Red + Yellow
Colour Theory
Johnny's Entertainment
PG, humor, fluff
Characters/Groups: MassuPi
Summary: Yamapi goes shopping with Massu. He really should have known better.
Notes: Fic for rockthecliche.
Are you free today?
Yamapi squints crossly at the message that woke him up. Whoever was mailing him at the crack of dawn (10 o’clock, actually), Yamapi only has resentment for them in his heart. He scrolls down and looks blearily at the sender’s name.
Massu.
He groans. Knowing Massu, the other man would take it to heart if he doesn’t answer. So he types up a hurried message - something like “it’s my free day today; sleeping” - presses “send”, and promptly goes back to sleep.
-
It’s mh frddc ay toady; pleering.
Massu stares at the reply, confused. Is this supposed to mean something? He furrows his brow, his tongue lightly touching one corner of his mouth in concentration, and types another message.
-
“What the hell?”
-
I AM QNEERIMH.
Massu wonders if this is code.
-
Yamapi glares at his phone. For some reason, Massu isn’t getting the point. Yamapi punches in the other’s number with a vengeance.
“Yamashita-kun!” Massu’s voice is high with surprise and obvious pleasure when he answers, and Yamapi’s complaint about being disturbed by a series of seemingly pointless texts dies on his lips. “Good morning!”
He grunts in response.
“You didn’t have to call. I was just wondering if you were free today!”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why were you wondering?”
“No reason!”
Yamapi swallows a sigh. “This has to stop.”
“What does?”
“You texting me if I’m free and then not following it up with anything!”
There’s a pause. “Then...would you like to go out and eat?”
Yamapi stops and thinks about it. He hasn’t seen the other members in a while (and they’re not the other members anymore, his mind reminds him). But it’s Massu actually asking...
In the end, his stomach makes the decision for him by grumbling - loudly. He throws off the covers. “Yeah, okay.”
-
It only takes half a giant cup of coffee and half a club sandwich to wake Yamapi up the rest of the way, by which time he’s a bit less grumpy and a bit more coherent. He even laughs when Massu shows him his unintelligible mails.
“Sorry about that,” he says lightly.
Massu shrugs and smiles a dimpled smile. “Hey... This is the first time in a long time we’ve gone out together. Outside of work, I mean.”
Yamapi fidgets a little at the mention of work. “You’re right,” is all he says.
“We should celebrate!”
“Why?”
Massu shrugs again. “Just because.”
“We can’t celebrate just because.”
“Well, you said you’re free today. All day? This isn’t like your other ‘free days’ when you have a photoshoot in the afternoon, is it?”
“No. I’m free all day.”
“Then we’ll celebrate that.”
Yamapi feels slightly befuddled. Maybe he just really needs more sleep. Maybe this is a dream. He’s not sure why Massu has asked him out, why he can’t seem to focus, and why he’s even come. “What should we do?”
Massu brightens, as if he’s been waiting for Yamapi to ask that all along. “Let’s go shopping!”
-
Yamapi has vague memories of shopping with Massu and Koyama in the past. He remembers a lot of muffled giggling and struggles to keep a straight face with Koyama while Massu tried on increasingly absurd combinations.
But he also remembers a strange pang of...something (envy? admiration? guilt for laughing?) with every multi-coloured scarf and polka-dotted jacket Massu had tried on. Because somehow the latter made everything look good on him.
Massu suddenly stops in the middle of the street, yanking Yamapi to a halt by the back of his white t-shirt (which reads “Hot Stuf”, misspelling and all).
Yamapi is halfway through the doorway of one of his favourite designer stores. “What is it?”
“Not here, Yamashita-kun.”
He looks up at the shop’s sign, confused. “Not here? But I kind of want new jeans-”
“You need new jeans that actually look new.”
“Hey!” he begins, affronted at the apparent criticism of his fashion sense.
But Massu ignores his protest and proceeds to drag him - backwards - down the street, one hand still clenched firmly around a fistful of Yamapi’s shirt.
-
Massu eyes Yamapi critically. The other man has on a lime green hoodie and a tee with broad black, yellow, and purple stripes. The ensemble oddly goes well with the look of resignation on his face. “You look very nice, Yamashita-kun.”
“Uh-huh,” comes the absent reply.
“But you need a scarf,” Massu says, and bustles out of the fitting room, taking with him a pile of rejected hoodies.
“Wait! I liked that one with the sequins-”
“It’s black,” Massu says, letting the door fall shut behind him.
“But-”
“Black jackets are boring,” Massu says decisively.
“This t-shirt you just gave me has black on it!” Yamapi shouts through the fitting room door.
“That’s a t-shirt. Different rules apply.”
There’s an odd sound from back inside and Massu steps closer. “What did you say?”
“...Never mind.”
-
“I don’t think bright, lemon yellow shorts really scream me, Massu.” (They scream something but Yamapi isn’t sure what. Sounds of pain, probably.)
“But it looks great on you with that shirt, Yamashita-kun!”
“Stop smiling at me like that, damn it.”
“Would you like a different pair of shorts, sir?”
“...No.”
-
Yamapi’s lost track of what he’s bought. He’s pretty sure that the purple and green plaid pants are Massu’s - or at least he hopes they are - but somehow the lime green hoodie and yellow shorts are his own. At least he managed to throw a couple of normal-looking shirts in the mix.
“Well, I guess we can get some jeans now,” Massu says, looking through their packages, satisfied.
“Back at-”
“No,” comes the quick reply. “It’s a novel idea to you, I’m sure, but not all pants need to look like they used to belong to alligator victims.”
“Ha-ha,” Yamapi says, trailing Massu out of the department store. “Massu...”
“What?”
“Why are we here?”
“We’re buying clothes.”
“Yes, but...why?”
“Because we can’t walk around naked?”
“Just forget I asked.”
-
Yamapi almost breathes a sigh of relief when he tries on his first pair of jeans and it’s not a violent shade of orange or heavily patterned. For some reason, Massu has decided to use Yamapi as some sort of mannequin, dressing him up and critiquing his look. And for some other reason he can’t quite figure out yet, Yamapi has let him. Now he’s throwing pair after pair of pants at Yamapi over the fitting room door.
When he said we were going shopping, I assumed it was for him, he thinks dryly, glancing at the small stack of bags in one corner. He’s not really the type of person to go on clothing sprees, but today, every time Massu said something looked good on him, he found himself paying for the damn thing.
I shouldn’t let him say anything. Or smile at me. Or just generally look pleased when he looks at me.
There’s a knock on the door. “Yamashita-kun, are the jeans okay?”
“They’re fine,” he calls back.
“Can I see?”
“You don’t have to see,” he says hastily. “You picked them. None of them are ripped or anything.”
“Yes, but-”
“I can pick jeans without your advice, Massu,” Yamapi insists, then winces when his voice comes out harsher than he had intended.
“Oh. Okay,” Massu says, sounding forlorn.
Great. “I didn’t mean - ow, damn it - oh.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing. I’m just, uh-”
“Are you all right?”
Yamapi leans his forehead heavily against the door. “I’m stuck,” he hisses.
“You’re what?” Massu responds loudly.
“I’m stuck!” he hisses even more intensely.
“I can’t hear you!”
Yamapi sighs and pulls the door open partway, just wide enough to pull Massu through the gap, and shut the door behind him.
“You’ve gotten fat,” Massu says once he’s inside and realizes what the problem is.
“It’s not me. It’s the zip!”
“If you say so, Yamashita-kun.”
“I do say so! Will you just help me?”
Massu crouches down on one knee and squints at Yamapi’s zipper.
And then Yamapi realizes that he now has someone on their knees staring at his crotch.
“Uh, you know what? I think I can figure this out on my own-”
But Massu is already tugging at the stubborn zip. “It’s all crooked,” he says. “Keep still.”
This is nothing, Yamapi tells himself, his fingers tightening on the hem of his t-shirt as he holds it up and out of the way. I’m in Johnny’s for god’s sake. We’ve seen each other wearing less in dressing rooms. And naked in the bath. Yeah. This is not awkward or weird at all.
“Ah...” Massu says. “There’s a loose thread that got caught--”
“W-wait! What are you doing?”
Massu freezes, one hand halfway inside the jeans. “What?”
“You don’t just put your hand down someone else’s pants!” Yamapi whispers furiously.
“You said to help you!”
“I changed my mind. Really. I can do this on my own.”
“But it’s just this thread-”
“Massu, please get your hand out of my pants. Right now.”
Massu stands up and steps back. Yamapi narrows his eyes at him before turning around to fix the zipper himself. “For someone whose idea of group bonding is soaking in the bath together, you’re awfully prudish.”
“Shut up.”
-
“That’s it. That’s enough. I’m done,” Yamapi announces as he and Massu walk out of the shop. “And I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since we had breakfast.”
“Lunch,” Massu corrects with a cough.
“Whatever.”
“I know a good yakiniku place not far from my house,” Massu says.
Yamapi considers this. Beef and beer sound like an excellent way to end the day. He deserves it, after all that Massu has put him through. Besides, he’s in no particular hurry to get home and review his purchases so he could be properly horrified by how much today has cost him (and how much he’ll probably regret one or two pieces of clothing).
“But I guess you want to eat at home,” Massu says, and Yamapi briefly wonders if Massu really means to sound so deflated or if he’s just imagining things.
“Eating by myself is too miserable a way to end the day,” Yamapi says at last. “Let’s go.”
-
“Excuse me, miss. Another beer over here!”
“Massu. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk.”
-
Yamapi gets really talkative when he’s drunk. And heavy, Massu notes, half-dropping and half-throwing Yamapi onto the couch in the middle of his living room. Fortunately, his family’s on holiday and are not likely to mind having a dead-drunk idol passed out on the sofa.
At least, Massu hopes he passes out. As it is, he’s still rambling on about the constellation Orion.
“...and there’s a whole nebula there on the belt thingy, you know. Of course, it’s not just there on the belt because it’s several light years deep, but you know, right? Do you think I could have made a good astronaut, Massu?”
“Sure,” Massu says easily. “Yamashita-kun can do anything.”
“No,” he replies, sounding strangely sad. “Not anything. I don’t think I can be a clown. I’m not funny enough.”
“You’re plenty funny.”
“No one ever gets my jokes. And I don’t know how to juggle. But I guess someone can always teach me. Do you know how to juggle, Massu?”
“Er...”
“Do you have food? I’m hungry. I told you I could have eaten another plate of sushi. Speaking of, aren’t you sad the tuna population is dwindling?”
“I’ll go check the refrigerator to see if we have anything,” Massu says hastily.
There’s nothing in the fridge but half a cupcake smothered in cream and Massu’s hand is halfway to it when he remembers that Yamapi hates cream. He retreats to the living room, ready to break the bad news, when he realizes that the room has fallen silent and Yamapi is fast asleep.
-
“Where the hell am I?”
-
“...And where the fuck are my clothes?”
-
“What do you mean you threw all my clothes in the washer?”
Massu looks slightly sheepish, fingers moving restlessly on the coffee table. “They stank of beer,” he says.
“But what am I going to wear?” Yamapi asks, aware that he sounds like a spoiled child.
Massu points to the small mound of bags of brand-new clothing dumped by a wing chair.
“You have got to be kidding me! Wait-Okay. At least I have jeans-”
“Um. They’re in the wash, too, actually.”
Yamapi gives him a blank, uncomprehending stare.
“Well, I couldn’t load a single pair of jeans in the wash. It’s not very eco.”
“Who cares?”
“The tuna care.”
“What are you talking about?”
Massu blinks and looks upset, and Yamapi realizes that he’s shouting. He sighs and forces himself to calm down.
“You’re washing everything?”
Massu nods.
“Okay. Okay. I guess...I guess I should thank you. You’re only trying to help, right?”
Massu nods again.
Yamapi sighs. “Hand me the yellow shorts, then.”
-
Yamapi still has a problem. Every single shirt he bought the day before clashed horribly with the shorts. I should really have known better than to shop with Massu, he thinks, holding up a green checked shirt. Maybe this will do...
“Yamashita-kun, I have something better than that,” Massu says suddenly. He reaches for a bag and starts rummaging in it.
“Massu, that’s the stuff you bought.”
“It’s okay. I can swap you for that checked shirt. I like that shade of green.”
Yamapi wonders whether this is good news or not until Massu pulls out a perfectly normal red tennis shirt. It’s not even a bright red shirt. It’s a red that’s deep and sober without being too dark. With any luck, it would actually go with the shorts.
Yamapi grabs it and yanks it on before Massu can change his mind.
“Red and yellow go well together,” Massu remarks after a moment which they had both spent staring at Yamapi’s body.
Yamapi raises his head. He feels kind of funny when Massu says that. And then Massu smiles and Yamapi finds a little bubble of laughter welling up inside him. He shakes his head and grins back. “Well. I guess sometimes they do.”
-
“So you spent all day with Yamashita-kun?”
“Well, only from lunch time that day until breakfast the next,” Massu says into the phone, folding Yamapi’s jeans and sliding them into a paper bag.
“And did you actually tell him? About your...feelings?”
Massu pauses. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
Shige snorts on the other end of the line. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”
“It’s okay. I can wait. I have to go, Shige. I told Yamashita-kun I’d bring his clean clothes over later today.”
“What are you doing with Yamashita’s-Never mind. I probably wouldn’t want to know.”
“Probably not,” he agrees cheerfully, just to annoy Shige, and hangs up.
Massu smiles fondly down at the paper bag. He wonders how Yamapi feels about orange. There’s a pair of awesome sneakers at Nike that are just the right color.
Johnny's Entertainment
PG, humor, fluff
Characters/Groups: MassuPi
Summary: Yamapi goes shopping with Massu. He really should have known better.
Notes: Fic for rockthecliche.
Are you free today?
Yamapi squints crossly at the message that woke him up. Whoever was mailing him at the crack of dawn (10 o’clock, actually), Yamapi only has resentment for them in his heart. He scrolls down and looks blearily at the sender’s name.
Massu.
He groans. Knowing Massu, the other man would take it to heart if he doesn’t answer. So he types up a hurried message - something like “it’s my free day today; sleeping” - presses “send”, and promptly goes back to sleep.
-
It’s mh frddc ay toady; pleering.
Massu stares at the reply, confused. Is this supposed to mean something? He furrows his brow, his tongue lightly touching one corner of his mouth in concentration, and types another message.
-
“What the hell?”
-
I AM QNEERIMH.
Massu wonders if this is code.
-
Yamapi glares at his phone. For some reason, Massu isn’t getting the point. Yamapi punches in the other’s number with a vengeance.
“Yamashita-kun!” Massu’s voice is high with surprise and obvious pleasure when he answers, and Yamapi’s complaint about being disturbed by a series of seemingly pointless texts dies on his lips. “Good morning!”
He grunts in response.
“You didn’t have to call. I was just wondering if you were free today!”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
“Why were you wondering?”
“No reason!”
Yamapi swallows a sigh. “This has to stop.”
“What does?”
“You texting me if I’m free and then not following it up with anything!”
There’s a pause. “Then...would you like to go out and eat?”
Yamapi stops and thinks about it. He hasn’t seen the other members in a while (and they’re not the other members anymore, his mind reminds him). But it’s Massu actually asking...
In the end, his stomach makes the decision for him by grumbling - loudly. He throws off the covers. “Yeah, okay.”
-
It only takes half a giant cup of coffee and half a club sandwich to wake Yamapi up the rest of the way, by which time he’s a bit less grumpy and a bit more coherent. He even laughs when Massu shows him his unintelligible mails.
“Sorry about that,” he says lightly.
Massu shrugs and smiles a dimpled smile. “Hey... This is the first time in a long time we’ve gone out together. Outside of work, I mean.”
Yamapi fidgets a little at the mention of work. “You’re right,” is all he says.
“We should celebrate!”
“Why?”
Massu shrugs again. “Just because.”
“We can’t celebrate just because.”
“Well, you said you’re free today. All day? This isn’t like your other ‘free days’ when you have a photoshoot in the afternoon, is it?”
“No. I’m free all day.”
“Then we’ll celebrate that.”
Yamapi feels slightly befuddled. Maybe he just really needs more sleep. Maybe this is a dream. He’s not sure why Massu has asked him out, why he can’t seem to focus, and why he’s even come. “What should we do?”
Massu brightens, as if he’s been waiting for Yamapi to ask that all along. “Let’s go shopping!”
-
Yamapi has vague memories of shopping with Massu and Koyama in the past. He remembers a lot of muffled giggling and struggles to keep a straight face with Koyama while Massu tried on increasingly absurd combinations.
But he also remembers a strange pang of...something (envy? admiration? guilt for laughing?) with every multi-coloured scarf and polka-dotted jacket Massu had tried on. Because somehow the latter made everything look good on him.
Massu suddenly stops in the middle of the street, yanking Yamapi to a halt by the back of his white t-shirt (which reads “Hot Stuf”, misspelling and all).
Yamapi is halfway through the doorway of one of his favourite designer stores. “What is it?”
“Not here, Yamashita-kun.”
He looks up at the shop’s sign, confused. “Not here? But I kind of want new jeans-”
“You need new jeans that actually look new.”
“Hey!” he begins, affronted at the apparent criticism of his fashion sense.
But Massu ignores his protest and proceeds to drag him - backwards - down the street, one hand still clenched firmly around a fistful of Yamapi’s shirt.
-
Massu eyes Yamapi critically. The other man has on a lime green hoodie and a tee with broad black, yellow, and purple stripes. The ensemble oddly goes well with the look of resignation on his face. “You look very nice, Yamashita-kun.”
“Uh-huh,” comes the absent reply.
“But you need a scarf,” Massu says, and bustles out of the fitting room, taking with him a pile of rejected hoodies.
“Wait! I liked that one with the sequins-”
“It’s black,” Massu says, letting the door fall shut behind him.
“But-”
“Black jackets are boring,” Massu says decisively.
“This t-shirt you just gave me has black on it!” Yamapi shouts through the fitting room door.
“That’s a t-shirt. Different rules apply.”
There’s an odd sound from back inside and Massu steps closer. “What did you say?”
“...Never mind.”
-
“I don’t think bright, lemon yellow shorts really scream me, Massu.” (They scream something but Yamapi isn’t sure what. Sounds of pain, probably.)
“But it looks great on you with that shirt, Yamashita-kun!”
“Stop smiling at me like that, damn it.”
“Would you like a different pair of shorts, sir?”
“...No.”
-
Yamapi’s lost track of what he’s bought. He’s pretty sure that the purple and green plaid pants are Massu’s - or at least he hopes they are - but somehow the lime green hoodie and yellow shorts are his own. At least he managed to throw a couple of normal-looking shirts in the mix.
“Well, I guess we can get some jeans now,” Massu says, looking through their packages, satisfied.
“Back at-”
“No,” comes the quick reply. “It’s a novel idea to you, I’m sure, but not all pants need to look like they used to belong to alligator victims.”
“Ha-ha,” Yamapi says, trailing Massu out of the department store. “Massu...”
“What?”
“Why are we here?”
“We’re buying clothes.”
“Yes, but...why?”
“Because we can’t walk around naked?”
“Just forget I asked.”
-
Yamapi almost breathes a sigh of relief when he tries on his first pair of jeans and it’s not a violent shade of orange or heavily patterned. For some reason, Massu has decided to use Yamapi as some sort of mannequin, dressing him up and critiquing his look. And for some other reason he can’t quite figure out yet, Yamapi has let him. Now he’s throwing pair after pair of pants at Yamapi over the fitting room door.
When he said we were going shopping, I assumed it was for him, he thinks dryly, glancing at the small stack of bags in one corner. He’s not really the type of person to go on clothing sprees, but today, every time Massu said something looked good on him, he found himself paying for the damn thing.
I shouldn’t let him say anything. Or smile at me. Or just generally look pleased when he looks at me.
There’s a knock on the door. “Yamashita-kun, are the jeans okay?”
“They’re fine,” he calls back.
“Can I see?”
“You don’t have to see,” he says hastily. “You picked them. None of them are ripped or anything.”
“Yes, but-”
“I can pick jeans without your advice, Massu,” Yamapi insists, then winces when his voice comes out harsher than he had intended.
“Oh. Okay,” Massu says, sounding forlorn.
Great. “I didn’t mean - ow, damn it - oh.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing, nothing. I’m just, uh-”
“Are you all right?”
Yamapi leans his forehead heavily against the door. “I’m stuck,” he hisses.
“You’re what?” Massu responds loudly.
“I’m stuck!” he hisses even more intensely.
“I can’t hear you!”
Yamapi sighs and pulls the door open partway, just wide enough to pull Massu through the gap, and shut the door behind him.
“You’ve gotten fat,” Massu says once he’s inside and realizes what the problem is.
“It’s not me. It’s the zip!”
“If you say so, Yamashita-kun.”
“I do say so! Will you just help me?”
Massu crouches down on one knee and squints at Yamapi’s zipper.
And then Yamapi realizes that he now has someone on their knees staring at his crotch.
“Uh, you know what? I think I can figure this out on my own-”
But Massu is already tugging at the stubborn zip. “It’s all crooked,” he says. “Keep still.”
This is nothing, Yamapi tells himself, his fingers tightening on the hem of his t-shirt as he holds it up and out of the way. I’m in Johnny’s for god’s sake. We’ve seen each other wearing less in dressing rooms. And naked in the bath. Yeah. This is not awkward or weird at all.
“Ah...” Massu says. “There’s a loose thread that got caught--”
“W-wait! What are you doing?”
Massu freezes, one hand halfway inside the jeans. “What?”
“You don’t just put your hand down someone else’s pants!” Yamapi whispers furiously.
“You said to help you!”
“I changed my mind. Really. I can do this on my own.”
“But it’s just this thread-”
“Massu, please get your hand out of my pants. Right now.”
Massu stands up and steps back. Yamapi narrows his eyes at him before turning around to fix the zipper himself. “For someone whose idea of group bonding is soaking in the bath together, you’re awfully prudish.”
“Shut up.”
-
“That’s it. That’s enough. I’m done,” Yamapi announces as he and Massu walk out of the shop. “And I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten anything since we had breakfast.”
“Lunch,” Massu corrects with a cough.
“Whatever.”
“I know a good yakiniku place not far from my house,” Massu says.
Yamapi considers this. Beef and beer sound like an excellent way to end the day. He deserves it, after all that Massu has put him through. Besides, he’s in no particular hurry to get home and review his purchases so he could be properly horrified by how much today has cost him (and how much he’ll probably regret one or two pieces of clothing).
“But I guess you want to eat at home,” Massu says, and Yamapi briefly wonders if Massu really means to sound so deflated or if he’s just imagining things.
“Eating by myself is too miserable a way to end the day,” Yamapi says at last. “Let’s go.”
-
“Excuse me, miss. Another beer over here!”
“Massu. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk.”
-
Yamapi gets really talkative when he’s drunk. And heavy, Massu notes, half-dropping and half-throwing Yamapi onto the couch in the middle of his living room. Fortunately, his family’s on holiday and are not likely to mind having a dead-drunk idol passed out on the sofa.
At least, Massu hopes he passes out. As it is, he’s still rambling on about the constellation Orion.
“...and there’s a whole nebula there on the belt thingy, you know. Of course, it’s not just there on the belt because it’s several light years deep, but you know, right? Do you think I could have made a good astronaut, Massu?”
“Sure,” Massu says easily. “Yamashita-kun can do anything.”
“No,” he replies, sounding strangely sad. “Not anything. I don’t think I can be a clown. I’m not funny enough.”
“You’re plenty funny.”
“No one ever gets my jokes. And I don’t know how to juggle. But I guess someone can always teach me. Do you know how to juggle, Massu?”
“Er...”
“Do you have food? I’m hungry. I told you I could have eaten another plate of sushi. Speaking of, aren’t you sad the tuna population is dwindling?”
“I’ll go check the refrigerator to see if we have anything,” Massu says hastily.
There’s nothing in the fridge but half a cupcake smothered in cream and Massu’s hand is halfway to it when he remembers that Yamapi hates cream. He retreats to the living room, ready to break the bad news, when he realizes that the room has fallen silent and Yamapi is fast asleep.
-
“Where the hell am I?”
-
“...And where the fuck are my clothes?”
-
“What do you mean you threw all my clothes in the washer?”
Massu looks slightly sheepish, fingers moving restlessly on the coffee table. “They stank of beer,” he says.
“But what am I going to wear?” Yamapi asks, aware that he sounds like a spoiled child.
Massu points to the small mound of bags of brand-new clothing dumped by a wing chair.
“You have got to be kidding me! Wait-Okay. At least I have jeans-”
“Um. They’re in the wash, too, actually.”
Yamapi gives him a blank, uncomprehending stare.
“Well, I couldn’t load a single pair of jeans in the wash. It’s not very eco.”
“Who cares?”
“The tuna care.”
“What are you talking about?”
Massu blinks and looks upset, and Yamapi realizes that he’s shouting. He sighs and forces himself to calm down.
“You’re washing everything?”
Massu nods.
“Okay. Okay. I guess...I guess I should thank you. You’re only trying to help, right?”
Massu nods again.
Yamapi sighs. “Hand me the yellow shorts, then.”
-
Yamapi still has a problem. Every single shirt he bought the day before clashed horribly with the shorts. I should really have known better than to shop with Massu, he thinks, holding up a green checked shirt. Maybe this will do...
“Yamashita-kun, I have something better than that,” Massu says suddenly. He reaches for a bag and starts rummaging in it.
“Massu, that’s the stuff you bought.”
“It’s okay. I can swap you for that checked shirt. I like that shade of green.”
Yamapi wonders whether this is good news or not until Massu pulls out a perfectly normal red tennis shirt. It’s not even a bright red shirt. It’s a red that’s deep and sober without being too dark. With any luck, it would actually go with the shorts.
Yamapi grabs it and yanks it on before Massu can change his mind.
“Red and yellow go well together,” Massu remarks after a moment which they had both spent staring at Yamapi’s body.
Yamapi raises his head. He feels kind of funny when Massu says that. And then Massu smiles and Yamapi finds a little bubble of laughter welling up inside him. He shakes his head and grins back. “Well. I guess sometimes they do.”
-
“So you spent all day with Yamashita-kun?”
“Well, only from lunch time that day until breakfast the next,” Massu says into the phone, folding Yamapi’s jeans and sliding them into a paper bag.
“And did you actually tell him? About your...feelings?”
Massu pauses. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”
Shige snorts on the other end of the line. “I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”
“It’s okay. I can wait. I have to go, Shige. I told Yamashita-kun I’d bring his clean clothes over later today.”
“What are you doing with Yamashita’s-Never mind. I probably wouldn’t want to know.”
“Probably not,” he agrees cheerfully, just to annoy Shige, and hangs up.
Massu smiles fondly down at the paper bag. He wonders how Yamapi feels about orange. There’s a pair of awesome sneakers at Nike that are just the right color.