Things had been going well with Kyo. Most of Iori's previous relationships lasted two weeks at most, and the one long-term relationship he'd had ended poorly. The bitter part of him was doubtful that this one would last. Kyo seemed too good to be true. But Iori squashed those doubts down, and tried to focus on other things.
Like beating the shit out of the person in front of him.
"Out of my way, Red. We have to set up. Wouldn't want me to ruin that pretty face of yours, would you?"
Iori growls at the man in front of him. This was the fourth fucking time within the hour that he'd already told the idiot to fuck off, that this was no longer his band's show, and Iori's band was booked for tonight. The other members of his band were hiding behind him, letting him handle the situation. They were supposed to start ten minutes ago, but the trio had burst in again and interrupted their last minute preparations.
"I already told you," Iori says through gritted teeth, "fuck off, leave us alone, and we don't care that they accidentally booked you for tonight. That's not our fucking problem, we booked this gig first," he clenches his fists and leans in until his nose is almost touching the other man's.
"Yashiro, what's taking so long? Are we playing or not?" The woman behind him– Shermie, if Iori remembers correctly– grabs Yashiro's arm and squeezes it.
Yashiro glances at her and then goes back to Iori. "We're playing as soon as this fucker lets me through. Listen dude, I really don't wanna use force, but you're not giving me much of a choice."
Iori practically screams in frustration. Ren let out a startled gasp, and Iori feels a bit bad, but mostly angry. "Just come back another night! They offered to let you play tomorrow, why can't you fucking do that?!"
"Because tomorrow is my spa night with Shermie and I can't reschedule!" Yashiro throws his arms up in exasperation. "It took six months to book an appointment at that fucking place, and I'm not–"
"I don't give a flying fuck about your spa day! Go to hell! We were supposed to start fifteen fucking minutes ago!"
Yashiro pushes him with one large hand and Iori stumbles back.
"Look, I said I didn't wanna use force–"
Iori's fist meets his gut before he can finish that sentence. The backstage area plunges into chaos as Yashiro and Iori tumble across the floor. Yashiro's fist collides with his face, but Iori doesn't back down. He manages to sling his arm across Yashiro's neck from behind and pulls him into a chokehold. Yashiro bites his arm, and Iori screeches as he tries to tug his expensive jacket free.
"Hey, Yagami!" A voice calls. Both Yashiro and Iori pause, looking up at the source.
It's Kyo.
"Uh… Yagami?" Kyo's eyebrows draw together in confusion as he takes in the scene. Iori removes himself from the white-haired bastard underneath him and stands up.
"Hi," Iori mumbles.
"What's going on?"
Yashiro stands up quickly, his face red with indignation. "Oh, I'll tell you what's going on! Red here won't let us fucking play even though we're booked for tonight 'cause apparently, there was a mix-up or whatever, but we're going to fucking play tonight even if I have to break all the bones in your fucking–"
"Yashiro," a quiet voice pops up behind Iori. The redhead jumps slightly, not having expected it. "We should go. Someone called the cops."
Yashiro's face pales, and within seconds, he grabs his guitar and races out the door.
Shermie and the boy turn to leave when Izumi stops them (Iori had forgotten that his bandmates were still there– they all look rather stricken). "Excuse me," she says, "did someone actually call the cops?"
"No," the boy says, "I just want to go home. And Yashiro is being annoying. We can come back another day."
"Chris, don't be rude," Shermie nudges him. "Though, I agree, Yashiro is being annoying." She looks at Iori– or at least, he thinks she does. It's hard to tell with the way her hair falls over her eyes. "Sorry about that, handsome. I think he got a bit jealous because I said you're cute, and if Yashiro and I weren't already together, well…" she giggles a bit.
Iori stops breathing for a moment, his face contorting in horror.
"Hey, if Yashiro is okay with a third, I'll let you know, mmkay?" Shermie traces his exposed chest with a finger. Iori makes a strangled noise and smacks her hand away.
He backs away slowly. And then breaks into a sprint.
"Oh… did I scare him? It was just a joke," Shermie pouts slightly.
"Shermie," Chris lets out an exasperated sigh, "you can't– actually, you know what? I'm done. Let's go before Yashiro figures out the cops aren't here."
In the restroom, Iori splashes cold water on his face, even though he'd spent so much time on his makeup. He shudders a bit, trying not to throw up as he recalls the way Shermie touched him. And she did it in front of his boyfriend, too! Iori looks at himself in the mirror. He looks… like a mess, with mascara dripping down his face.
"Iori?" Kyo's voice comes from behind the door. "You in there?"
"Yes," Iori sighs, grabbing a few paper towels to pat his face dry.
"Hi," Kyo opens the door. "So… d'you wanna explain that, or…?"
Iori sighs again, drawing it out this time, before explaining everything that had led him to this point. Kyo is quiet for a bit, looking around awkwardly.
"You're a little bruised," Kyo cups his face gently, and Iori notices purple blooming across his cheek in the mirror. He grimaces as Kyo brushes his thumb over it. "Sorry," the brunette mumbles. He leans in and presses his lips below the bruise.
"Better?"
Iori thinks for a moment.
"No," he says, "but mentally, I feel better."
"Good," Kyo chuckles.
A knock at the door. Probably Izumi or Daisuke.
"Yagami? Are you in there?" It's Daisuke. Iori opens the door and steps out to talk to him, Kyo following behind him.
"Are we still performing?"
"Well, we can, but… your face…" Daisuke gives him a worried look. Iori shrugs.
"I've been through worse. I'll just put more makeup on and then we can start."
Iori desperately hopes that Yashiro doesn't come back, because someone might actually have to call the police in the event that he stabs the idiot.