"Stage crew? Seriously?" Sakura says incredulously. "Is that her idea of being your 'angel?'"
They're hanging out in the back of the library, where the irritable librarian can't shush them, and pretending to do work, books lying forgotten in their laps, ballpoint pens twirling between fingers and beating against armrests.
"I really don't know." Hori heaves a sigh. "I mean, I did it in high school a bit, and it was okay. Just painting, building a few sets, lugging some stuff around, so on and so forth. Got a couple of art credits for my trouble, too. Maybe this is her way of telling me to get off my ass and stop feeling sorry for myself?"
"You don't need her to tell you that," she admonishes.
"Not when you remind me every other minute, I don't," he says wearily. "Anyways, might as well humor her, you know? She told me some pretty personal shit yesterday. Who knows, something good might come out of it."
"You're being uncharacteristically optimistic," Sakura notes coyly. "A change of heart, perhaps?"
"And you're being uncharacteristically nosy," Hori retorts. "Speaking of optimism, or lack thereof, how's the Nozaki situation?"
"He invited me over last weekend for lunch, and I thought he'd actually caught on to something, but it turns out he'd just made too much food and needed someone to finish it." She heaves a sigh, before brightening. "But hey, I got to help him with his manga and everything, and he tried to help me come up with ideas for my project, which didn't go so well, but what can you do?"
"No lingerie, then?" he says slyly, dodging the punch to the jugular.
"Oh, shut it, you," Sakura grumbles.
"Alright, alright. What's this mysterious project you keep on mentioning, then?" He changes the subject, hoping to lighten the mood. It has the exactly the opposite effect, however; she seems to wilt before his very eyes. "Hey, what's up?"
"Oh, nothing!" A note of hysteria enters her voice. "Just that I can't think of a single goddamn idea for my project, which, might I add, is worth half of the semester." She faceplants into the table, letting out a piteous whimper. "Hori, what am I gonna do? If I fail this project, I'll end up flunking out, and if I flunk out, my parents will-"
"Cut you off? Yeah, I get it," Hori says bitterly.
"I mean, they've always been more supportive than your parents, but they're not, you know, delighted about it. They've never exactly approved of it, and if I flunk out, they'll think I'm irresponsible and 'not cut out for it' and passive-aggressively leave brochures for law school outside my door, and oh God, Hori, I'm gonna die."
"Hold up," he says cautiously. "When exactly is this due?"
Sakura sniffles. "Week after my birthday."
Of course, he should've known.
Hori claps a hand to his forehead, huffing in exasperation. "Sakura, you're overreacting. That's three weeks. In other words, plenty of time."
"But you don't understand, Hori!" she shrieks. "Fuck, I don't even know what I'm doing."
He lets out a derisive snort. "Welcome to college."
3:00, backstage.
Clutching the Post-It note, he tentatively creaks open the door to the auditorium. Milling around the stage are about a dozen students, measuring out planks of wood, organizing paints, or labeling pieces of tape. A screw gun whirs noisily in the background, everyone shouting to be overheard over the din.
Kashima's sitting at the very edge, kicking her legs back and forth and chatting genially with a senior girl. When she notices him, she immediately waves him over, her eyes lighting up. "Senpai, you made it!"
He does his best to hide his flush. "Um, yeah."
Kashima turns to the girl next to her. "Mitsu-chan, meet Hori-senpai. Senpai, meet Mitsu-chan!"
"Hanako Mitsuzuri." She grins at him, holding out a calloused palm. Mitsuzuri's tall and tanned, long brown hair braided down her back; she smells vaguely of wood shavings and the fruity perfume he'd once bought Sakura for her fifteenth birthday. "Fresh meat, huh? Well, we're glad to have you!"
"Mitsu-chan's the stage manager!" Kashima pipes up. "She's been running stage crew for the past two years, and she's just amazing!"
"Oh, stop it, Yuu. You're making me blush," Mitsuzuri laughs, batting her playfully on the arm. "Well, Hori? Got anything in mind?"
"Not particularly. Wherever I'm useful, I suppose," he replies.
"I'll give you the grand tour, then!" She loops her arm around his and marches him onto the stage, Kashima trailing behind them. "Here we do the dirty work- cutting, screwing, set-building, the works. Pretty much everyone's gotta pitch in a bit, but besides that, there are tons of specialized jobs. Light and sound op are holed up in that little booth up there, talking about fresnels and mics or whatever. Costume and props are probably hiding away somewhere; our little prince has to go over there to get fitted in a little while." Mitsuzuri throws a pointed look at Kashima, who makes a face. "And of course, there's the running crew. They're the people who man the curtains and push the sets around and manage the props come show time.
"And, might I add, " she adds wryly, lips curling into a smirk, "spend the most time with our actors. Kind of the most crucial part of operations."
Hori wonders how he wound up here. Just three years ago, he'd been a high schooler with just a couple secondary roles under his belt, writing his Oscar acceptance speech in the margins of his chem notebook and dreaming of the big break that would never come.
But now, he's a reject.
Is this quitting? Is this giving up?
But in the end, he decides, that's probably not the most important thing.
"That sounds fine," Hori manages.
"Running crew, it is." Mitsuzuri beams, clapping him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the team!"
"Was it at least tolerable?" Sakura asks, en route to their club meeting.
Hori shrugs. "It's really not that bad. The stage manager girl is pretty nice, and I don't know, it's just...comfortable. Everyone's just fooling around, really. You'd be surprised about how many dirty jokes they can make about screw guns."
He notices her giggling behind her hand, and scowls at her. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing! It's just that...it's been a while since I've seen you enjoy something so much," Sakura says fondly.
"Don't be ridiculous," Hori grumbles.
"It's a good thing, I swear!" she protests. "Kashima isn't bad as you first thought she was, huh?"
"Yeah, she's alright," he says, trying to sound as flippant as possible. From the way she quirks her eyebrow, however, he doubts she's fallen for it.
Sakura smirks, poking him on the shoulder. "Told ya so."
Hori rolls his eyes, shoving her away. "What are you, a fifth-grader?" Blocking out her snickers, he holds his head up high and marches primly into the classroom, depositing his bag in his usual seat.
Mikoshiba's already inside, rifling through his manga as usual, and Seo's slouching in the corner, glowering at anyone who dares to give her more than a passing glance.
Kashima tumbles in soon afterwards, rosy pink and pleasantly windswept, and makes a beeline for him. Determinedly ignoring Sakura, who's giggling and slinking away from him, he gives her a nonchalant wave, resting his elbows against the table. "Hey. What's up?"
"Hi," she says breathlessly. "Mind dropping by my place later? We're doing a really hard scene, and I could really use your-"
"So glad to see you all getting along!" Miyako chirps, poking her head into the classroom. She steps inside and glances at her watch. "The others should be here in a moment. Just wait till you hear the activity I've planned for today!"
Lord help me, Hori thinks.
Nozaki shuffles in barely ten seconds later, aloof, and Sakura immediately flushes pink, squeaking out a barely audible hello. Wakamatsu anxiously teeters in just moments later, scooting to the very edge of his seat.
"Excellent, we're all here!" Miyako claps her hands together. "So, now that you and your partners have gotten to know each other a little, I thought that we'd try out some trust falls, really push it to the next level. How does that sound?"
Great. Just fucking great.
Sakura whimpers, burying her face in her hands. The sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor fills the air as everyone grudgingly eases to their feet, grumbling under their breaths. Mikoshiba looks utterly petrified when Miyako smiles encouragingly and beckons him over, while Wakamatsu only looks horrified.
"How the fuck is he supposed to catch you?" Hori hisses, gesturing at Nozaki. "He's practically twice your size!"
"This may or may not be the greatest day of my life," she whispers, trembling. "So romantic!"
He smacks a hand to his forehead. "Forget it. You're a lost cause."
"Well, shall we get started?" Kashima says brightly, leaning against the table. "You first?"
"Let's just get this over with." Hori heaves a sigh, turning his back to her. He imagines her palms outstretched, feels the nothingness between them. Trust's always been difficult for him; he can practically feel the swooping of his chest and the thunk of his head against the floor, the crunch of bone.
Calm down, he orders himself. It's just a fall, remember?
She'll catch me.
But how can he be so confident in that, like he knows her?
"Don't be scared, okay?" she murmurs. "I've got you. I've got you."
"Everyone ready?" Miyako asks. "On your mark, get set, fall!"
Hori takes a deep breath and wills himself to fall. Panic floods his system as he tips farther and farther back, gripping his slacks so tightly his knuckles turn white, and oh God, this was a bad, bad idea-
Then everything stops, and there are two hands resting against his back and a warm weight behind him.
"Told you I'd catch you," she says wryly, her breath tickling his neck, "my princess."
He utterly fails to stop the heat from rising to his face, shoving her off of him and scrambling to his feet. "Never call me that again."
Kashima giggles. "Oh, you're just too cute."
Hori can't even dignify that with a response. He forces himself to redirect his attention to Sakura, who seems to be melting right into Nozaki's beefy arms, and Mikoshiba, who looks like he's on the verge of cardiac arrest.
"Everyone finished? Okay, switch!" Miyako shouts to be heard over the din.
Kashima winks at him. "Don't drop me, 'kay?"
He snorts, readying his hands. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Hey, hey, Nozaki-kun!" Sakura cries out. "Hold on, just give me a-"
Oblivious, Nozaki falls backwards, and she yelps, leaping away to avoid him as he comes crashing down, toppling over a nearby chair and careening closer and closer until all Hori can see is a shadow looming over him before-
Crunch.
Well, fuck, he thinks, before passing out.
When Hori wakes up, there's a stickiness on his tongue and a dull ache in his head, and for some odd reason, he's laying in a hospital bed, cushioned by pillows and wearing an itchy blue gown.
Wait, hospital?
Only then does it hit him.
Oh, right. Nozaki falling, excruciating pain. Yep.
"Oh, thank God you're awake," he hears someone sigh. "Took you long enough, Sleeping Beauty."
He turns to his side, nearly jumping out of his skin when he sees it's Kashima, hair disheveled and script propped in her lap, sitting on a stool besides him, looking so relieved he isn't sure how to react.
"What is it?" Hori manages to croak.
"Rib fracture," she tells him. "It's nothing major, but you're gonna have to stay here the night. Should heal up in a few weeks, according to the doctor. You're on a ton of painkillers, though."
"Just fucking great." He groans, before pausing. "Wait, what are you doing here?"
Kashima shrugs. "Someone's gotta look after you, right?"
"But Sakura-"
"She stayed with you a couple hours, but she had to leave for class, so I took over," Kashima says. "Wanna call her? She's super worried, you know."
"No, no, it's fine. I can do that later," Hori says hurriedly. "But really, you didn't have to. Don't you have rehearsal to go to or whatever?"
"Oh, it's nothing. I can skip every once in a while, right?" she laughs, waving a dismissive hand. "Celebrity privileges and all."
"But you're the lead." He gapes at her, incredulous.
"And you're my friend," she counters. "It's nothing, honest. I'm your angel, right?"
Friend. Angel.
They may as well be words from another language.
"I guess." Hori leans back into his pillow, gazes up glumly at the immaculate white ceiling. "Hey, how long was I out?"
"About four hours," she says, tilting her head to the side. "Why?"
"Four hours?" he gasps, snatching her wrist and pulling it towards him, eyes hungrily searching the face of her watch. "No way, 7:45? Shit, shit, I'm gonna be late for my shift!" He tries to sit up, but Kashima's on him before long, pinning his arms to either side of the bed.
"No getting up for you. Doctor's orders, remember?" she chastises him.
"Fuck him!" Hori hisses, batting at her arms. "I have to go!"
Kashima raises an eyebrow at him. "What's the big deal? It's just a shift, right? You can miss one every once in a-"
"I'm about to get evicted, okay?" he finally spits out.
She freezes. "...what?"
"I've been behind on rent for the past three months, and if I don't get caught up soon, it's over for me," he says. "Why else you do you think I've been taking all those extra shifts? For fun?" When she doesn't respond, he shoves her arms off of him and swings his legs to one side of the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll-"
Searing pain erupts in his left side, and he grunts, falling back onto the bed and clutching at his chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Crap, the painkillers are wearing off. I'll go get the doctor." Kashima leaps to her feet and walks briskly to the door, hesitating just before she leaves. "And...don't worry about your apartment. I think I have an idea."
"Oh my God, are you okay?" Sakura blubbers into the phone, panicked. "Does it still hurt? Are you on medication?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," Hori says. "Calm down, Sakura. Really, it's fine."
"No, no, it's not!" she frets, a note of hysteria entering her voice. "It's all my fault- if I hadn't jumped away he wouldn't have-"
He rolls his eyes. "Give me a break. He would've flattened you like a fucking pancake, munchkin."
"Would not!"
"Would too!"
"Okay, okay, fine, we sound like five-year-olds," Sakura laughs. "But seriously. We were all super worried, you know! Kashima, especially. God, you should have seen her. White as a sheet. I think she was trying to keep her cool, but deep down, she was even more scared than I was. And that's saying something."
"Yeah, I can imagine."
"You're not mad, are you?" she says tentatively.
Hori frowns. "Where did that come from?"
"You know, since I left and everything." He can practically see her wringing out her hands, forehead crinkled, eyes as wide as saucers. "You were lying there unconscious, and I was worried about my goddamn art project. God, how shitty am I? And I'm supposed to be your best friend."
"Don't worry about it," he tries to reassure her. "I would've done the same thing."
"No, you wouldn't! I know you, Hori. Remember high school? Remember what you did back then?" Her voice hardens. "Because that is not what happened when I-"
"We don't talk about that." He stiffens, his throat constricting.
"Well, someday we're gonna have to fucking talk about it! You think this isn't hard for me too?" she hisses. "Of course, classic Masayuki Hori. Always running away, never listening. Well, grow the fuck up!"
"Stop," he says thickly. "Stop. I don't want to fight. Not today."
They lapse into tense silence.
"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "That was a shitty thing to say."
"Yeah," he mumbles.
"I love you. Oh God, I love you," Sakura sobs.
"Me too." Hori cradles the phone in his arms, pictures tears rolling down her cheeks, red-rimmed eyes and her fingers splayed across the warmth of her phone screen.
"Kashima's a really good person, you know," she blurts. "Take care of her, okay?"
He nods, and even though she can't possibly seen him, he knows she knows, just like she always has.
"Sleep tight," she chokes out, before hanging up.
Hori's hobbling out of the hospital the next day at about noon, full of bland rice porridge and prescription painkillers, when his phone pings with a text. It's from Sakura, of course, with three happy cat emojis. discharged yet?
yeah, just now, he texts back.
His phone blares obnoxiously loudly, and he hurries to pick it up. "Hey, what's up?"
"Oh, nothing," she says, much too quickly. "Anyways, are you on your way home now?"
He glances at the time on his phone. "Um, no. Don't we have a shift about now?"
"Didn't you hear? Boss gave us the day off," she shoots back, impatient.
Hori gapes at the screen. "What, no way!"
"Yes way. Are you coming or not? I'm already here."
"Wait, you're inside my apartment?"
Cue the delicate pause. "...maybe."
He smacks a hand to his forehead. "Sakura! How did you even get in?"
"Isn't it obvious? Spare key under the doormat."
"How do you even know about that?"
She pauses. "I have my ways."
"Unbelievable," he huffs under his breath. "Should I be worried?"
"Not particularly," Sakura replies offhandedly. "Just get your ass over here before I drag you back myself."
"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Hori grumbles, pressing the end-call button. "Women."
A fifteen minute walk, and he's back at the dingy apartment he's never thought of as home. Genuinely terrified, he takes a moment to steel himself before knocking on the door. "Sakura, you in there?"
When he's met with silence, he only sighs, kicking open the door. "Well, I'm coming-"
"Surprise!" Sakura shouts, blowing a confetti cannon in his face.
Hori can only gape as the colorful little pieces of paper land in his hair. "What in the world…?"
Everyone in the club is standing in his kitchen, bedecked in flimsy party hats and brandishing party poppers. The living room's been completely transformed, balloons tied to the armrests of his couch, streamers and paper lanterns and a sign reading "Welcome Back!" in block letters sloppily taped to the wall.
Sakura bounds up to him and tackles him to the floor in a bear hug. "Took you long enough, dummy!"
Hori grunts. "Fractured rib, remember?"
"Oh, right, sorry," she says sheepishly, crawling off of him. "Anyways, what do you think?"
"It's...um, wow. I don't know what to say. I mean, it was just one night," he confesses. "Thanks, Sakura."
She cocks her head to the side. "What are you thanking me for? It was all Kashima's idea!"
"Kashima?" He peeks into the kitchen, feels the breath catch in his throat when he sees her laughing with everyone else, her eyes lighting up when they land on him.
"She's been up all night baking, just for this. She really is amazing, you know. All of this just for an idiot like you!" Sakura shakes her head, heaving a sigh. "Geez, why does she even bother?"
Hori swats at her playfully, and she grins, ducking out from under his arm.
"Hey, play nice," she laughs, easing to her feet and holding out her hand to him. "Care to catch up with your guests?"
"Um, yeah, sure," he says, lets her pull him back to his feet.
"Hey, relax," Sakura says wryly, leaning in to whisper, "you'll get to see your darling Kashima in no time." Smirking, she tugs him over to everyone else, leaning over to a nearby cooler and shoving a ginger ale into his hands.
"No beer?"
"Don't be stingy."
He sighs, popping it open, and steps into the kitchen, where everyone's milling around, snacking on little brownies and cupcakes and making idle conversation. Everyone falls to a hush when he walks in.
Miyako rushes up to him first, grasping both of his hands in hers. "Oh, Hori, you gave us such a fright! We're so glad you're alright."
"Ah, the royal 'we'," Seo grumbles, to no one in particular.
Fortunately for him, everyone chooses to ignore her.
"Oh, it wasn't a big deal," he mumbles.
"Don't say that!" Wakamatsu blurts- the first complete sentence he's ever spoken to Hori. "I was totally petrified!"
"Yeah, like always," Seo deadpans, causing him to blush, fisting his hands in his sweater.
"Of course," Mikoshiba pipes up, surprising everyone, "if I'd been there to treat him, he would've been cured instantly with my dazzling smile." Before anyone even has the chance to send him a bewildered look, he's already retreated back into his corner, red as a tomato and mumbling incoherently under his breath.
"Um, speaking of that, Nozaki-kun has something for you!" Miyako says hurriedly, managing a disarming smile.
Sakura smiles, giving him a nudge in the ribs. Obediently shuffling forward, Nozaki hands him a slip of paper. Upon closer inspection, it reads "Free Manga" in his trademark scrawl- completely underwhelming, Hori thinks.
"I take requests," Nozaki adds.
"Um, thanks," Hori manages, pocketing the paper.
She elbows him again, and he clears his throat. "I apologize for crushing you," he says solemnly, before abruptly falling to his knees, banging his fists against the floor in despair. "If only I'd been born a slender bishounen!"
Sakura looks as though she'd like nothing more than to evaporate on the spot.
"I know he means well," he says quickly.
Kashima shoves her way to the front of the crowd, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, are you guys just gonna steal him away from me?" She and Sakura seem to come to some sort of understanding entirely through eye contact, and before long, she's pulling him out of the room and to the space just in front of his bedroom. "I have something to show you," she explains when he shoots her a puzzled look.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a halved piece of paper. Eviction Notice, it reads.
He can only gaze in awe. "Is this-?"
She nods. "Your rent's covered till next month."
He shakes his head adamantly, shoving it back into her hands. "Kashima, you know I can't accept this. I won't be able to-"
Kashima closes his palm back over it. "Too late. It's already been paid."
"Unbelievable," he huffs for the second time that day. "Fucking unbelievable. Why would you do this for me?"
"Haven't I already said? It's 'cause I care, senpai." She gives his hand a squeeze, smiling sadly. "And besides, you can just pay me back when you're a world-famous actor. Think of it as an investment."
"You are such an idiot," he mumbles. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber."
"Looks like I proved you wrong." She grins, holding out her hand to shake. "Well, senpai?"
Hori ignores her hand, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "Thank you," he breathes. She stiffens at first, but soon relaxes, hugging him back.
"Think we can stay like this a little while?" he asks, muffled in her shoulder.
"Of course," she murmurs. "Always."