Courage

Koga wanted to stick the gum he was chewing right on the giant green iris shining at him. It was the fourth billboard he'd been stuck staring at on his way to Narita airport. He was torn between wanting to buy a full size copy and hiring someone to glue his own face over the triumvirate of personalities his rival had successfully sold to the Japanese public. He'd settled for sneering at him. All three of him.

Tsuruga Ren was Kuon Hizuri. Koga shook his head. It was a meager sort of comfort, knowing all his messy years of efforts to steal the number one slot had been against the son of the greatest actor Japan had ever produced.

But Kuon Hizuri being Cain Heel undid any state of comfort for the future— the mastery of the role, the double-deception and ability to live a lie so thoroughly he deceived his entire ensemble while also acting out a villain so grotesquely cruel it made audience members physically ill made Koga feel ill himself. This was a god-like level he could not even remember from Hizuri-sama himself, and it was terrifying. Koga pressed his fist against his mouth, staring back at Tsuruga-Hizuri. He had an outlandish desire to bow at the poster. He swatted the air instead, forcing himself to take the pressure and shove it down, reform it and birth it into drive.

At least each poster took his mind off of the complete and total insanity of this trip. His argument with his manager over whether it was appropriate for a star of his caliber to cancel on two television appearances and a modeling gig for a purely personal trip had escalated so quickly that he'd wound up firing the man. Koga itched his arm, fidgeting in place. The security line was taking too long. Giving him too much time for introspection before the last opportunity to easily ditch.

Kijima's words were boring into his brain like weevils.

Either they're damn good actors or they've been together.

He clasped and unclasped his hands. Finally the security checkpoint gave him something to do with all this nervous energy. He had his pocket emptied and bin loaded in record time, bouncing on his heels behind the woman taking an excruciatingly long time to undo her watch buckle.

So what if they were sleeping together? Reframed, that was actually a good thing. It meant Sho was gay or bi. He had a chance. It may be a ridiculously long shot and a moral gray area but he had a chance. It wasn't that devious to interfere in a relationship that couldn't be more than a few weeks old. Especially not if the relationship made one of the partners' life-light flicker like it had in the music video.

Koga knew Sho. He was not that good of an actor. He wore his emotions all over his face. Like when he'd ordered the strawberry daiquiri and had burned with embarrassment at being called out for his flamboyant taste in drinks. His cheeks had been hot pink; he'd refused to make eye contact; he'd even hunched his shoulders some, physically shielding his drink from view despite his cocky words of defense. Koga laughed under his breath thinking of when Sho had been pissed about having to make breakfast and chucked the plate of burnt toast at him. His face-- all screwed up and ferocious like he was actually trying to imitate one of the angry god votives. Ah, and the mountain of groceries! Junk food covering the kitchen! His absolute confusion over how to cook, betrayed by furrowed brows and the way his cheek bulged as he chewed on his tongue, standing there holding a bottle of soy sauce like it was space matter.

His gaze fell on his own feet, cheeks warming as he waited in line for boarding, his mind's eye filled with still-frames of Sho's face fresh from the shower, his face red from more than just the shower's heat, his eyes wide with hope. So easily crushed and turned into lonely anger to match with his own.

Koga knew his faces. Physical relationship or no, behind the scenes of that video Sho was not happy.

He hated the part of himself that twisted giddily every time he thought of that, but he couldn't deny it. The way Sho looked at that man meant Koga had a chance. He may not be wanted, or needed, but he was going to come anyways and if all he did was wake Sho up to the fact that he looked absolutely miserable then at least-- well then at least Sho might improve his acting for next video.

He was going, and that was that. Koga buckled himself into the seat with determination he didn't feel and swallowed his sleeping pill.

_

Alone in the apartment, Sho lifted an amber-filled bottle to his lips, watching his reflection mirror the action.

"Shut him up or sink below," he said to his mirror self, tipping the bottle in toast at the vision. He swayed slightly. "'Course, you need to be brave enough to shut him up." Sho stared at himself, cocking an eyebrow. He leaned in close, bonking his forehead on the mirror.

Rubbing his head in irritation, scowling at himself like the reflection Sho was to blame, Sho took another drink. He looked at the bottle. "This'll help. Yesss… can't get in my head if even I don't know what's in there anymore." He drank deeply, the cheap liquor burning as he swallowed rapidly.

A knock on the door. Sho twitched, looking from the door to his reflection with wide eyes.

"Time's up," he said, taking a shuddering breath. One final toast and he strode over to the door. He forced words out, as if speaking first could render him somehow in control of the exchange. "You don't usually knock--"

He froze. His next breath was less of an exhale and more of an exhumation, and suddenly he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life knowing the difference.

"Koga," he said, his voice faltering. He felt his eyes start to water and shook his head vigorously, but the vision remained. Slowly he raised his hand, his fingers reaching out to touch the one beautifully out of place curl. The other man didn't move, his gray eyes calm, his chest rising and falling evenly. A dream. A cruel hallucination.

Sho didn't care. He grabbed Koga by the wrist and jerked him inside, shoving him against the wall and pinning him. He was desperate to hear his voice but anything this drunken dream would give him was like rain in the desert, falling on his parched soul. His lips brushed over Koga's-- the touch was deliriously real, soft and warm, just the hint of wetness near the center where his lips parted. Sho felt himself tremble. He pressed his lips over Koga's with a moan, and suddenly the other man was moving. His hands gripped Sho's face, pulling him in tight, forbidding him from breaking the kiss. The dream answered his every wish as Koga's lips opened, his tongue hungrily searching for Sho's, his voice rising and mingling with Sho's own, filling the dream with the sounds of their need.

"Oh God," Sho gasped, not daring to break the kiss, kissing and speaking and crying all at once. "Oh Koga, oh god."

Koga's hands slid under his shirt, slipping it up and suddenly Sho wavered. "No--" he said, the syllable harsh as he stumbled backwards. "You can't see. This is my dream and you won't see." He shook his head, groggy. The room was spinning. He wouldn't let Reino ruin this dream too. Those marks-- Koga couldn't know-- he had to-- he fell, tripping over something on the floor, a strong grip catching him and holding him up. He was pressed too tightly into someone's warmth.

"No!" he shouted. It had to be Reino. No one else knew. "Don't touch me. Don't," he said, swaying against them.

"Shhh," they said. "Sleep. It's okay."

Sho felt himself crying. He'd even gotten to hear his voice.

Dreams were too cruel.