small get-together, hosted by his manager with a bit of food and champagne to congratulate him on the completion of another album, Kimeru begins to prepare an hour in advance, fixing his hair, his clothing, his makeup to be nothing less than perfect. Tonight, though, nothing seems to be cooperating, because he reapplies his makeup, fingers his bangs, adjusts his hat over and over again, and yet he isn't pleased with the way he looks, no matter how many times he tries and readjusts.
He's always been told he's pretty and he knows it to be true, but as he stares tiredly at himself in the mirror, he wonders if he's getting old. It feels like forever since he recorded his first single, the single that put him into business. He's mature enough now to know that if he hadn't been fortunate enough to do the theme for such a popular anime, he likely would have had a much rougher start, but it's a sore point, and though he doesn't really want to remember at the moment, he does. He was young and naive at the time, twenty-one, when they first met, and all he can remember is being grateful and impressed that this man had created something so popular, and though maybe he was a little strange-- eccentric, Kimeru remembers thinking, there was something mysterious, something enigmatic about him that drew Kimeru in, made him want to know more...
He wonders bitterly if that's how the American feels. After all, he's young, just like Kimeru was, he's just getting into the business. He wonders if the American-- Crawford, is that his surname?-- appreciates what he has, because unfaithful jackass or not, there is no question that Konomi is an artistic genius. Kimeru hates himself for being so wrapped up, even now, and he tries to even his complexion with more makeup. He's been this path dozens of times, now, but it's like a whirlpool, an abyss, and he can't pull back now. He wonders what Konomi sees in Crawford that he doesn't see in Kimeru-- it certainly can't be looks; Kimeru doesn't like to think he's vain, but those mixed features are really nothing to write home about. But, in recent months, Konomi's been more and more fixated on the production of the musicals, especially since the manga's been finished, and though Kimeru would like to point out that, he, too, took part in that branch of the franchise, he knows that it's no use, because that was long ago, and whatever catches Konomi's fancy will be his momentary whim. And so Kimeru can only hope that this, too, is momentary, only a passing whim...
He realizes, with a start, that his eyes are tearing up, and dabs at them quickly with a tissue, leaning in close to the mirror, careful not to smear his eyeliner. The dulcet tones of Sono Mama Danger Night drift into the bathroom from his radio clock to inform him that it's time to head out for the evening.
This party, Kimeru knows, was a very thoughtful attempt on the part of manager, but it's long and slow and he really wishes they didn't feel the need to play only his music in the background. He also doesn't think it's necessary for every member of his production team to corner him and congratulate him and ask him how he feels and what he plans to do next and how Pippin rehearsals are coming and if he intends to do more stage shows or stick with recording in the future. Of course, he's very polite about it all, but half the time, his mind isn't even on the conversation but on the absence of the man who promised he'd make an appearance more than half an hour ago. As soon as he thanks the most recent lyricist for her hard work and breaks free for a moment of solitude, he checks his phone, but there are no new messages, even when he flips it shut and checks again, just for good measure. He's pathetic and he knows it, and he can't even bring himself to pretend to be surprised that he's being blown off again, but he wishes just for a moment that he wasn't too strong to cry in public.
"You look lonely," Rolly comments as he sidles up beside him and presses another glass of champagne into his hand, "No guest to come along?"
Kimeru laughs and shakes his head. "Just tired. Takashi was busy tonight."
Rolly nods, seeming to think on it for a moment. "Why don't you come out, then? Get away from all these boring people, huh?" He grins and offers Kimeru a hand, but he smiles politely and shakes his head. "Sorry, Pippin rehearsal in the morning."
He studies Kimeru for a moment but doesn't question, nodding as if he understands. "Go get some rest, then," he bids him, "Can't let the fans see you with that long face, right?"
He laughs tiredly and nods, but ends up waiting by the door getting far drunker than he ought to, holding onto the pitiful, stupid hope that maybe Konomi is simply running late as Koishite Kimeru mocks him from the stereo system in the next room.
Kimeru wakes up to the sound of himself on the radio on the morning of June twentieth, his voice pinched and sweet even over the vague static of the poorly set alarm clock. It's a little jarring, and his head throbs painfully as he comes into consciousness. Slowly, he remembers last night, slowly, he realizes that he has to drag himself out of bed for rehearsal in a couple hours. Feeling absolutely miserable and kicking himself for being so stupid, he drags himself out of bed in search of orange juice, but notices between his bedroom and the kitchen that his cell phone is flashing to alert him of a new email, and abandons his cause to check his messages so quickly it's pathetic.
The bright light of the LED screen causes his head to throb particularly painfully, but he barely notices when he sees who the message is from. He holds his breath, even though he knows even before he opens it that it's just another excuse. sorry i missed last night--got caught up in something. i'll call later. Kimeru snaps his phone shut bitterly and throws it aside perhaps a little harder than he ought to before finally crumbling into tears, and the sound is only more pathetic, more lonely in the otherwise silence of the apartment.