A/N: Hi all! Been a long time since I posted a No. 6 fic. And this one has been percolating for a while, so I thought I might let it out to breathe a bit. Let me know what you think of this prologue, okay? Okay. Deal.
As end credits roll to the march of an epic original score, Shion is quite pleased. He adores romance and adventure movies. The grand tale he's just seen— that of a researcher who succeeds at achieving eternal youth, only to suffer the pain of endlessly doomed love affairs until she's found the right one person with whom to share her immortality— is no exception. It was Shion's fifth time watching, yet he still enjoyed it almost as much as the first. What pleases him most at the moment, however, is that Nezumi appears to have been asleep the entire time. Seated side-by-side like this, it's quite a feat for Shion to be able to watch a "date movie," as Nezumi would call it, and get away without being subjected to endless ridicule. Never mind that Nezumi happened to have played a major supporting role in this particular picture— filmed on location near No. 3 not long before his return to Shion's side— he'd still snicker at Shion for tearing up during the tragic, heartbreaking, and bittersweet moments. Or worse, he'd catch Shion unconsciously mouthing lines in unison with on-screen Nezumi.
On these occasions, Nezumi would unfailingly crack up and then proceed to not leave well alone for the rest of the day, for fear Shion was not adequately aware of the precise sort of Ed Wood-reminiscent rapt expression he happened to be wearing at the time. Then would come the obligatory segue into a self-indulgent mini-rant about how acting work just isn't as satisfying when you're robbed of the connection with a live audience— feeding off their energy, feeling the the rush, enjoying instantaneous praise, and not to mention, the gift baskets and flower bouquets… with bonbons. Shion, having heard it all before, would tune the rest out to an inner montage of Nezumi Theatre Moments.
Nezumi's most delicate, faintly intoned murmurs carry effortlessly upward to Shion's ears as he nervously paces the second balcony at the first full dress rehearsal. At some point he'll stop moving. Sweaty palms will grip cool, soothing brass and he'll crane forward over the shiny handrail…
Nezumi's tiniest movements are just as refined; graceful yet so very natural, either with or without theatre binoculars. Shion confirms this from his comped loge seat on opening night, where he'll occasionally beam giddily at his mother, or Rikiga, or whichever friend or associate he's invited along that day…
Nezumi is resplendent under a plain ungelled spotlight as Shion watches from the wings on closing night. He tingles with excitement, eagerly anticipating his and Nezumi's own private post-cast party celebration to come, and the very physical ways in which he'll congratulate his partner on a job well done.
Just before curtain call, an amused Nezumi joins him offstage, shaking his head in faux-exasperation; 'What are you imagining now, Shion?' and Shion's reply comes in a lustful near-whisper: 'You're right, Nezumi. It's so much more exciting to see you on stage than on screen.' Then, with a single sultry look, Nezumi will recast Shion for a certain exclusive recurring role he's always, always thrilled to play…
The young woman in the aisle seat and the two people occupying the three seats across the aisle appear to be asleep as well. There's a good chance there were no witnesses at all. Shion closes his eyes and breathes a tiny sigh of relief at this fortuitous situation. A small smile graces his lips, as though he's gotten away with something naughty. The perfect crime, he muses.
Abruptly, the orchestral soundtrack in Shion's ears is cut off. He opens his eyes again to find the credits have been replaced with a dull white-on-blue screen displaying flight progress and a weather report. The head cabin attendant is pleased to announce over the PA system (and all in-flight entertainment channels) that the flight is proceeding exceedingly well, so they will be landing at No. 2 International Airport ahead of schedule, and it looks like the weather will be quite balmy.
Date and time at destination:
Friday September 1, 2021; 10:16:41 (2ST)
Current ETA: 37 minutes (early)
Current Conditions:
29º C. Sunny and clear, Wind S, 2 km/h
Humidity 48%, Dew Point 17º C
After adjusting his watch, Shion removes the headset and begins raising the shade over the window just a little at a time, ensuring no one nearby is disturbed by intruding sunlight. Through the window, he can see long-scorched and deadened terrain beginning to show signs of life in the form of small and scarce, yet nevertheless blossoming clusters of green, near a large natural lake. He supposes bodies of freshwater are perhaps being gradually purified by evolved saprophytes and new epiphytes. Earlier No. 6, at the height of its artifice, would not have allowed such organisms to exist at all.
Shion smiles, marveling at nature's gift of undying hope.
He is excited to be able to see No. 2 for the first time. A precious first experience for him— travelling for pleasure rather than purely for work. Nezumi suggested their destination and voiced vague and noncommittal suggestions of 'stuff' he'd like to see Shion 'try,' and that might be enjoyable to do as a pair. Shion made the specific travel arrangements, putting in such intense and exhaustive (but enthusiastic) research, Nezumi laughingly called it overkill; 'At this rate, you'll know the place so well I'll be able to learn more about it from you than I did by going there.'
Nezumi's one travel stipulation was that they never fly first or business class. Much to his agent's chagrin, the one time he was convinced to fly a certain airline's "diamond elite" class, Eve barely lasted an hour before demanding a downgrade. An act completely unheard of— especially on an eleven hour flight— it was a huge embarrassment for that major carrier. Shion shared in the fallout, overhearing Nezumi's bald assurances over the phone to worried producers and his scandalized agent that he was simply unimpressed with the persons who deemed themselves elite enough to be seated there, and that the service was 'quite alright' but that he'd have 'none of it.' No one knew better than Shion why Nezumi hated the nature of such variant "classes" — prestige and pampering; winking, simpering cabin attendants; all reserved only for the few seated at the front. The parade of furtive, covetous glances from economy class petit bourgeois (almost proletarian in comparison) as they shuffle miserably by to reach their cramped seats at the back. All the perks and added amenities; all the privilege and passive acceptance of hierarchy hearkened back to unpleasant memories, which threatened to awaken dormant destructive impulses—
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"Ah!" Shion turns away from the window to face the source of the murmur at his side. Sleepy grey eyes and a tired smile greet him, and Nezumi remains as captivating as ever. Shion smiles back fondly and waits politely for the other to finish yawning. "Well—"
"Oh, but with that genius brain of yours, mere pennies won't cut it, will they?" Nezumi half-yawns his words, stretching his arms.
He would hate it if Shion told him how cute he looked and sounded, just then. On the other hand he'd probably also do it more often, contradictory guy that he is.
Instead, Shion catches an outstretched arm, entwines their fingers, and brings their joined hands to Nezumi's ear, where begins to trail his own knuckles down the actor's jawline. "I'm sure whatever you were dreaming is far more interesting."
"Mmm… this is familiar…" Nezumi mumbles, completing the arc their hands began and kissing the fingers Shion has interlaced with his own.
A little girl's voice perks up from between the headrests behind the young men's heads; "Mommy, they're kissing hands, just like in that movie! Did you like the movie, Mister?"
It suddenly occurs to Shion that he needs to use the restroom. Urgently.