If you could see me
Whoever I am
It's not like the movies
But it's not all skin and bones
Fuuma sat on the couch and fiddled with his phone. He wanted to text Kamui, and also didn't want to. He didn't want to screw up. He had such a long history of screwing things up with Kamui, and he could tell that this was important, this was like my-twin-has-a-stalker-and-I-need-help level of important. He couldn't do this wrong, not this time. He just had this feeling that he couldn't apologize or smooth it over if he messed up this particular thing.
The first text from Kamui had come only a week after they'd gotten back from the concert tour. Before that meeting with Fujimoto, where Subaru had held him back and warned him. Fuuma had already known something was wrong by then.
There had been a lot more texts in the weeks that had followed. Fuuma hadn't answered any of them. Oh, sure, he'd texted Kamui about other stuff, meaningless stuff. But he didn't answer these ones. Just saved them in his phone. It seemed like Kamui was trying to say something important but he couldn't seem to get there, and Fuuma didn't want to interrupt.
He thought about them a lot.
He found himself opening them up and reading them again, hoping like he did every time that this would be the moment that clarity would dawn and he would know how to respond.
Would you still care about me if I looked different?
I can't even tell what you want from me
seriously, is it flirting or just about annoying me, anyway?
Subaru said I'm not happy and I think he might be right
I don't know how to be happy.
I hate
sorry, I was trying to delete that
do you think I'm attractive?
I don't know what I want anymore
Did you ever wish you were somebody else?
Fuuma fiddled with his cell phone, starting to compose a message and then deleting it. He'd done it a million times in the past month. He didn't know what was up with Kamui, and he didn't know how to find out. He had seen him a few times, when they all pretended they were one big happy family and he got invited over to the house to eat with them when they were having a writing session or something. Kamui had always been slender but now he looked hollowed-out. Exhausted.
He'd tried to ask Subaru, but Subaru said he couldn't talk about it. Kamui was the only one who could decide whether or not to talk about what he was going through. Fuuma felt something in his throat struggling to climb out when Subaru said that.
He's trying to, he wanted to say. He's trying to talk about it, but I don't think he knows how. Please help.
But he didn't say that. He let it be. He was starting to feel like that had been a mistake. Hell, it had felt like a mistake five minutes after the conversation ended. He should have said something.
His fingers suddenly started composing a new message, but this one went to Subaru.
Kamui has been texting me a lot lately. He's asking weird questions and I don't know what to do.
It was only a minute later that the response came back.
What kind of weird questions?
Like if I find him attractive and if I ever wanted to be somebody else. He also said he doesn't know how to be happy.
Fuuma could hear Kurogane clomping around in the bathroom, having just finished taking a shower. Fuuma had already taken one, and he scrubbed a hand through his damp hair while he waited for a response. He'd started the electrician training program and was all but promised a place in the company that Kurogane and Shizuka worked for once he got finished. It wasn't that interesting, but neither was it entirely boring. He didn't really want to rig the stage and do tech unless he was doing it for the Paper Cranes, so he had to find some way to make a living.
Maybe he should try to make dinner or something. Kurogane hadn't come home until nearly eight and grunted something about his job sucking this time of year and actual fires that needed to be put out. Fuuma hadn't paid a lot of attention. He'd been too worn out from a day of cramming abbreviations into his head and slicing his thumb open while practicing during training, and taking the bus home in the ridiculous November cold in Chicago. Last winter had nearly killed him, and this one wasn't any easier on his Florida-born-and-bred soul.
A text message came in.
I don't know what to say. I know what the problem is, but it's not my place to tell you. What have you said back?
Nothing. I haven't said anything. I didn't know what to say.
Okay. That's at least not a disaster.
You could help me out a little more than that, dude.
I'm sorry.
Fuuma waited again, and finally Subaru came back with more.
He's having a sort of identity crisis. He's going through a lot. It's got a lot to do with our parents and the way we were raised, I think. Maybe you should just let him talk without answering. He's not talking to me about it much, and I'm sort of glad he's talking to somebody about it.
Yeah, okay. Can do, I guess.
This was, if anything, even more confusing than it already was, but there wasn't a lot that Fuuma could do about it.
Except . . . His fingers flew, and he hit the send button before he could think about it too hard.
Look, you're my friend no matter what, and I'm always going to care about you. So whatever's wrong, you can talk to me anytime. No strings attached.
And then he tried to let it go. He went into the kitchen and rummaged. Unfortunately he had no clue what he was doing. Plus they had terrible food. Frozen pizzas, lunchmeat and pre-sliced cheese, he had a bottle of milk that was probably off, oatmeal . . .
When Kurogane came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Fuuma had dumped two cans of soup into a pot on the stove and was squinting at the directions on a package of corn muffin mix.
"Should I have done this before I started heating the soup up?"
Kurogane snorted. "You have literally never cooked for yourself, have you?"
"Not really," Fuuma admitted. "I lived in the dorms at my university and ate in the cafeteria. I've pretty much been living on Taco Bell and Hot Pockets since then, or whatever we eat on the road."
Kurogane shook his head. "Wow. Fuck, I've been acting like a lazy asshole since we got back because I'm doing that stupid I've-been-dumped-and-my-ex-has-a-new-boyfriend depression thing. But I'm done. Oh my god, what have we been eating? This is sick. Okay, from now on, I'm buying real food and teaching you how to cook, okay?"
Fuuma shouldn't be surprised that Kurogane knew how to cook. Kurogane apparently knew how to do everything. He had made some kind of comment about women's nail polish while they were watching a commercial on t.v. last night. Fuuma couldn't exactly make fun of him when the guy also knew how to re-do the plumbing in the bathroom. Maybe adults were just supposed to know shit like that. Maybe there was a book.
"Hey is there like, a manual for being a grownup?"
Kurogane rolled his eyes.
"No, seriously, where do you learn how to cook and iron your shirts and shit?"
Kurogane shrugged. "I learned from my—from Lydia. You're gonna learn from me. I guess it's just the kind of thing people have to teach each other."
Fuuma grinned, but instead of saying thank you he said, "I still think there should be a manual."
Then his phone pinged. Kurogane was left to figure out the muffin mix while Fuuma read the new text with his heart pounding too hard.
Would you hate me if I was a woman?
"What the fuck, what the fuck," Fuuma chanted as he read it over and over again. "What the fuck, Kamui."
He could tell it wasn't a joke. Subaru had literally just told him that Kamui was having an identity crisis that he'd been struggling with since childhood. Fuuma immediately wanted to be angry, and sad. He'd been in love with Kamui since the moment he laid eyes on him, but he was gay and he didn't fall in love with women, and Kamui was somehow running so far away from him that there was no way he could ever get him back. And then he thought about how long Kamui had been alone with this. Certainly longer than the month he'd been texting Fuuma.
He was desperate, and sad, and lonely and he was Kamui. There was only one right answer.
No, of course not.
Did he mean it? Could he see Kamui as a woman and care about that woman? Want to listen to what she had to say and want to hold her when she was crying? Would he love her?
His fingers were shaking, but he typed it out and sent it.
I said I would always care about you. You'll always be my friend. You're not alone, okay?
Kamui never responded, but Fuuma was still glad he sent it. He went back into the kitchen to help Kurogane, but it felt hard to walk. Like the floor had been yanked out from under him and he was trying to figure out how to walk on nothing but empty air.
"You okay?" Kurogane said, forehead knitting into a frown.
"Fine," Fuuma muttered. "Just Kamui."
Kurogane's frown just got deeper at that. "So are you okay?" he repeated.
He knew how bad Fuuma got messed up over Kamui, so yeah, maybe it was stupid to try to "Just Kamui" him. To distract and annoy him, Fuuma pulled up 'Baby It's Cold Outside' on his phone and started playing it. Fai and Carly Rae Jepsen started crooning at them, and Kurogane hunched his shoulders and started not so much stirring the soup as stabbing it.
It wasn't that Kurogane hated the song, he didn't think. Or even that he hated Fai going off and recording songs without the rest of the band. He didn't even think Kurogane hated Carly Rae Jepsen.
No, it was just that all the gossip magazines a few weeks ago had paparazzi photos of Fai and Carly Rae Jepsen holding hands while they walked out of a coffee shop in Los Angeles. They'd gone there to record their song and Fai had come back in a swirl of rumors that he was secretly dating his duet partner. Kurogane had been moody ever since, and it had way less to do with Shizuka dumping him than he claimed.
"Turn that shit off, you made your point," he muttered.
"Okay, sorry," he muttered in return.
They turned on the t.v. to cover the awkward silence. They had gotten over it enough for Kurogane to laugh and shove Fuuma playfully when he started insisting that they put up a Christmas tree on the weekend.
(five years and four months ago)
They had been dating for all of two weeks before Fai fell asleep on Yasha's couch for the first time. That time, Yasha just chuckled and woke him with a kiss and a stroke of his broad hand through Fai's hair. He said Fai was welcome to keep napping, but he might want to finish the studies he'd brought over first. Dinner was almost ready.
Yasha's good humor about Fai's tendency to fall asleep on his homework didn't last long. Neither did Fai's hope that Yasha's chivalrous nature and flattering possessiveness were true indicators of moral fiber. No, he was not so naïve as to be blind to what was happening when Yasha's "friends" happened by and Fai was sent immediately out on an errand or firmly reminded that he wanted a book from the university library.
His only fault was inexperience. He just thought that Yasha was selling weed. He didn't even think he cared that Yasha was doing it, and in fact gave himself the benefit of feeling worldly for rolling his eyes when Yasha sent him out of the apartment. He even suffered a niggling little belief that Yasha might eventually trust him enough to just let him stay instead of kicking him out every time.
He was dumb enough to say so, one night.
And that was how he had been led here, to this moment.
"You—are you kidding? Is this a joke? This isn't funny."
He'd just admitted that his mother was sick, sicker than she'd been letting anyone know. Sicker than he'd admitted to himself until now. Yasha had been digging at him about why he was always so exhausted, always busy, and Fai had finally told him. He spent the first half of every night helping his increasingly frail mother to eat, take her medication, settle in for the night; the second half was now always at the bar where he waited tables. He'd only used to work there two or three days a week, and now he would work seven if they would give it to him and stay until closing every night. They were desperate for money—Freya had insurance, but it wasn't going to be enough when they had to move her into hospice care.
Fai struggled to keep from crying as he explained that seeing Yasha only in snatches between classes and when his mother napped away weekend afternoons wasn't really what he wanted. That he wished they had more time together. That he was desperate not to fail any of his classes and desperate not to lose his mother or his boyfriend. He didn't want to cry. Crying was something you could only do when you felt safe.
"You won't take money, will you?" Yasha had said in response to all this, stroking his thumb across Fai's jaw, his eyes tender. Fai flicked his eyes around the spacious apartment and designer furniture, and knew suddenly that Yasha didn't get all this from small change like marijuana. Even if he could have bent his own personality enough to accept that kind of help, he knew he couldn't take money that came from such shady origins. Yasha saw the rebellion on his face right away. "No, of course you wouldn't," he said, cupping Fai's whole face in his hands. "Fai, what can I do to help? Tell me."
"You don't know where I can get magic pills, do you?" he asked weakly. "I'm so stressed out, god. Even when I find time to sleep, I can't seem to relax. I don't want to take sleeping pills. My mom made me take them last year for a while, I hate them."
Was he looking for marijuana? Was that what he wanted? He drank sometimes, at parties, but not much and he knew he'd have to drink too much and go down a bad path if he wanted that to be of any help. It was a stupid thing to say to someone like Yasha. He knew it before it left his lips.
That's when Yasha . . . smiled. It was kind of twisted-up looking. "You think you know what I do for a living, but you're only halfway correct."
He was getting closer to figuring it out all the time, and Yasha took all the ambiguity away with a very short statement.
"I sell cocaine, Fai."
"Oh," Fai said weakly. What else was there to say? "At least it's not heroin?" That might actually sound stupider aloud than it did in his head, somehow.
"It . . . it might help. A little. It's not exactly a long-term solution, and I'd normally never even suggest it to someone like you . . . I mean, fuck, Fai, half of the reason I asked you out in the first place was because you were so different, so fucking normal, but. It might help. With the stress, I mean. Do you want some? I'll give it to you."
And so here he was, asking if that was a joke, even though he knew it wasn't. The look on Yasha's face was pure earnestness, pure sympathy. Fai couldn't even tell if Yasha was just a liar acting out a part, or if he really did care in some psychotic way. What the hell did he even mean, normal? It didn't matter. None of that mattered.
"No, Yasha, no of course not," he said, his voice shaking. "I don't—no."
Yasha just nodded, gathered him into his arms on the couch, and used the remote control to re-start the movie he'd fallen asleep watching earlier.
"In that case, let me see what I can do to help you relax whenever you can be here," he said softly.
It was the closest Fai did come to relaxing, these days. Those strong arms around him, the big hands carding in his hair, eating a meal that wasn't snatched out of a microwave or nibbled out of a paper bag, a safe place to study without interruption beyond a soft kiss on the back of his neck once in a while. He knew he shouldn't be calling a cocaine dealer his boyfriend. But Yasha was the only solid and stable thing he had, and he didn't know how to let him go.
Touya hadn't wanted to bring Kurogane with them, and Yukito knew it. Which was why he was being snappish and distant with his boyfriend. He wasn't trying to punish him, exactly, he was just still pissed off and didn't want to be talking to him while he was pissed off.
It was really something of Touya to think that. Yukito didn't know what, but he knew it was something. Ungenerous at best, and maybe cruel.
Kurogane could go to a bar if he wanted to go to one. He was going to hang out with them, not to drink. Yukito hadn't even needed to ask. He knew Kurogane and therefore he knew better. That Touya was apparently going to think something else, even if he didn't bring it up with either Yukito or Kurogane . . . It was stupid of him. It was— something.
Kurogane strolled in beside Yukito while Touya trailed dourly behind them after fiddling with locking the car as though it had somehow started malfunctioning in the last fifteen minutes. Kurogane turned a quizzical look at Yukit, unwinding the thick scarf from around his neck as they entered the slightly damp heat of the bar.
"Did you guys get in a fight?"
"Not exactly," he sighed, tugging forcefully at his own scarf and nearly losing grip on the end of it in a last draft of biting Chicago wind before he was safely inside.
"Then why are you mad at him? Is he mad at me? Did you guys . . . not want me to come tonight?"
Kurogane was a smart guy. It didn't take him long to put together his own question with the grimace on Yukito's face and Touya's dramatic attitude like the actual world was ending tomorrow.
"You didn't want to bring me here, huh."
"I wanted to," Yukito objected, throwing Touya under the bus exactly where he deserved to be.
Kurogane turned back around to look at Touya as he entered behind them, and Yukito braced himself. They hadn't had one of their really loud and terrifying arguments since Syaoran had died and Kurogane had gotten sober. He didn't want to see one of those again, but he also didn't blame Kurogane for being angry. He wondered if he ought to call Fujitaka and Sakura so they knew it was one of those and were prepared for their boys to be emotional wrecks. They'd still been little more than kids last time this happened. He didn't know what nearly six years might do to them.
He watched, dumbfounded, as Kurogane approached Touya quietly and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," he said, almost too quiet for Yukito to hear past the general din of the bar even though he was standing close. "It's gonna be fine. I promise. Okay?"
"You're not mad?"
"Nah," Kurogane said easily.
"Did I hurt your feelings?"
Kurogane didn't answer that, and also didn't release him from the embrace.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to— it's just that I—"
"Yeah, I know," Kurogane said, squeezed him, and let him go. He rejoined Yukito and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's squeeze in before the place gets too full."
Yukito felt it all go whooshing out of him, and then he could finally relax and have a good time tonight. Apparently Kurogane had learned more in the last few years than simply to stop blaming himself for things beyond his control.
"I want a table," Kurogane said when they started heading for the bar. "I don't want him to know we're here."
"You don't? How come?"
Kurogane shrugged, but he looked like he was hiding something. "I want to know what he's like when I'm not around."
That was . . . weird. Yukito had to admit that he and Kurogane hadn't had a lot of heart-to-hearts since, well, it had been a long time. But it was still weird that something could be going on with him that Yukito didn't know about. Were he and Fai having some kind of fight? Why would he ask to come along to karaoke night at Fai's bar if he was upset with him?
Touya shared a look with him and they shrugged without actually visibly shrugging. They had perfected silent conversation a long time ago. Neither of them knew what Kurogane was trying to do here, and they weren't mad at each other anymore, and that was all they really needed to talk about. Yukito leaned himself into Touya when they sat down, and conversation between the three of them fell into an easy pattern.
It felt good. It hadn't been just the three of them sitting around, hanging out without purpose other than company, in just so long . . .
He briefly buried his face in Touya's shoulder to hide how emotional he was getting, and hoped they both understood that he was only getting this way because he was happy. Kurogane ordered ginger ale without embarrassment when a waitress stopped at their table. Yukito kicked Touya under the table just to rub it in, and they both ordered their usual drinks.
The karaoke host kicked things off with a bang. He gave Fai the microphone right away and made him sing the first song of the night. It was a country song none of them knew, but they could tell Fai was killing it. He didn't know how to perform badly. The host told the patrons to welcome their favourite bartender back and let him get back to work. A round of whistles and whooping went around the room, and then everyone settled into karaoke.
Kurogane got up and went over to speak to the host. Touya and Yukito glared at him when he came back to the table.
"Did you put me in to sing?" Touya demanded.
"Nope."
"Not me either?" Yukito pressed.
"Nope."
"Are—are you going to sing?"
"Hell, no."
"Then . . . oh my god, you troll. What did you put him in for?"
Kurogane just grinned. He settled back into the padded seat with his ginger ale to watch the usual crowd screech and fumble their way through their selections. There were a few gems among them, but none held a candle to Fai. They honestly couldn't tell, watching him scurry to fill orders, which of the bar patrons knew who he was. At least a few of them must, but nobody bothered him. Maybe management was strict. Maybe people here were just nice. Either way, Fai looked happy here.
And then the host reached his place on the list and his voice pitched up in mischievousness. "Well, well, well, what have we here. Looks like someone's playing a little joke on Fai, here."
Fai whipped around, the authenticity fading from his smile until only the frozen keep-the-customers-happy upward twist of his lips remained.
"Fai, someone really wants you to sing again tonight."
Fai looked panicked, and Kurogane suddenly looked regretful. Oh, shit. Yukito's heart skipped a beat. Did they have Paper Cranes songs in the options now? Had Kurogane put him down to do Pinocchio or something?
"Fai, you up to do 'Moves Like Jagger' tonight?"
Fai barked out a surprised laugh, and Kurogane relaxed.
"You absolute fucker," Touya muttered, but he was smiling. "What's wrong with you?"
Fai let himself be persuaded by all the catcalling, and vaulted over the bar with the kind of practiced ease that meant he'd done it countless times before. They could all picture him practicing it in the half-dark after all the customers went home, just for kicks, three or four years ago when he was less . . . weary.
"All right, but I'm going to find out who put me in for this and give you nothing but soda for the rest of the night," he laughed.
Keeping his head low, Kurogane laughed too.
"Joke's on you, buddy," he murmured, lifting his ginger ale just enough for Touya and Yukito's amusement.
Then the song started up, and Fai got into it. He danced around the room, proving that he did have moves, if not like Jagger, then just as good as his. Fai didn't come over to their side of the room, focusing his attentions on a gorgeous blond girl who was clearly having a birthday judging by the sparkly plastic tiara and the pile of wrapping paper beside the trinkets on her table. He gyrated his hips for her and made all her girlfriends whoop with glee and her blush ferociously.
Apparently just to prove a point, he next found a guy who looked straight as an arrow, and crooned at him with lowered eyelids, stroking a hand under his jaw for a moment. The guy looked too dumbstruck to protest. Then Fai lost interest in picking out particular patrons, and just sang.
God, he was good. Sometimes even they forgot how good he really was. Kurogane was staring at the man like a victim of dehydration would stare at a cool mountain spring. And suddenly it clicked for Yukito. Wanting to be here without telling Fai that he'd come. All those hints Sakura had been dropping. Kurogane had a thing for this guy.
And of course he had totally bought into that stupid thing about Fai having a secret pop star girlfriend.
Yukito leaned over the table. "Kurogane."
"Hnh." He couldn't even take his eyes off the guy. Wow, this was kind of sad.
"Fai told the whole band a couple of weeks ago, when we got together to work on a song. He's not actually with that chick. He's not even interested. They got along, and they thought they were being funny. Apparently Fujimoto even gave him the green light to show off in front of the camera, said it would help promote the song. Fai wanted us to know. I'm guessing that can include you."
Kurogane tore his eyes away from Fai for a split second. "Not interested in her? At all?"
"Just between you and me, I think he leans a lot more toward the masculine in his partners. It's a hunch."
It was nearing the moment for Christina Aguilera's solo in the song, and they wondered if Fai was going to pitch his voice and just go for it. But that was when Fai decided to reveal that he knew they were present. He must have known for a while. Possibly the whole night. He sauntered over to their table, every sinuous motion of his hips proving why they let him take the front of the stage.
He stuck the microphone into Kurogane's face.
Everyone looked shocked. Even the karaoke host. Kurogane looked terrified. But Fai was just looking at him, heated and challenging and heavy.
Kurogane's lips cracked apart, he licked them. And just barely on time, almost missing the beat, he filled in his part. His voice was rough with disuse, but something about the rumble actually made it kind of sexy. Yukito felt the thrill go up his spine. He'd forgotten what this sounded like. Kurogane rasped where the original solo belted. It was unpracticed and barely audible. Then it was over and Fai was moving away, finishing the song. Yukito realized that he was holding Touya's hand so hard that he was crushing it. He tried to let go, but Touya clung onto him.
"Nice," Touya said, sounding breezy and uncaring, when Kurogane planted his hands on top of the table to stop them from shaking. "Sounded good."
"I— I can't—" Kurogane said, sounding strangled. "I need some air, okay?"
He jerked up and headed for the door, yanking his coat on, not realizing that the song was over and Fai had handed the microphone back after saying "That was fun, but damn, I need a break. See you all in fifteen or so."
Fai headed straight for Kurogane, and caught him before he could exit. Yukito felt torn. Did he pin Touya to the seat to keep him from getting involved, or did he rush over there with him to help? He needed to know exactly how many years of progress Kurogane had just lost because Fai had pushed him without knowing how dangerous that was.
Kurogane was giving Fai that look again, that look like he was a glass of cold water in a desert. He and Touya both got up at the same time and crept closer to try to overhear without interrupting.
"That was fucking hot as hell and you know it," Kurogane was saying, as if in response to something that Fai had said.
"You weren't so bad yourself," Fai replied. He sounded weighed down. His eyes were dark.
Kurogane cast his eyes to the side. "I don't— don't make me do that again, okay?"
"I didn't make you—"
"You wanted to prove something, I don't know what, but hopefully it's out of your system, because I'm not doing that again," Kurogane snapped.
"Okay," Fai said, more softly. "Okay. I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I've always liked the way you sing. I just wanted to hear it again."
"Again?"
"I . . . may have snuck out of the house as a teenager to go to one of your concerts. Three times."
Kurogane looked too shaken to be angry. "Fai, don't, okay?"
Touya looked like he wanted to step in. Yukito restrained him. These two were grownups. Let them talk. If Kurogane needed them afterwards, they could take care of him then.
"Look, I don't really understand why, but I do understand that you quit singing and you don't want to. Okay? I won't do that again. I'm sorry. I just . . . I felt so fucking good, like all the pressure was gone, and you were there, and I—I don't know. I'm sorry."
"You saying you're happy to have me around?" Kurogane asked, sounding surprised. "I didn't— Fai, um. I wasn't sure if you would even— look, are you?"
"Attracted to the male gender, yes, if that's what you're trying to ask. Bisexual, even."
"Not exactly," Kurogane snorted. "I'm trying to ask if you're interested in me. Because I'd really like to ask you on a date, but I don't want to make an even bigger ass out of myself than I usually do around you."
"I— really? I didn't know you were interested."
"Dude, remember how bad I screwed up the sound in Cleveland? Remember that?"
"Yes?"
"I couldn't take my fucking eyes off you and I fucking forgot I was working. I love watching you up there. Is that as sappy as it sounds?"
Fai didn't answer, but his smile was threatening to break his face in half.
"So will you? Go out with me?"
Fai smiled, and nodded, and all of Yukito's breath blew out of him at the same time Kurogane's did. He hadn't even known he was holding it.
"How's Saturday?" Fai blurted out.
Kurogane grinned. "Good. Saturday's good. I'm guessing you mean tomorrow. I'll pick you up?"
"Oh god, that is tomorrow. Sure, yeah, you can pick me up."
"Okay."
"I. Uh. Have to get back to work."
"Okay, yeah, no, of course you do. But um. Okay."
"Tomorrow," Fai said.
"Tomorrow," Kurogane repeated.
Fai darted in and pecked the corner of Kurogane's lips in the world's fastest kiss. "See you then."
He ran back to the bar and vaulted over it again amidst a round of whistling and whooping that nearly deafened them. Kurogane was standing there looking like someone had hit him over the head with a plank, so Touya dredged up some pity in his soul and threw a few bills on the table so they could hustle Kurogane out of there and get him home.
"You okay?" Touya asked with a careful look as he took Kurogane's hand and pushed the car keys into it. There was still the issue of Kurogane voluntarily singing in public into a microphone, which was something he hadn't done since he'd gotten sober.
"I have a date," Kurogane replied, jingling the keys as if to acknowledge that he had them.
"So I heard. On Saturday."
"With Fai."
"Yeah, man, I got that."
"You guys don't get it, I've been wanting to do that since you dragged me over to wire up the twins' guitars the first time. Like three years ago."
"Then why didn't you?" Yukito asked, sliding into the car's backseat and waving at Touya to hurry the hell up and get in out of the cold.
"Um, I was shacking up with Shizuka at the time?"
The fact that Shizuka had left him for another guy made that lie obvious. The real reason, and all three of them knew it, was that Kurogane had still barely felt like he was allowed to rejoin the human race back then. And he would never have done anything to screw up their chances of making it again as a band, and that meant not getting involved with their lead singer. But now, things were different. He had his confidence back and the Paper Cranes were solid.
Yukito almost warned him about how Fai had been acting lately. Distant. Laughing too much as though it could cover up the fact that he clearly had problems he wasn't talking about. Drinking too much. Disappearing when he'd said he'd be around.
Yukito didn't, though. Kurogane was smart enough to make those observations for himself and he could make the decision about whether or not he could handle being around that. And maybe, just maybe, something like this was exactly what Fai needed to pull himself out of the hole he seemed to be digging. Yukito still felt bad about not saying it, though, when Kurogane pulled into the neighborhood that held both of their apartment complexes.
"You want me to have Fuuma come pick me up in my car?"
"Naw, Yuki can drive," Touya said. "He only had one drink."
Yukito nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just head to your place, I'll get us home from there."
Kurogane did as directed, and they bid each other goodnight while hustling themselves around in the cold to switch seats. Kurogane just waved at them as he jogged upstairs to his apartment. It kind of made Yukito feel good that there was a light in the window up there. When he'd found out that Shizuka and Kurogane had broken up while they were on tour, he'd worried. None of them liked the idea of Kurogane living by himself. Yukito didn't know Fuuma that well, didn't know whether he and Kurogane were close, but he was glad that the other man was around.
Yukito cast a glance over at his boyfriend as he put the car into gear to drive home. "Is it just me, or is this possibly the worst idea ever?"
He didn't even have to clarify which idea he was talking about. "They're going to destroy each other," Touya said, his mouth set in a grim line. "This is absolutely the worst idea ever." He drummed his fingers on the console between them. "Fuck. Why can he and Shizuka not actually fall in love with each other? Why is that so hard?"
Yukito squeezed Touya's fingers before letting go to turn onto their street. "Maybe they'll be good for each other."
Touya's silence said more than anything he might have voiced aloud.
(six years ago)
It had been a long time since Fai had come to the auditorium where the musicians gathered to practice together. His own life had been busy the past year or two. He and his mother both played at home every day, and she still had Ashura and Kohaku over to practice with her at least once a week, so it wasn't as though he was feeling a lack of music in his life.
But it was still something special to come into the vaulted auditorium, breathe in air that always smelled of the polish they used on the instruments, see the rows of chairs with their rows of music stands.
Today, he was only here on an errand. The composer for the orchestra's new piece was not exactly understanding of how close to the date of the concert was, and had made some additional changes for the string instruments. Additional, his mother stressed when she told him about it. Freya wasn't one to complain, but he could hear how close to tears she was, and he'd volunteered to swing by the office to pick up the new sheet music for her. It was really all he could do to help.
He'd already been out of the house, at the university bookstore to get his materials before his second year started next week. He didn't exactly want to lug his heavy bookbag on an extra bus and down to the administrative offices, but he did want to take that strain out of his mother's voice.
So here he was, weighed down but equipped with the new music, and sent on an additional errand that he definitely had not actually volunteered for. Sonomi Daidouji, who was the something-something important (Fai should really have paid attention to the title on her door) and who kept track of donations and benefit concerts and charitable youth outreach things, was in the office. She'd said her thirteen-year-old daughter was doing violin practice in the auditorium and would Fai mind terribly poking his head in there and informing her that it was nearly time to go to ballet class and she should put away her music things and change into her leotard?
Fai had always known that Ms. Daidouji was a little . . . intense. He should have known she was one of those moms. Violin, ballet, and god knew what else. The girl probably went to a prep school and probably studied French or something.
Fai loved his mom for that. Freya was thrilled to have a son that was musically talented, and she'd been more than happy to arrange lessons for any instrument he wanted to study—but she never pushed him. He didn't need it. He'd either take an interest and put in the effort, or he wouldn't. He'd learned cello from her and flute from one of her colleagues, piano from an elderly woman down the street, and guitar from a high school classmate whose talent he'd surpassed within three months. Thank heavens Freya had never assumed that his giftedness and dedication meant he also needed to join the debate team and learn to speak Chinese. Music was what he loved, and she'd been content to share that with him.
He was probably judging Ms. Daidouji—and her daughter—too harshly, he conceded. He barely knew them.
He breathed in the familiar air, and heard the sweet calling song of the violin, and smiled for a moment in the simple pleasure of it. Then he snorted in surprised amusement, and strode around the curtain where the girl had hidden herself before setting her strings wailing.
"Is that Metallica?" he grinned.
The girl jumped in shock, the bow screeched unpleasantly, and she stood up in a rush. "Oh, hello," she said nervously, and peered around the curtain.
"Your mom's still in the office," he assured her.
She visibly relaxed, pushing a long and heavy hank of hair over her shoulder. "I love her," she said conspiratorially, "but she has certain ideas about what music is and is not. And I'm not going to jeopardize having the lessons paid for, you know?"
Fai chuckled. "I thought my mom would have a heart attack when she came home and found me using her cello to play The Foo Fighters, but she actually kind of liked it. She helped me finish the arrangement, even."
"Ohhhh, your mom is Freya Fluorite?"
"Yep. I'm Fai," he said, and tried out a clumsy bow to make her laugh before taking the hand she was holding out to him.
"I'm Tomoyo Daidouji. But I guess you knew that, if you know my mom."
"I don't, really," he assured her. "I was just in the office getting something for my mom, and yours sent me in here to remind you that you've got ballet class soon."
She nodded appreciatively. "I lost track of time, I guess. Thanks!"
She had a sweet smile. She was a sweet girl. Fai had expected some humorless overworked little thing, and instead she was all ladylike and friendly. She was cute as hell, to be honest, and he appreciated the Metallica.
"If you ever want to hang out and try to put something together, just for fun, let me know," he offered. "If we can get a viola player, we could totally rock out."
She laughed. "Thanks, but, um, you know I'm thirteen, right? You look older."
"Oh, god, sweetie, I didn't mean it like that. I am older; I'm almost twenty. And kinda gay."
"Can you even be 'kinda' gay?" she giggled, not even fazed.
"I think I'm bi, actually. And besides, apparently I'm a late bloomer who didn't even realize you might be until like, last year."
Tomoyo tittered. "I figured it out when I was like, five."
Fai snickered. "Yeah, well, not all of us can be that precocious. Anyway, I gotta run and you gotta dance, apparently, so I'll see you later."
Tomoyo winked at him before she started gathering up her sheet music.
"Isn't it kind of a lot?" he suddenly blurted out. "Violin and ballet both?"
She shrugged. "Maybe, but I love both of them and I'm not sure yet whether I want to be a musician or a dancer. I've only got about a year to figure it out before I have to start focusing, so I'd rather enjoy both of them while I can."
"Oh, wow. I thought maybe your mom made you. She seems kinda—" he waved the end of the sentence away.
"She is totally—" Tomoyo copied the hand gesture, "but only about work. She occasionally reminds me that I have a home I could be at when I don't feel like being at practice or recitals."
"You're kind of awesome," Fai said admiringly, and then he escorted her back to her mother's office like the gentleman his mother was always claiming he could be if he tried.
Kurogane thought it would be too much if he opened the car door for Fai. He would park the car in front, go up to the door and maybe Fai would ask him to come inside for a few minutes or maybe they'd head straight out, but it would be trying too hard if he hurried back to the car to open the door for him.
So he wouldn't do that. In fact, his plan was to make this as low-key as possible.
Truth be told, he didn't really know what he was doing anyway. He was far more apt to fall into bed with a guy he was interested in than he was to take him out for a coffee. He hadn't done the sweaty-palmed nervous dinner date thing since his one and only year of college—a handful of drunken one-night-stands with rock groupies had been followed by a nearly-accidental three and a half years with Shizuka in which they'd mostly skipped dating.
So here he was, pulling onto Fai's street and thinking morosely that he was totally going to screw this up. He wasn't the same guy he'd been when he was younger. He didn't swagger and cover up nerves with arrogance anymore. He'd probably end up making things so awkward that Fai just laughed at him and said it was a nice thought but there were a thousand other people flinging themselves at his feet.
Then Fai came out of his front door and jogged up to Kurogane's car before he even had a chance to turn the engine off.
"Hey!" he said brightly as he slid himself into the passenger seat. "I totally was not watching for your car out the window, in case you were wondering, because people stop doing that when they're like fifteen, so clearly I didn't know you were here and just happened to step outside for no reason just as you pulled up." He grinned broadly, and it made him look so fucking handsome that Kurogane nearly drove into a mailbox. "Can you tell I'm nervous? I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm nervous."
Kurogane felt the knot in his stomach loosening up, and he ended up chuckling like he hadn't spent the past hour in mental agony.
"Don't be," he said. "I, uh, I was hoping we could just take this casual and see how it goes. Is that okay?"
Fai let his breath out in a whoosh and leaned back in the seat. "Yeah. That sounds great."
Kurogane gave him a lopsided smile as he headed them toward the mall. "It's been a while for you too, huh?"
Fai laughed. "Yeah, you could say that. It's hard to date when you're in a different city every couple of days."
"I hear ya."
Fai's face suddenly closed off a little.
"What?" Kurogane asked.
"Nothing."
"Ha, I know better. If you were going to say something about me and dating, go for it, I promise not to fly into a fit of rage and throw you out of the car."
"What a gentleman you are," Fai said dryly. "I just thought . . . you've been with Shizuka for a long time, and it must be . . . weird."
Kurogane snorted. "Is this a polite way of accusing me of being a jerk for being interested in you when I was already in a relationship? Or just a polite way of accusing me of being a jerk for being over him so fast?"
Fai grimaced, looking apologetic. "I didn't mean it quite that way, you know. But it is . . . god, it's none of my business. I'm sorry. If we didn't know all the same people, I wouldn't even know all of this, so it's really—it's not important."
Kurogane gave him a disbelieving look. He found that he honestly didn't mind talking to Fai about this, a little bit. It was true; they knew all the same people and Fai already had details he probably wouldn't have shared on a first date. But here they were, so it was probably best to make things clear.
"Look, you already know more about me than I really would have liked. So let's just say that Shizuka and I were both pretty fucked up for a while and we got each other through some bad times because it was what we needed. Now that I can stand on my own again, I want to, well, stand on my own. It's about time I started figuring out what I want, what makes me happy."
Fai was very quiet.
"So far, that's my family, guitar tech, and being around you," Kurogane concluded. "I'm sorry that we're starting off so heavy. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I . . . that I want to try this. That I'm ready for it. In a good headspace."
"Okay," Fai said softly. "I guess I haven't been good at standing on my own and looking for what makes me happy, either. I can't say that my, um, my headspace is so great lately. But maybe that's what we—you know, maybe we can help each other figure this out."
Kurogane didn't know if they could trust each other enough for that, but he said, "Maybe." He tried not to think about it too hard before he let his hand fall from the steering wheel and land on Fai's hand. He tried to think even less about the fact that Fai didn't move his hand away and let him do it. "At the moment, though, let's just help each other with Christmas shopping."
"Christmas shopping?" Fai asked, breaking the heavy atmosphere with a delighted smile.
"Yep. I got no idea what to get for Sakura, so I'm conscripting you to help me because you guys like the same thing ninety percent of the time. I'm going to let you talk me into ice skating at the rink they have set up at the mall, and after a couple of hours you will be tired and I will be gallant and offer to take you to dinner to get you off your feet. If I'm feeling really gentlemanly, I'll let you pick the restaurant."
Fai laughed so much that Kurogane felt the last of the anxiety leave him. He was doing this right, apparently. So far. Fuck, he hadn't even known he was so worried until it went away.
"Is there any spare time in this demanding and carefully structured schedule for us to grab some coffee? I may not last until dinnertime without it."
"I'll try to squeeze it in," Kurogane said thoughtfully. "No promises."
"I haven't done any of my Christmas shopping yet," Fai admitted as they pulled into a parking garage. "So this is great. Hey, you don't know what I should get for a teenaged girl I haven't seen in five years, do you?"
Kurogane figured his facial expression probably spoke for itself on that point.
"Yeah, okay," Fai grinned, reclaiming his hand as they walked toward the mall. "I've just got this old family friend I've been meaning to reconnect with. Actually, wait, is she even a teenager anymore? I think she's Sakura's age. I don't remember."
"So who is she, anyway?"
"Our moms were friends," he explained casually. It made Kurogane look at him sharply. He'd never heard Fai mention his family, and all he knew was that Fai's house was inherited. "Well, sort of friends. But I wanted to talk to her about something. I'll probably just bring her flowers or something."
Fai seemed nervous again. "You're acting like you have a thing for her," Kurogane muttered. Which. Was stupid of him.
"Fuck, no, just to talk to her about something," Fai said easily, apparently oblivious to his stupidity. "Also, look, it's the comic book store. Let's start Sakura-shopping."
Despite the serious beginning, most of their date consisted of Kurogane rolling his eyes while Fai teased him with whoopee cushions and sex toys at a novelty shop, and blushing red as a tomato when Fai dragged him across the ice for a quick kiss before darting away as if expecting Kurogane to give chase. It kept up at dinner with Kurogane's retaliation, wiggling an octopus leg from his seafood salad in Fai's face to make him turn white, and finally walking Fai to his front door with bags in both hands as if to prove that he could be both mature and chivalrous.
He dropped the bags when their first real kiss didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. Their hands fisted in each other's jackets, and it was nearly ten minutes before he pressed a final, slightly regretful kiss on the tip of Fai's chilled red nose.
Fai hadn't invited him in, and he wasn't going to invite himself. Slow. They were taking this slow.
His phone buzzed soon after he left. Text from Fuuma. It might be a request to grab something from the store on the way home, so he opened it up at a stoplight.
Kamui just told me about the view of the front porch from the bedroom window. Nice, boss. Making congratulatory jello. Actually just making jello. But fuck yeah.
Kurogane let the phone drop onto the passenger seat with disgust. He was even more disgusted when he got back to find that Fuuma had somehow contrived a way to write "Congratulations" with grape jelly on top of a bowl of lime gelatin.