DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.

Word: The word-prompt for this one-shot is 'Confession.'

Roasting the Chicken

Squeak…squeak…squeak…

Kyoko had just finished another taping of Kimagure Rock and was making her way back to the dressing room. She was exhausted…sweaty…maybe even a little sore inside Bo's suit. Today's guest had been an Olympic gymnast, which meant, of course, a surfeit of physical comedy on Bo's part. By now, Kyoko was no stranger to backflips or cartwheels—she'd done plenty as Momiji, and now she was doing more as Liar. But doing them in a chicken suit was…hard. Doing them in a chicken suit while being funny…was even harder. Still, she relished the challenge. As an actress, wasn't it her job to absorb life experience? Everything could be a valuable lesson, couldn't it? As difficult as the physical comedy was, she felt a huge amount of accomplishment and pride as she waved goodbye to the Ishibashis and went off for a well-deserved shower.

She was almost to her dressing room when she looked up and saw him.

Oh no, she thought.

There, in their usual spot, sat Tsuruga-san, handsome as ever. He was looking at his phone with a pensive air, as if he were waiting for a call.

Guiltily, she remembered that he'd asked for some of her time earlier that day—but she'd had to rush off to Kimagure's taping and she hadn't had time to make arrangements with him. She would text him as soon as she got out of this suit—Bo simply had to get past him without him noticing. It was possible, surely. The hallways were perpendicular to each other—he was down the east-west corridor, she needed to get to the north wing. A simple matter of crossing the intersection, and then she'd be home free.

You can do this, she told herself. She waited until he was looking down at his phone—apparently at something that was making him smile fondly—and then made to dash across the hallway as quickly as possible.

SQUEAK!

Damn these squeaky chicken feet! Tired as she was, Kyoko had forgotten how loudly they squeaked when she ran. On an impulse, she turned her head to check if he'd noticed…only to meet his gaze head-on.

Even though she knew he couldn't see her, she blushed under Bo's head.

Instantly, he was up and on his feet. "BO!" she heard. She kept moving off, trying to get away—even though she knew by now that he'd catch up. He had that same, slightly desperate look on his face that he'd had the last time he'd caught her.

The last time he'd caught her, and she'd told him to confess.

"Bo, wait up!"

Soon, those large hands of his were on Bo's shoulder, and Kyoko knew she couldn't possibly go without at least acknowledging him.

"Yo. Tsuruga-san," she said, affecting the deeper voice that Bo used. "I am afraid I must—"

But he was smiling at her. Smiling so hard she choked on her excuse—he was so infuriatingly beautiful, sometimes. The born ladykiller strikes again, she thought.

"You were right," he said. He'd grabbed one of her wings and was holding onto it with feverish intensity.

"I was?" she asked, affecting puzzlement.

"You were," he responded. "About everything. I confessed—and—"

What do I say now!? She was in a panic. Painful as it was to think of Tsuruga Ren with anyone else—and most especially with Kimiko—it had been so much easier when she'd thought he was talking about someone else. She had intimate first-hand knowledge of that confession—heck, even now she still felt the burn of those lips on her finger. But no. She wasn't Kyoko, she was Bo, Tsuruga-san's…chicken-based love consultant. What would Bo say? she asked herself. She'd always tried to deepen her voice and affect a somewhat macho attitude when she spoke to Tsuruga-san as Bo. Shouldn't she do the same now?

Yes. That's what she would do. "Ah ha haha," she said, interrupting him. She took back the wing he'd grabbed and slapped his back like she'd seen salarymen do at the Darumaya, after they'd been drinking. He made a small oof sound as she knocked the wind out of him.

"Good job, Tsuruga-san! And did you manage to seduce her like I told you to?" He can never, ever ever ever ever EVER find out, she thought to herself. She thought she knew what mortification felt like before, but as it turned out, she had never even scratched the surface of that emotion. That hadn't been mortification. No, this was mortification. And guilt. And shame, and dread—all coupled with a healthy dose of surreality as a light blush appeared on the actor's features.

"Oh no," he told Bo. "I couldn't possibly take advantage of her like that." His blush was getting brighter—and Kyoko couldn't help but think he looked adorable. "Kyoko-chan deserves better than some cheap seduction," he told her. "And I would never forgive myself if…if…" He froze, gulped, and shut his mouth.

"If?" she prompted. Her heart was thumping for some reason. He'd called her Kyoko-chan, even though to her face and to their colleagues, she was still Mogami-san. It was as intoxicating as she thought it would be. She blushed. Her mind had chosen that moment to inconvenience her with the image of his shirtless chest underneath her as she straddled him as Setsu.

Was he thinking about that too?

He looked abashed. "Well, anyway, it's not about seducing her," he said.

Kyoko backed off. "Well, you seem very happy," she told him. It was true that he appeared to be calmer than most people would be after the past few weeks, but she'd learned to read his smiles. The old Tsuruga Ren could remain entirely stoic and expressionless when happy—but this new one couldn't entirely contain himself.

"I can't help it." The actor sat down on the bench. "My manager says I look like a pot that's spilling over. But she confessed to me too," he said. "How can I not be happy? But."

"But?" Kyoko said. Normally, Bo would likely have congratulated him on his conquest, made some remark about how it was obvious the girl he had feelings for would reciprocate them. But she just couldn't make herself say those things…not when she knew she was talking about herself. Tsuruga-san was wonderful, of course. But she didn't like being reminded that she'd fallen for him just like all of his other co-stars. "You can't be with her?"

"You always know what I'm about to say," he said. His face sobered. "And no, I can't. I told her that, too, and she accepted it."

"So what's the problem?"

"I…haven't told her some important things." The blush was gone now. Instead, he was looking pale.

"What do you mean?" she asked. She had a feeling this was about the darkness that came over him sometimes—the frozen state he'd gone into that day on the Dark Moon set, that night he'd found her as Cain and held her in his arms as he slept. But Bo, of course, wouldn't know any of those things. And so she asked, "Are you secretly married? Really some kind of spy?"

The face she'd grown to love so well cracked a tiny smile. "No." He sighed. "Though it might be easier if I was."

Underneath Bo's head, Kyoko stared. "I need to confess something to her," he said. "More than just my feelings. Especially now that I know how she feels. So she can…change her mind. When she finds out."

Change my mind? What could possibly possess her to change her mind? She looked over at him. He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. "And now you're waiting for Bo the chicken to give you advice," she said.

"What would you do?"

"Ever since we've met, Tsuruga-san, you've been so cryptic." Bo huffed and crossed his wings. "'I can't have anything precious here,'" he mocked. "'Even after she's older, I can't do anything.' But you've never actually told me. How bad can it be? You're the best actor of your generation. No matter what happened before—"

"I'm a murderer," he spat out.

Kyoko froze in her Bo suit. The word "murderer" echoed in her head. She remembered how he'd reacted to it when Murasame had accused him of being one. Her breath quickened as she remembered him fighting the other actor, fighting those men in the alleyway—she remembered the bloodlust that lurked inside him. This was the dark one—the one that had pinned her on the bed and rested his fingers on her bodice, who'd frightened her as he'd moved like a predator.

Is it possible? she asked herself. Possible, she concluded. But she had faith in him. She thought of the man who'd made that awful Oahu Omurice and choked it down…the man that Shachou had assigned her to as a life preserver…the one that had pledged to keep his promise, always. Was it possible he'd killed someone? Certainly. But her heart couldn't condemn him, not without knowing everything—not with all she already knew.

What would Bo say?! she thought frantically. She was still thinking when his voice interrupted her thoughts. "I've shocked you," he said.

"Yes." Bo paced back and forth. "But surely you'll tell me the rest of this story. I promise to withhold judgment, at least until you're done."

He stiffened, and Kyoko winced to see the tension in his shoulders. But he began speaking nonetheless. "When I was a kid, I got into a whole lot of trouble. There were these guys that kept coming after me."

"Sounds like it was self-defense," Bo interjected, but Ren just waved his hand.

"It wasn't. I didn't want to fight back at first, so for years I'd just…take it. And then one day they caught me in the alleyway and I…couldn't take it any more. I started beating them up. And I'd had a lot of training—I've been learning martial arts since I could walk."

Kyoko merely nodded. The way Ren fought was too instinctive, too skilled to be anything besides something he'd learned as a child. "I liked it," he said. "I wanted to hurt them—hurt them as much as they'd hurt me. And I knew I could do it, too. That night I had a pile of them, all groaning in the alleyway, and there was this guy—I was going to stomp his head in and kill him—" He closed his eyes, shaking his head at the memory. "But Rick—Rick came in and he stopped me. He was my best friend back then. He stopped me, and then Cedric—that's Cedric Bennett, by the way, the famous one—he ran away. He was the gang leader, and he ran away."

Tsuruga stopped and put his head in his hands. "I chased after him, and Rick chased after us, but a car hit Rick and he died."

He raised his face towards her, and Kyoko could see the turmoil on it. "I killed him," he said. "His fiance Tina was there, too. He died in her arms. I can still hear her calling me a murderer. I stole their future." He leaned his head back onto the wall and asked the empty air.

Kyoko kept her peace, but was indignant. Tsuruga-san hadn't killed anyone at all! What had happened to Rick was an accident! But clearly it had traumatized him—she knew all too well how badly the memories haunted him. What she wanted to do was comfort him. Even if it meant sleeping in his arms again, which, these days, had far greater implications than it had when he'd first done it. The guilt he'd carried all these years—hadn't anyone else told him it had been an accident? She knew how much it affected him, and yet…and yet no one had seen fit to try and absolve him of this misplaced guilt, and now he was being a drama queen about it.

"So long as I thought Kyoko-chan was indifferent, I thought I was safe," he continued.

"But she isn't."

"No."

"And you're afraid to tell her?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"As I see it, you're not a murderer," she told him. "It was tragic. But you didn't kill him."

"You think she'd forgive me?"

Bo slapped his back again with a felt-feathered wing. "You're so dramatic," she said. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

He looked at the chicken doubtfully. "Rick died," he said.

"And that's a terrible thing," Bo said. Kyoko was trying valiantly to keep her voice even and lighthearted, as a casual acquaintance and a disinterested third party. "But that doesn't mean you were the murderer. Surely someone else has told this to you? You've been sitting here for nearly a year thinking you weren't worthy? Because someone else ran over your best friend?"

Tsuruga looked over at her again, this time in disbelief. "What?" she asked.

"You don't think she'd run off screaming?"

"No. I really don't," Kyoko-as-Bo said honestly. It was a relief, honestly, to know this about him. Clearly he'd held onto this for far too long—had blamed himself—had been unable to talk about it. She herself could remember what it was like to want to punish the people who'd bullied her—she could remember how badly she wanted to hurt Shotaro in the days before. Vengeance for the sake of vengeance wasn't monstrous or inhuman. But perhaps she understood, now, a little better. She breathed a little sigh of relief.

But apparently, the confessions weren't quite done. "That isn't everything," he said.

"That's…not…everything?" she echoed. What else could there possibly be?

"It might be worse. Or not. But…I don't know how to tell her this."

Bo had started pacing back and forth again, agitated. "You really can't sit still for a second while I tell you my deepest secrets?" he said.

"Worse than your 'I am a not-really-murderer murderer' story?" she responded.

"She doesn't even know my real name."

That got her attention. "Does anyone?"

"No. Not in Japan," he said.

More clues. She'd known for a long time, now, that Tsuruga-san likely hadn't grown up in Japan. Wasn't the first time he'd spoken to Bo over a kanji he didn't know? Wasn't he constantly using those odd American gestures? "So you'll tell her."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"So you trust her enough to tell her you love her but not enough to tell your real name? Tsuruga, that's ridiculous." It was ridiculous. Kyoko was willing to wait until he was ready, of course, but she was insanely curious as to why.

"She'll never trust me again."

"What could your name possibly have to do with whether or not she trusts you?"

"Because I lied to her."

Kyoko felt an odd calm descend over her. A dark past was one thing—she knew who Tsuruga Ren was now, in the present day. Or at least she thought she did. But what did he lie about? A lie was intentional. A lie was a betrayal of trust.

"Well, not outright, I guess. But through omission."

"Go on," Bo said. "I'm listening."

"She thinks we met at LME."

"You didn't?" Kyoko's mind was starting to spin. What was he talking about?

"No. We met a long time ago. A very long time ago. She was only six. I was on vacation with my parents. She'd probably never seen anyone with blonde hair before—" He looked over at her again. "—and yes, I'm naturally blonde—so she thought I was a fairy." He sighed. "She might have forgiven me for that, but then…there was this time when we were on a shoot somewhere and I had to travel so they put me back in my original hair color and she recognized me right away—but I pretended I was a fairy—even though I stole a kiss—"

Kyoko was transfixed, her mind a maelstrom of confusion. Was she overjoyed? Was she furious? He was right—this was far, far worse than Rick's story. He couldn't have done anything about that—the past was the past, he was a teenager, it was a tragedy. But this? He'd known. He'd apparently known a long time. When did he know? And she'd told him all about Corn! He'd just…nodded his head and played along. Had even pretended to be concerned about whether or not the fairy would like him! Had he been playing her for a fool all along? He had stolen her first kiss! He'd kept pretending, even as she told him about it over dinner that night in Guam! What exactly had he been thinking?

She was furious. She was definitely furious.

"I wanted to tell her everything—"

"Then why didn't you, Corn?" She spat it out, the words cutting through the air like barbs.

She realized just what she'd done when she saw his eyes widen.

He stood, and she was frozen on the spot.

She was still frozen when his two hands made their way around her headpiece and twisted it off, and then they were looking at each other, all pretenses gone between them.

"Bo," he said. He was white, his mouth pressed into a thin line. She could feel his shock give rise to his anger, and for a second, she felt ashamed of herself. What right did she have to call him out on not telling her who Corn was, when she was here listening to his troubles under false pretenses?

No. If anyone had a right to be angry here, it would be her. She'd done everything she could to avoid him as Bo—it was him who kept seeking her out. And she'd never played with his emotions the way he'd done with hers.

"Corn," she responded.

They were still standing there, staring at each other, when Hikaru Ishibashi rounded the corner. The whistle died on his lips as he saw the two of them, the tension between them thick enough to see.

Everything had just gotten more complicated.

=.=.=.=.=

Years later, they'd remember this day as the day they'd truly begun their relationship. It had taken a lot of talking, a lot of trusting and learning, but by the time they kissed at the altar, there was no doubt in either of their hearts about the other.

They really did live happily ever after.

=.=.=.=.=

Author's Note: Yeah, so, totally standard confession scene. I hope it was enjoyable. I think this might be my third confession? There's so many fic versions of this reveal. Sometimes, and I get kinda twisted around trying to figure out if 1) the premise is worthy enough to have to type up the Rick story *again* for the umpteenth time, 2) whether or not someone else has written it and my addled brain just can't remember. I'm so tired of reminding Kuon that he didn't actually throw Rick in front of that car.

My intent is to place this during the 'practice for Route' portion of the manga.