A/N: Happy Monday morning to all! Hope you have a wonderful day!
Like Old Times
Sho ran his fingers down the neck of the guitar, pads pressing one-two-three quick chord changes over and over, drilling in the muscle memory. It was mindless and productive and calming, just him and the music. He could drift with it, letting it carry him, caress him; a weightless reminder of his place.
His phone buzzed an alert and the smile that had dawned over his features flickered out. He closed his eyes and forced it to reappear, slightly more brittle this time despite his efforts. He lay the guitar tenderly in her case, sliding off the bed to
shrug a shirt over his shoulders, avoiding looking in the bathroom mirror as he washed his face. The fluorescent light was unkind, making the bruises he had more brown than purple, fading too quickly.
He had a show to put on tonight, and he refused to be afraid.
"Afraid…" Sho watched his face in the mirror as he said the word. It didn't suit him. "I don't have shit to be afraid of." He ripped open his shirt, forcing his eyes to study every single fading mark. A long exhale brought one hand up to trace over the darkest, a welt just under his collarbone. Sho licked his lips, forcing a short laugh out. "What's the beagle going to do, eat me?"
He ran his hands through his hair, buttoning his shirt back up. It wasn't the threat of physical harm that rattled him. He could laugh off some bruises. He could make his own bruises.
But standing there, pinned, someone else rifling through his memories, using him and throwing him aside— that was terrifying. He rubbed his neck, twisting his head against the invasive thoughts creeping into anxiety like vines of poison ivy. He had to find a way to at least protect Kyoko. If he couldn't be there for her now, he'd never be able to stand before her again.
Work deadlines forced him out— tonight was a late night talk show with a live show at the end. The host was a rapid-fire comedian; his vibe reminded Sho of Yappa Kimugure Rock and the insane chicken. The memory brought a genuine smile to Sho's face. He'd really enjoyed thrashing that chicken.
"So, how's NYC compared to Tokyo? Worlds apart?" The host gave Sho a beat to nod before continuing. "I see you've already met our ladies," he said, leering cheekily at Sho's collar line.
"Ah," Sho said, forcing himself to nod and smile mischievously. "Yes, very nice ladies. Some, though, are biters."
The host gave a guffaw and held up Sho's previous album. "Maybe they got confused and thought the name of your last album was a self-description."
Sho laughed, reaching out to take the album. "Chocolate was a blast to record. A friend helped with the planning, and another with the music video. Truly a group effort."
"Oh yes, Miss Kyoko starred in your video. We hadn't heard you were friends, though!"
"Well," Sho paused, an inner debate raging on just how much to reveal. "This was our second collaboration. She's a very good actress."
"I'll say; even half an ocean and a whole language away we were wooed by the connection between you two. Speaking of language…" The host turned toward the audience, his arms opening wide. "Sho has been working on the English renditions from his latest album, Undead, that will have simultaneous releases in Japan and the US. Would you all like to hear him play his favorite song from the album?"
The crowd roared. Sho hid his face, pretending to cover a blush. It felt damn good. This was where he belonged — this was where he drew power. A few fans in the front row had come prepared with "I LOVE FUWA" signs done in glitter. The host started clapping, gesturing for him to step over to the side stage. Sho stood gracefully, sloughing off his long jacket to screams of the fangirls before striding over to grab the microphone. A glitter sign from backstage caught his eye just before he started— Shoko was grinning and holding a hot pink "FO SHO" sign with Reino standing right beside her. His small lazy wave sent shivers through Sho. The microphone had suddenly become a life preserver, the cold metal reminder of who he was and what he could do. He closed his eyes, willing himself to shut him out.
Out here, he couldn't be touched.
Out here, he was the god.
The drumbeat began; a chaotic hush fell over the crowd, the front rows still pulsing with excitement. He pressed the mic against his chin, the metal curves biting into his flesh with the only lover's bite he needed. When he opened his eyes it would be just him and the crowd, making love to one another through music.
The guitar solo throbbed in the darkened room. A woman screamed; he tilted his face toward her voice and started to sing.
The production team had loved his "genuine personality" and "rockstar stage presence." A "unique and heady" combination, according to the E! Online write-up on his performance. Shoko burst into his provided dressing room already reading the excerpts for him. Unfocused, he stared at the hallway behind her, waiting.
Empty.
He felt a weight lift and turned to listen to Shoko spouting the reporter's adulation. She'd even included the bit about the kiss mark, throwing out a few rumors on who the lucky lady could be. Shoko sat down her phone after the article, circling around to stand behind Sho and watch him in the mirror, her eyes animated.
"You're doing it," she said. "You're making this happen."
Sho just shrugged. He was still ticked at her about Reino.
"One step at a time," she continued, her hand tracing a line out. "And we are going to get that world tour. Next step: music video." She tapped the back of his chair in excitement. "I have a fantastic twist."
Sho arched a brow. This ought to be rich. "Go on, I'm listening."
"The song— it's about struggle, wrong versus right, you versus your own mind. What if we made it more literal and had someone costar with you?" She rubbed his shoulder gently as if trying to ease away the skeptic look on his face. "Someone who used to be your rival but who you defeated so thoroughly they completely left the music scene." She grinned, excitement pouring off her, lashing against the cold spreading through Sho's body. "And he's already said yes!"
"No," Sho said. "I refuse."
"Don't be a sissy. You said no more Kyoko, and that's fine. This though is a fantastic idea! Your fans back home will eat it up, it'll be another strike to his fan base, pulling them into yours, and even here where they don't know the backstory— he's handsome, you're handsome it'll sell like takoyaki."
Sho spun in his chair, swiping her hand away. "I said no."
She crossed her arms, frowning at him. "I am not letting one of your tantrums ruin this P.R. opportunity."
"Tantrum? You think this is a tantrum! Shoko, I refuse—"
"It's already been signed off on. The label loves it. You're doing this." She picked up her phone, holding it up at him like the appointment inside had some sort of binding power. "Filming is in two days."
She spun on her heel and left, opening her phone to make seemingly urgent calls and block out his remaining protests.
A quiet knock on the paneling around his dressing room door stirred him out of his thoughts. He didn't know how long he'd sat there with his head in his hands, trying to figure out a way around the film. Long enough for him to have two red spots on his temples from the pressure of his palms. A studio employee stood in his doorframe, face clearly displaying a tired desire to go home.
"Mr. Fuwa, are you perhaps ready to leave? I— we would like to close up soon. If it's not a problem."
Sho glanced at the clock. 2 a.m.
"Sorry, sorry. Just working on some lyrics. Big filming set tomorrow. Do you think I could…" He put on his best smile, bowing slightly in the way that really threw Westerners for a loop. They never knew quite how to respond when someone bowed.
"Ah, well, I wouldn't be able to stay—"
"No, no," Sho shook his head in what he hoped came across as humble negation. "I can let myself out. There's a night guard?"
"Mmm," the employee nodded. "I'll just… let him know you're here?" Still hesitant, but giving in. It would do. With a flash of uncertain smile, the stranger left and he was alone again.
"Hah." Sho let out a breath half-laugh half-cry. He was hiding from an empty hotel room now. Good times, good times.
A rap on the doorframe. Sho looked over his shoulder. "Really, I'll be—"
"Nice little show," Reino said. He pushed off the frame lazily, a slight slouch in his walk as if he couldn't care less about where he was or what he was doing. "Thanks for sticking around and saving me a walk." The words fell out into the space between them, colored dark by the vicious smile on Reino's face.
Sho was up and moving before he even had time to think. He flung himself across the room, midstride kicking up and out, lashing out at Reino's chest. Reino twisted; his heel still caught his torso, glancing off as he spun away. A step and his wrist was snared in the strange iron grip of delicate fingers. The edges of his vision flickered; Reino laughed coldly.
"Cute," he said, edging closer to Sho, his eyes wary. "Like old times." His hand ran down Sho's back, the movement making Sho jerk forward, his body involuntarily trying to escape. Cold hands traced a path around his waist, pulling him right against Reino's chest. He felt nausea rising in him and shook his head wildly, fighting to keep it down. He would not be weak.
Reino's eager whisper in his ear brought it all crashing down. "The more you fight this, the more you remind me of her."
"Leave her out of this," Sho gasped. Why were his hands so weak? He clawed at Reino's grip on his waist but it was like fighting a marble statue.
"She's the entire point," Reino said. "It's not as if I actually want you. Breaking you has been unexpectedly fun, though."
Sho's mind whirled. How was he supposed to fight against this? How could he win against someone that only needed to touch his bare skin to render him useless?
He grit his teeth. Maybe the key was to not fight. Maybe the way to win was to make him think he had what he wanted, to act broken. Kyoko would never come for him. She was safe in Japan with lover-boy. He could let himself burn.
He let his head drop forward, lolling to the side, baring himself before Reino. His insides felt like they were curdling, his skin trying to crawl away from the bareness where Reino's breath fell.
Remember this, he told himself. Feel. Use this. Breathe. This is food for our song. Burn.
Reino's hands gripped him more tightly. He could feel him shift behind him. His body tried to tense, adrenaline threatening, but he forced himself to stay still.
"Hmmm," Reino said, his fingers brushing stray hairs from Sho's neck. "Interesting." The space behind Sho went chill; Reino had stepped away.
"See you on set, rock star." His voice rang out in the empty hallway.
Sho sagged, falling into the chair. The chair was shaking, rattling his teeth. No, wait— that was just him.
His hands still trembling, he pulled out his phone.
New Message
To: Koga
Subject: Hey
— hey. how are you? it's been… a while. don't drink too much, you ass
