until the stars blink out of existence
Nene knows Yugi Amane like the back of her hand.
That's right, that Yugi Amane. Pop Idol sensation Amane. Billboard hits front-runner, Amane. Sold out stadiums, millions of posters of his face plastered over teen girls bedrooms — Amane.
And she doesn't just mean she knows surface level observations that many fandom blogs and gossip sites obsessively collect and compile into top ten tier lists aptly named something to the effect of 'what you don't know about your favorite idol! Number 4 made me gasp!' She isn't talking about silly things like what his default order at Starbucks is, or what his favorite color might be all because he was once spotted sporting a hat in a particular shade of gray.
When she says she knows him, she means she knows him. She knows what time he wakes up in the morning, and what days he likes to sleep in. She knows that he likes his eggs scrambled with butter instead of oil. She knows he chipped his front tooth wrestling with his twin brother when he was ten, and that he once dreamed of being an astronaut, and still keeps his old space pen tucked in the front pocket of his beaten up polo shirt. She also knows that the paint on that pen is chipped from age and all the times he's turned it in his hands while reminiscing about those old aspirations.
More than that — she knows that she's the one responsible for bringing him into the industry, and that he loves it every bit as much as he hates it — which is par for the course in this profession unfortunately.
Nene had 'discovered' Amane when she was twenty two, and brand new in the idol managing scene. And Amane, at nineteen — he was newer than new, he was an outlier, a complete unknown. They came together one unseasonably frosty Autumn day when Nene had been sitting on a park bench, nursing a lukewarm cup of vending machine coffee and lamenting the demise of two simultaneous relationships. One in her personal life and one in her professional life.
For starters, her boyfriend of six months, Fuji-kun (who she had so confidently proclaimed to her best friend Aoi just a week prior that she was certain was 'the one') had broken up with her via text of all things, with a half baked explanation about how she worked too hard at her job and didn't have enough time for him. Which is funny because not even a day later, her first and only client, an up and coming fashion model, dropped her as a manager citing a desire for further expansion opportunities under a different agency.
It was tragic really. The reality that she couldn't keep a boyfriend or a client. Maybe she was just doomed to have every single significant male presence in her life walk out on her. Maybe she was cursed.
Nene was in the middle of a mental crisis, weighing every action she's ever done that could be construed as bad juju, when the weight on the bench shifts, and suddenly she wasn't sitting alone anymore. The scent of roasted yams, a muffled laugh, the ill conceived next words: "Wow, your ankles are really swollen aren't they? Did you get stung by a bee?" That was her introduction to Yugi Amane.
In absolutely no mood to be insulted when she was at her lowest of lows, Nene opened her mouth, about to snap back and give this rude stranger a piece of her mind when she turned and caught his gaze. Just like that all her words bled dry. It was as if the universe held its breath that moment, and even the breeze around them quieted, opting to tread around the two of them on velvet paws. The stranger blinked back at her; all messy hair and honeyd eyes, radiating a juvenile sense of boyish charm so magnetic, she was certain she could translate it into profit if she managed him well enough.
Shamelessly, Nene observed him further, making no effort to hide how transparent she was with her staring. Sharp jaw, pale skin, he was tall, if not a bit lanky, but girls were kind of into that look these days weren't they? His posture could use some work too, but overall, good potential. Maybe even excellent.
If the boy in question was uncomfortable with her blatant staring, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he seemed to have mistakenly come to the conclusion that she wasn't staring at him, but at the tinfoil wrapped yam in his hand. Titling his head to the side in a sweetly innocent manner, he nodded in the direction of a nearby food cart selling coal roasted yams. "Do you want one? I'll buy you one."
Now Nene had stopped believing in simple-minded things like destiny around her fifth brutal breakup, but her meeting Amane that day, that must have been something close to it — and if not destiny, then at least a serendipitous stroke of fate. That was what she told herself back then too, with her fingers tight around his wrist, dragging him back to headquarters while rambling incoherently about how she was gonna make him a star. Bigger than Mariya Takeuchi once was.
The young man in question only followed along silently, no rhyme or resistance as chewed thoughtfully on his yam; seemingly unbothered he was getting strung along by a total rando — that was until they reached the destination. Then he promptly stopped in his tracks, blinked a few times, and then exclaimed, "Wait, you actually work for the idol industry? I thought you were just trying to pick me up and take me to some sleazy love hotel!"
Utterly dumbfounded, Nene had gaped at him, looking at him with the equivalent of a question mark painted across her face. "Why did you follow me then?" she asked. And he just shrugged. That was just the kind of energy Amane radiated. Not quite apathetic, but a decidedly reserved acceptance that allowed Nene to do as she pleased, as she pulled him headfirst into stardom.
He didn't seem to have that hunger for fame, or that drive to make it in this cutthroat business they occupied. Instead he seemed content to let her tell him what to do, and who to be, with nothing more than a shrug, a flirty comment, and a lopsided grin.
Even on days when Nene would admittedly overwork him, the thing that drove him to push on would never be number one singles, guest spot appearances or even more merch revenue; instead he'd just 'boop' her on the nose, ruffle her hair and proclaim, "I'll do it 'cause you're cute," seemingly hell bent on carrying his laissez faire attitude to the grave with him.
Despite these eccentricities, Amane as an idol worked. He had the billboard hits and dedicated fangirls to prove it. And Nene had always known he would make it. Even when the older executives were skeptical. They didn't understand that all idols didn't need to be fresh-faced and clean-cut. Idols were like love interests in shoujo manga. Rarely ever perfect when introduced to the audience. They were instead oftentimes violent, abrasive, and rough around the edges in a bad boy type way that can only be softened gradually by true love and character development.
What she's trying to get at — is that she had seen in Amane, not a finished product, but potential. Someone who could be molded and shaped into something special. Someone who could grow up and flourish in the eyes of everyone; a dark horse in the industry the public could root for and grow attached to. And they did. They grew remarkably attached. And Nene would be lying if she said she was any different.
Because — Amane just shined. He had that natural charisma about him that never seemed disingenuous. Despite not being particularly passionate about the industry like so many of his peers were, he put his all into whatever he did, especially his performances.
Nene could see it now, the way he looked: sweat beading on his forehead, eyes shining gold, stagelight illuminating the crown of his head and forming something to the effect of a halo. Some days even she would even have to stop and catch her breath at the sight of him shining so brightly. Brighter even, than those stars he onced dreamt of seeing for himself. In fact, she was sure that even after all the stars in the sky blinked out of existence one day, he'll still still be every bit as radiant.
That charisma transferred off-stage too. Especially when they were in private. She'd never admit it, but sometimes those innocent brushes and demure glances really did a number on her. Occasionally they caused her stomach to flip with something dangerously akin to desire.
It's in the way he frequently joked about her being his type, and how he reacted to her insults the same way he reacted to her compliments. He was flirty to a fault and never serious. And most importantly, despite his pretty face, and unnaturally long lashes, he could be downright wicked when he wanted to be. And unluckily for her, he always wanted to be.
Especially in this moment — three years after that fateful first meeting on the park bench — and he's got her trapped in the infamous kabedon, most prominently featured in her favorite shoujo mangas. And it's exactly as bizarre as it sounds.
It might've even been her fault actually.
They'd been knocking back beers and sake at his apartment celebrating another successful record release; a tradition they've established ever since Amane turned the legal drinking age. And while they started off goofing around like they always do, teasing and sniping at each other, conversation soon turned to Nene bemoaning her still single status, as it tends to be the case when she has a little too much to drink.
"I'm twenty seven now! That means if I want to be married by the time I'm thirty, I'll need to meet someone this year, because I want to date that person for a year first, and then also be engaged for a year."
"I really don't see what the big deal is if you get married later," Amane said, pouring himself another cup of sake before throwing it back quickly.
"Amane-kun, you don't get it. You're still so young. So many opportunities to find love—"
" —We're only three years apart."
" —And why haven't you found love? Hmm? Do you know how lucky you are to have me as a manager? Other managers forbid relationships for their stars, but not me! I support it. I encourage it! It's like what they say: youth is a blossom that keeps blooming in youth."
"Who says that? That doesn't make any sense. You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk, I'm just singleeeeee," she whined, flopping her head down against his tea table with a loud 'thud'. For a few moments the only sounds in the apartment were Nene's pathetic whimpers as she ground herself deeper and deeper into the table. But then Amane spoke, voice low and serious.
"Hey Yashiro… if you're really worried about it, how about I just marry you then?"
Unable to believe her ears, Nene lifted her head up, hesitantly meeting Amane's gaze, and it looked as though a fire had been kindled in his eyes. Her stomach knotted instantly.
"D-don't joke about that, it's not funny, Amane-kun!"
"I'm not joking. You're always griping about how you're so busy managing me that you can't go out and find someone decent, right? Well think of this as me taking responsibility."
It was true. She was always attributing her lack of a dating life to the hectic schedule of managing a huge star. And sure, her job must not have helped expand her prospects, but in reality that wasn't the reason for it at all. Because — sometimes it's just better to have an excuse rather than own up on to your own shortcomings. And Yashiro Nene's life up until she met Amane had been full of shortcomings. Chubby ankles, mediocre grades, rejected by high school senpais then college ones. The only thing she'd done in her life that wasn't a shortingcoming was Amane. Amane was her shot in the dark. Her bright burst of sulfur and ashes, and someone she absolutely, irrefutably could not afford to lose.
Someone she wouldn't lose. Not if she could help it. So swallowing down her anxiety, she grinned up at him. "Look who's the one who's drunk now."
Then — a flash of anger blazed across his countenance, fast like lightning, and before she could even comprehend what was happening he'd gotten up and had her pinned to the wall and into the precarious situation she presently finds herself in.
…
"I'm not drunk," Amane says, looking at her with this strange, glittering type of intensity that's somehow simultaneously genuine and disarming. "I'm saying I want to marry you." His face is dangerously close to hers. So close she could smell the sake wafting from his breath.
A strangled breath escapes Nene, and her knees give out (just a little) from that sultry stare he's giving her, but she's also nothing if not a professional, so after taking a few seconds to collect herself, she manages a laugh, pushing back on his chest in an effort to create some distance between the two of them.
"Jeez, Amane-kun you know your fangirls must be crying right now. God, can you imagine the headlines? Extra, extra! Idol Yugi Amane's manager seduces him. Coerces him into a shotgun wedding! The scandal practically writes itself."
Amane squints at her unimpressed, clearly not taking the bait she's laid out to diffuse the tension. "Extra extra? Are you some flap-cap wearing newsie selling papers in the late eighteen hundreds?"
The blush on her face intensifies, and she bristles harder in an attempt to hide it.
"No, but what I am is your manager, and I'm telling you to knock it off. Save it for one of your fangirls, okay?" she says, trying to sound firm. And it must have worked too because Amane deflates a little at her words, noticeably so, looking put out like a service dog being forced into early retirement.
"How mean." He pouts. "You used to say you were my number one fan. Was that a lie? You don't like a single thing about me?"
There's no way that could be true. He has to know that. Nene likes a lot of things about Amane. Not just his stage persona, and his talent. A lot of things. She likes that despite the stardom and the burnout, and the three coffees a day to get him out the door to his next interview, that by and large, Amane is just a very nice guy. There's an earnest energy in the way he carries himself. A genuine quality to him that never fails to put her at ease.
She likes that when she's telling a story and it's clear everyone else has stopped listening, Amane will catch her eye and nod, letting her know she at least still had his undivided attention. She likes that when Amane hands her a cup of coffee he will hold it by the scorching base just so she could take it by the handle.
She likes that, just as she knows everything about him, he knows everything about her. He knows she was in the gardening club in High School, and that her speciality was tomato plants (she included her home-grown tomatoes in a bento she made for him once, and he then went on to 'forget' his lunch for an entire week just so she'd make him a spare). He knows she's a sloppy drunk, and he has had to pick her up at Izakayas after rough breakups before, all while apologizing profusely to the other patrons, when really, as his manager it should be the other way around.
She likes how understanding he is. How he's comforted her through heartbreak after heartbreak and always taken her side. She likes how he smiles up to his eyes with one eyebrow cocked, always looking like he's only one provocation away from a sarcastic quip.
She likes everything about him.
And— Oh god.
Does she like him? Like, like him, like him?
She blinks up at Amane, feeling her face grow exponentially warmer. It certainly isn't helping that he's looking at her with a love like hunger, and his eyes are smouldering like an overfed fire.
What if he's serious? What if he really does want to marry her? Does she want to marry him?
"Amane-kun, I—"
And that's when Amane promptly bends over in the opposite direction of her and retches, throwing up the majority of the alcohol he consumed that night.
For a second Nene just stands there dumbfounded, then realization sinks in, and oh. OH. It seems maybe she isn't the only sloppy drunk in this relationship. She should've known. But really instead of kicking herself for being so naive and believing it could be true for even a second, what she really wants to do is just laugh, or cry. Or both. But instead, she slinks back into her manager role like a well worn suit and reaches forward, pulling up her pathetic idiot who she loves so much.
"Okay, drunk guy, let's get you washed up."
Amane swats her hand away, swiveling around violently to face her. "NO dammit, I still have things to say." And it's hard not to pity him when he looks halfway between a wild animal and a stubborn toddler throwing a temper tantrum all because he doesn't want to take a nap.
"I know you do," Nene coos placatingly, trying a gentler approach. "I know." Amane pouts at her, but doesn't move to knock away her hands again, so taking that as a good sign, she loops his arm over her shoulder, propping him up and guiding them to the bathroom.
It had just been drunk ramblings after all. Just like she thought. Of course he wasn't serious. How could he be? He's famous Idol Yugi Amane, and she's just his underpaid, overworked, perpetually single manager. Even so, maybe it still made her happy. To get a spontaneous proposal like that.
Just a tiny bit at least.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if you enjoyed it!