Fic ~ A Noisy Shop Assistant And Jun Worries
And so, with one job interview under my belt so far this week (and one accompanying job offer, YAY) It is Tuesday, and time to post the next part of this marathon story of secrets and sex. This time, we switch gears to follow Matsumoto and encounter some high tension suspense on his part. A frantic Jun is on a mission of his own….
*Cue dramatic music*
Title: Recoil (Chapter Four ~ Guardian)
Series Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Smut
Characters: Arashi
Word Count: 2,900
Type: Multi-Chapter/Series
Summary: A mysterious phone call puts Jun on full alert and forces him to take action. But what does he plan to do and why is he haunted by images of violence and death?
Disclaimer: I own nothing dammit!
Progress:
Prologue - Precedent - HERE
Chapter One - Duality - HERE
Chapter Two - Implications - HERE
Chapter Three - Complications - HERE
Recoil
Chapter Four ~ Guardian
The day was bitterly cold despite the clear blue skies and the bright midday sunshine. Pulling his coat tight around his lanky frame, Matsumoto Jun took refuge from the chill and ducked into one of his preferred shopping establishments. With nothing better to do, he browsed aimlessly for some time. It was rare for the active young Idol to spend his day off alone; he usually made plans of some sort.
Today, however, the man had woken up that morning with the inescapable urge to do nothing. To that end, Jun had actually cancelled an arrangement to visit a couple of old friends and had lolled around at home instead. Yet, by mid-morning, he had grown tired of his own miserable company and bored by the lifeless walls of his own home. Therefore Matsumoto had decided to brave the frosty day and take a long walk to clear his head.
So far, the results were questionable at best.
As he strolled around the store, lost in thought, he did not notice the approach of the young sales assistant. “Is there anything I can help you with today sir?” The customary question was directed at him in an strange, coquettish tone that startled him from his reprieve.
Turning towards the woman, Matsumoto declined the offer. He could tell by the way she stood just a little too close and the star-struck gleam in her overly made-up eyes that the woman knew exactly whom he was. Her reaction was nothing new, of course, but the popular Idol had shopped in this store for years and most of the employees were used to his presence. So when the woman continued to hover at his side after he had effectively dismissed her, Jun began to feel a little uncomfortable.
Carefully schooling his expression to appear neutral, Matsumoto attempted to handle the social minefield tactically. “Well… if there’s nothing else…?” He hinted diplomatically.
The inexperienced sales assistant seemed to miss the verbal cue. “You’re my favourite!” She blurted in a giddy whisper.
Jun covered his shock with a quick nod and a tight smile. “Ah- Thank you.”
“All my friends like you too.” She continued in an excited rush, completely heedless of her unprofessional conduct. “And my sister and mother. You’re really popular with women, huh? Ooh, everyone will be so jealous when I tell them that I met Matsujun today!”
The young man was desperately searching for an excuse to escape when he was saved by the timely trill of his cellular phone. Uttering a silent prayer of thanks for small miracles, Matsumoto dug the device out of his pocket. “I have to take this.” He said quickly. Already hurrying to the exit, he did not waste time by checking the screen before answering. Even a sales call would have been a welcome distraction at that moment.
“Hello?”
But it was no sales call; and no salutation came in response to his greeting. Instead, a cacophony of sound assaulted his ears amongst sharp bursts of static. The crash of metal ringing against metal, the thud of a heavy blunt object hitting an unyielding surface and a plethora of other noise threw Matsumoto into confusion. The din was then punctuated by a blood-curdling, high-pitched shriek that chilled Jun far more than the inclement weather ever could. Just seconds after he had picked up the call, the line went silent - the connection severed.
Worried, he checked the display to confirm the origin of the mysterious call. He was horrified to find that the call had been made of the cellular phone of one Aiba Masaki.
Mind racing, Matsumoto dashed back to his car while he tried in vain to contact his vivacious friend. It proved useless; no matter how many times he redialled, Masaki’s phone went straight to a pre-recorded message claiming that he was unavailable. Fighting a growing sense of panic as that piercing scream still rang in his ears, Jun located his car and scrambled inside.
Before he started the engine however, he placed a call to his manager. The no-nonsense woman picked up on the second ring and Jun spoke before she could even finish her standard greeting. “Get me the number of Aiba-chan’s manager.”
“Matsumoto-kun, is something the matter?”
“I don’t have time to explain." He stated shortly. “Just mail it to me right now.” He waited only long enough to hear her agree then hung up and turned the key in the ignition. Pulling out into the traffic and connecting his cell to the hands-free device, he tried again to reach his friend.
Jun was not usually the type to panic over events, preferring instead to keep his cool in a crisis. But the possibility that something dreadful had befallen Masaki shattered his habitual calm. The sounds that he had heard, and that final, deafening yell, echoed in the back of his mind - along with a thousand awful images his mind conjured to match them. Never had Matsumoto feared for someone’s life as he did now.
Even when Aiba had taken ill in their teens, Jun had reacted serenely. At the time, his faith in modern medicine and his youthful assurance that nothing really bad could happen to him or his friends had made him confident that everything would work out well. But time and experience had taught Jun the harsh reality of life since then. He had been brash and cocky back then; he knew better than to tempt fate now.
Matsumoto had no idea how he would cope if something had happened to his friend and colleague. It took a great deal of effort simply to keep his attention on the road and to stay within the speed limit. Wherever Aiba was, something was wrong, and Jun needed to be there.
Just as he pulled up at the first set of traffic lights, the information he had requested from his manager arrived. Swiftly, he dialled the number and waited long seconds for Aiba’s manager to answer. When the businessman finally took the call, Jun quickly made himself known.
“Sir, it’s Matsumoto Jun. I know it’s his day off, but do you know where Aiba-chan is?”
Regardless of his obvious surprise, the man on the other end of the line sounded friendly as he replied. “Uh, Masaki-kun? Well, as far as I know, he was planning to spend today in his apartment.”
“So he’s at home?” Jun confirmed.
“I suppose so. That’s what Aiba-kun said, after all. Is it something important Matsumoto-kun? I could try calling his home number, if it helps.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, the lean Idol tried to sound normal. He did not want to cause a huge fuss if there was no reason to, so he tried to play it down. “Um… I don’t know yet if it’s important.” He admitted. “But if you can call his landline that would really help.”
“Is there some sort of message you want me to pass on?”
“No. Just… if you can reach him, can you call me back and let me know? Or have Aiba-chan call me? I’m actually on my way over there right now, so….”
“That’s fine. If I speak to Aiba-kun, I’ll have him contact you immediately, alright?”
“Thank you.” Jun told the man sincerely. As they said their parting words and hung up, the young man allowed himself to hope for a moment that everything would be fine. But it was a long forty-minute drive to Aiba’s apartment from Matsumoto’s favourite shopping district. And, as he got closer to his destination and no phone calls came, his fear began to build once more.
By the time Matsumoto arrived outside Aiba’s home, he as close to hysteria as he had ever been before. Rushing to the door, he hesitated uncertainly when he found it unlatched and slightly ajar. Something about the situation and the utter silence from inside made the young man nervous.
Carefully, he pushed open the door and crept quietly inside. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him then.
Masaki’s usually immaculate apartment had been completely ransacked.
In the living room, the sofa cushions were strewn around haphazardly, scraps of crumpled paper littered the space and several CD’s had fallen from the rack near the stereo into a discarded heap upon the floor. Two chairs from the dinning table were overturned, one of which laying upside-down halfway down the hall towards the rear of the building.
But in the kitchen, the chaos was much worse. Drawers and cupboards lay open with their contents spilled out onto the tiles. Pots, Pans and utensils took up the surface of the floor and, at his feet, a puddle of what seemed to be miso soup, seeped towards him. In the centre of that puddle, Aiba’s cellular phone laid, silent and abandoned.
As Matsumoto’s mind filled with scenarios of what might have happened - of burglary, a struggle, kidnapping - he was alerted by a sound from the hallway. Unconsciously holding his breath, Jun hid flush against the wall, just out of sight. With growing trepidation and hearing soft footfalls slinking closer, he peered cautiously around the corner.
Matsumoto could not contain his gasp when he caught Aiba Masaki tip-toeing fugitively towards the front room. “Aiba-chan!?”
Aiba jumped at the unexpected summons. Upon spotting Jun, his eyes went wide, then quickly filled with terror. As the younger man opened his mouth to demand an explanation, Aiba shot towards him in a panic-stricken rush. “Shhh!” Masaki hushed him in a flustered, desperate whisper. “He’ll hear you.”
Momentarily stunned, Jun took in Aiba’s dishevelled appearance. His mid-length, chemically lightened hair was a tangled mess and his t-shirt was pulled and stretched so that it hung awkwardly on his long frame. He was pale, but on the right side of his face, a dark shadow marred his smooth cheek. But more than anything, it was the expression of abject dread that Masaki wore that frightened him. “Aiba-chan, what-?” He began quietly, but his friend was already mumbling something else.
“He’s in the bedroom and he just fell asleep. If he wakes up now… it’ll be bad.”
“Wait.” Jun cut in with an urgent whisper of his own. “Who are you talking about? And how did you get that bruise on your cheek?”
“What bruise?” Distracted, Masaki rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, smudging the dark stain further and transferring some of it to his hand. “Oh, great…” He sighed forlornly. “Now I’m going to need another shower.”
Thoroughly perplexed by Aiba’s reaction and the disjointed nature of the circumstances, Matsumoto tried to make sense of events. “Aiba-chan, are you alright? I came as soon as I got your call.”
Then it was the older man who seemed confused. “My call? But I didn’t-” He stopped abruptly, quickly scanning the carnage that was his main room. “Where is my phone anyway?” He muttered to himself.
“The kitchen floor.” Jun replied automatically, following the taller man when he ducked into the kitchen archway.
Spotting the phone amongst the congealing pool of spilled soup, Aiba crinkled his nose in distaste. “Yuck….” Carefully, his picked the soiled device up between to fingers and placed it on the countertop. “Do you think it’ll still work if I let it dry out a little?”
Matsumoto caught himself halfway to a shrug and realised he needed to be direct. “Aiba-chan,” He began sternly. “What’s going on? Who is in the bedroom and why does your place look like a typhoon just swept through?”
“I’m babysitting my cousin and I just got him down for his nap.” Aiba replied simply, as if it should be obvious. “Ah… he must have dialled your number when he was playing with my phone, huh?”
Numb with an odd mix of relief, shock and wasted anxiety, Jun had trouble getting his head around this new information. “But- but- On the phone there was this…. I heard a scream. It sounded like someone was being killed.”
The older man met Matsumoto’s eyes levelly. “Have you ever seen a two-year-old throw a tantrum?” He smirked. “They do that.”
“A two-year-old on a temper tantrum did all this!?” Jun questioned, gesturing at the chaos around him wildly.
“Not so loud!” Aiba reminded his friend, cringing. “And not everything, no. Just the kitchen mostly. The living room is from when we were playing earlier. We made a fort out of the sofa.” He added with a grin. As he spoke, the man walked back to the main room and began to collect the scattered cushions. “And we defended the Emperor with paper rocks against the Evil Vampire-Robot-Nazis- who were also Zombies.”
“What are you talking about?”
Aiba just chuckled to himself, straightening the cushions into place, he invited his guest to remove his coat and shoes and to make himself comfortable. As he began gathering the crumbled balls of paper ammunition, Masaki explained further. “But when he was having his dinner, and I told him it was nearly time for a nap… things got a little out of hand.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t smother the brat….” Matsumoto confessed in grudging admiration of Aiba’s patience.
“Jay-kun is a good kid.” The tall man countered fondly, depositing an armful of paper into the wastebasket. “He was just tired and the poor guy misses his mother.”
“His mother?” Jun enquired concernedly as he watched Aiba work. “That’s your uncles’ foreign wife, right? Did something happen to her?”
“Not really. But she had to go back to her own country for a while to sort something out. So my mother has been taking care of Jay-kun while my uncle is a work for the past two weeks.”
“Her own country? Is there something wrong with her visa?”
No, no, nothing like that.” The older man clarified as he stacked the fallen CD’s randomly atop his stereo. “It’s something about Jay-kun’s real father and the Cee Ess Ay. Anyway, I offered to look after him today to give my mother a break.”
“Oh, I see…” Matsumoto said, not really understanding at all, but knowing that Aiba enjoyed doing things for others in a way Jun could not fathom. “What is the Cee Es-”
“I have no idea.” Aiba replied before the man could even complete the question. Having finished his swift tidy-up of the room, he joined his friend on the sofa. He laid across the seat, using Jun’s lap as a footrest, and heaved a weary sigh. “Ah~ I’m exhausted.”
Matsumoto scoffed good-naturedly. “You’re worn out? I raced all the way over here because I thought you’d been kidnapped or something.”
“Sorry.” Masaki apologised, but he wore a pleased smile as he did so. “But - if I remember correctly - the one time I was abducted, you were one of the kidnappers…” He noted.
“It’s not funny, Aiba-chan.” The younger man scolded him indignantly. “I seriously thought you were in trouble. I even called your manager. Which reminds me: Don’t you ever answer your landline?”
“Ah!” Aiba smacked his forehead against his palm. “I completely forgot about that.” He exclaimed.
“Forgot what?”
“I unplugged it the other night. Hmm…. I thought it was strange that nobody had called me.”
Jun regarded his friend evenly. “Why would you do that?” He asked, although, he was not sure he really wanted to know the answer.
“Well…” A slow, beatific smile curved Aiba’s full lips. “Sho-chan came over and we didn’t want to be… distracted.”
Playfully pushing Masaki’s feet out of his lap, Matsumoto groaned. “You two are way too sappy.” He observed in mock disgust. “You’d give chickens cavities.”
“But chickens don’t have teeth.” The taller man pointed out simplistically.
“Exactly.”
Grinning sheepishly, Aiba sat up and - tucking his legs under himself - scooted closer to his friend. “Aw, it’s OK Jun-tan.” He reassured the man teasingly. “You’ll understand one day, when you find a nice girl of your own. Uh, not that Sho-chan is a girl, or anything.” He amended quickly.
At any other time, in any other place, Matsumoto would have taken Aiba’s teasing in good grace. He would have jokingly reprimanded the genial man and thought nothing more of it. Today, however, Masaki’s words struck a cord in the young Idol. Nerves - already frazzled by events - finally snapped. And before he could really stop to think, he was correcting his friend. “That’ll never happen.”
“Eh?”
Matsumoto froze. He had not meant to speak the thought aloud and certainly not quite so sharply. Yet, even as he considered shrugging it off and moving on, Aiba watched him with curious eyes and Jun could not get the lie past his lips.
He had always lived with the knowledge that he had to conceal his true lifestyle for the sake of Arashi. Truthfully, he accepted it because he cherished the group and he enjoyed his career too much to put them in jeopardy. But after more than a decade, he was tired of hiding the truth from his friends.
Surely, if there was ever a right time to confess, this was it. And if anyone was ever going to accept him, surely Aiba - as the most amenable friend he had - would do so. For years, people had been proclaiming Arashi as a tight-knit group, and yet Jun had been holding back a fundamental part of himself. It was about time he bridged that gap and came clean.
Taking a deep breath, he faced his friend seriously. “Actually, Aiba-chan… there’s something you should know about me….”
To be continued…
HERE
___________________________
Oh Jun, always so concerned with the health of your fellow members…. First Sho then Nino and now Aiba, huh? It’s about time you took care of yourself. (That’s all I have to say for now, see you in the next chappy!)
The next chapter will be posted on: Friday 26th February. *UPDATED* If you want to keep track of this story (and all my other works,) check out my master post [ HERE] I’ll keep it updated with any new information.
Comments, criticisms, opinions and ideas are all welcome! ♥
*Cue dramatic music*
Title: Recoil (Chapter Four ~ Guardian)
Series Rating: NC-17
Genre: Romance/Smut
Characters: Arashi
Word Count: 2,900
Type: Multi-Chapter/Series
Summary: A mysterious phone call puts Jun on full alert and forces him to take action. But what does he plan to do and why is he haunted by images of violence and death?
Disclaimer: I own nothing dammit!
Progress:
Prologue - Precedent - HERE
Chapter One - Duality - HERE
Chapter Two - Implications - HERE
Chapter Three - Complications - HERE
Recoil
Chapter Four ~ Guardian
The day was bitterly cold despite the clear blue skies and the bright midday sunshine. Pulling his coat tight around his lanky frame, Matsumoto Jun took refuge from the chill and ducked into one of his preferred shopping establishments. With nothing better to do, he browsed aimlessly for some time. It was rare for the active young Idol to spend his day off alone; he usually made plans of some sort.
Today, however, the man had woken up that morning with the inescapable urge to do nothing. To that end, Jun had actually cancelled an arrangement to visit a couple of old friends and had lolled around at home instead. Yet, by mid-morning, he had grown tired of his own miserable company and bored by the lifeless walls of his own home. Therefore Matsumoto had decided to brave the frosty day and take a long walk to clear his head.
So far, the results were questionable at best.
As he strolled around the store, lost in thought, he did not notice the approach of the young sales assistant. “Is there anything I can help you with today sir?” The customary question was directed at him in an strange, coquettish tone that startled him from his reprieve.
Turning towards the woman, Matsumoto declined the offer. He could tell by the way she stood just a little too close and the star-struck gleam in her overly made-up eyes that the woman knew exactly whom he was. Her reaction was nothing new, of course, but the popular Idol had shopped in this store for years and most of the employees were used to his presence. So when the woman continued to hover at his side after he had effectively dismissed her, Jun began to feel a little uncomfortable.
Carefully schooling his expression to appear neutral, Matsumoto attempted to handle the social minefield tactically. “Well… if there’s nothing else…?” He hinted diplomatically.
The inexperienced sales assistant seemed to miss the verbal cue. “You’re my favourite!” She blurted in a giddy whisper.
Jun covered his shock with a quick nod and a tight smile. “Ah- Thank you.”
“All my friends like you too.” She continued in an excited rush, completely heedless of her unprofessional conduct. “And my sister and mother. You’re really popular with women, huh? Ooh, everyone will be so jealous when I tell them that I met Matsujun today!”
The young man was desperately searching for an excuse to escape when he was saved by the timely trill of his cellular phone. Uttering a silent prayer of thanks for small miracles, Matsumoto dug the device out of his pocket. “I have to take this.” He said quickly. Already hurrying to the exit, he did not waste time by checking the screen before answering. Even a sales call would have been a welcome distraction at that moment.
“Hello?”
But it was no sales call; and no salutation came in response to his greeting. Instead, a cacophony of sound assaulted his ears amongst sharp bursts of static. The crash of metal ringing against metal, the thud of a heavy blunt object hitting an unyielding surface and a plethora of other noise threw Matsumoto into confusion. The din was then punctuated by a blood-curdling, high-pitched shriek that chilled Jun far more than the inclement weather ever could. Just seconds after he had picked up the call, the line went silent - the connection severed.
Worried, he checked the display to confirm the origin of the mysterious call. He was horrified to find that the call had been made of the cellular phone of one Aiba Masaki.
Mind racing, Matsumoto dashed back to his car while he tried in vain to contact his vivacious friend. It proved useless; no matter how many times he redialled, Masaki’s phone went straight to a pre-recorded message claiming that he was unavailable. Fighting a growing sense of panic as that piercing scream still rang in his ears, Jun located his car and scrambled inside.
Before he started the engine however, he placed a call to his manager. The no-nonsense woman picked up on the second ring and Jun spoke before she could even finish her standard greeting. “Get me the number of Aiba-chan’s manager.”
“Matsumoto-kun, is something the matter?”
“I don’t have time to explain." He stated shortly. “Just mail it to me right now.” He waited only long enough to hear her agree then hung up and turned the key in the ignition. Pulling out into the traffic and connecting his cell to the hands-free device, he tried again to reach his friend.
Jun was not usually the type to panic over events, preferring instead to keep his cool in a crisis. But the possibility that something dreadful had befallen Masaki shattered his habitual calm. The sounds that he had heard, and that final, deafening yell, echoed in the back of his mind - along with a thousand awful images his mind conjured to match them. Never had Matsumoto feared for someone’s life as he did now.
Even when Aiba had taken ill in their teens, Jun had reacted serenely. At the time, his faith in modern medicine and his youthful assurance that nothing really bad could happen to him or his friends had made him confident that everything would work out well. But time and experience had taught Jun the harsh reality of life since then. He had been brash and cocky back then; he knew better than to tempt fate now.
Matsumoto had no idea how he would cope if something had happened to his friend and colleague. It took a great deal of effort simply to keep his attention on the road and to stay within the speed limit. Wherever Aiba was, something was wrong, and Jun needed to be there.
Just as he pulled up at the first set of traffic lights, the information he had requested from his manager arrived. Swiftly, he dialled the number and waited long seconds for Aiba’s manager to answer. When the businessman finally took the call, Jun quickly made himself known.
“Sir, it’s Matsumoto Jun. I know it’s his day off, but do you know where Aiba-chan is?”
Regardless of his obvious surprise, the man on the other end of the line sounded friendly as he replied. “Uh, Masaki-kun? Well, as far as I know, he was planning to spend today in his apartment.”
“So he’s at home?” Jun confirmed.
“I suppose so. That’s what Aiba-kun said, after all. Is it something important Matsumoto-kun? I could try calling his home number, if it helps.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, the lean Idol tried to sound normal. He did not want to cause a huge fuss if there was no reason to, so he tried to play it down. “Um… I don’t know yet if it’s important.” He admitted. “But if you can call his landline that would really help.”
“Is there some sort of message you want me to pass on?”
“No. Just… if you can reach him, can you call me back and let me know? Or have Aiba-chan call me? I’m actually on my way over there right now, so….”
“That’s fine. If I speak to Aiba-kun, I’ll have him contact you immediately, alright?”
“Thank you.” Jun told the man sincerely. As they said their parting words and hung up, the young man allowed himself to hope for a moment that everything would be fine. But it was a long forty-minute drive to Aiba’s apartment from Matsumoto’s favourite shopping district. And, as he got closer to his destination and no phone calls came, his fear began to build once more.
By the time Matsumoto arrived outside Aiba’s home, he as close to hysteria as he had ever been before. Rushing to the door, he hesitated uncertainly when he found it unlatched and slightly ajar. Something about the situation and the utter silence from inside made the young man nervous.
Carefully, he pushed open the door and crept quietly inside. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him then.
Masaki’s usually immaculate apartment had been completely ransacked.
In the living room, the sofa cushions were strewn around haphazardly, scraps of crumpled paper littered the space and several CD’s had fallen from the rack near the stereo into a discarded heap upon the floor. Two chairs from the dinning table were overturned, one of which laying upside-down halfway down the hall towards the rear of the building.
But in the kitchen, the chaos was much worse. Drawers and cupboards lay open with their contents spilled out onto the tiles. Pots, Pans and utensils took up the surface of the floor and, at his feet, a puddle of what seemed to be miso soup, seeped towards him. In the centre of that puddle, Aiba’s cellular phone laid, silent and abandoned.
As Matsumoto’s mind filled with scenarios of what might have happened - of burglary, a struggle, kidnapping - he was alerted by a sound from the hallway. Unconsciously holding his breath, Jun hid flush against the wall, just out of sight. With growing trepidation and hearing soft footfalls slinking closer, he peered cautiously around the corner.
Matsumoto could not contain his gasp when he caught Aiba Masaki tip-toeing fugitively towards the front room. “Aiba-chan!?”
Aiba jumped at the unexpected summons. Upon spotting Jun, his eyes went wide, then quickly filled with terror. As the younger man opened his mouth to demand an explanation, Aiba shot towards him in a panic-stricken rush. “Shhh!” Masaki hushed him in a flustered, desperate whisper. “He’ll hear you.”
Momentarily stunned, Jun took in Aiba’s dishevelled appearance. His mid-length, chemically lightened hair was a tangled mess and his t-shirt was pulled and stretched so that it hung awkwardly on his long frame. He was pale, but on the right side of his face, a dark shadow marred his smooth cheek. But more than anything, it was the expression of abject dread that Masaki wore that frightened him. “Aiba-chan, what-?” He began quietly, but his friend was already mumbling something else.
“He’s in the bedroom and he just fell asleep. If he wakes up now… it’ll be bad.”
“Wait.” Jun cut in with an urgent whisper of his own. “Who are you talking about? And how did you get that bruise on your cheek?”
“What bruise?” Distracted, Masaki rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, smudging the dark stain further and transferring some of it to his hand. “Oh, great…” He sighed forlornly. “Now I’m going to need another shower.”
Thoroughly perplexed by Aiba’s reaction and the disjointed nature of the circumstances, Matsumoto tried to make sense of events. “Aiba-chan, are you alright? I came as soon as I got your call.”
Then it was the older man who seemed confused. “My call? But I didn’t-” He stopped abruptly, quickly scanning the carnage that was his main room. “Where is my phone anyway?” He muttered to himself.
“The kitchen floor.” Jun replied automatically, following the taller man when he ducked into the kitchen archway.
Spotting the phone amongst the congealing pool of spilled soup, Aiba crinkled his nose in distaste. “Yuck….” Carefully, his picked the soiled device up between to fingers and placed it on the countertop. “Do you think it’ll still work if I let it dry out a little?”
Matsumoto caught himself halfway to a shrug and realised he needed to be direct. “Aiba-chan,” He began sternly. “What’s going on? Who is in the bedroom and why does your place look like a typhoon just swept through?”
“I’m babysitting my cousin and I just got him down for his nap.” Aiba replied simply, as if it should be obvious. “Ah… he must have dialled your number when he was playing with my phone, huh?”
Numb with an odd mix of relief, shock and wasted anxiety, Jun had trouble getting his head around this new information. “But- but- On the phone there was this…. I heard a scream. It sounded like someone was being killed.”
The older man met Matsumoto’s eyes levelly. “Have you ever seen a two-year-old throw a tantrum?” He smirked. “They do that.”
“A two-year-old on a temper tantrum did all this!?” Jun questioned, gesturing at the chaos around him wildly.
“Not so loud!” Aiba reminded his friend, cringing. “And not everything, no. Just the kitchen mostly. The living room is from when we were playing earlier. We made a fort out of the sofa.” He added with a grin. As he spoke, the man walked back to the main room and began to collect the scattered cushions. “And we defended the Emperor with paper rocks against the Evil Vampire-Robot-Nazis- who were also Zombies.”
“What are you talking about?”
Aiba just chuckled to himself, straightening the cushions into place, he invited his guest to remove his coat and shoes and to make himself comfortable. As he began gathering the crumbled balls of paper ammunition, Masaki explained further. “But when he was having his dinner, and I told him it was nearly time for a nap… things got a little out of hand.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t smother the brat….” Matsumoto confessed in grudging admiration of Aiba’s patience.
“Jay-kun is a good kid.” The tall man countered fondly, depositing an armful of paper into the wastebasket. “He was just tired and the poor guy misses his mother.”
“His mother?” Jun enquired concernedly as he watched Aiba work. “That’s your uncles’ foreign wife, right? Did something happen to her?”
“Not really. But she had to go back to her own country for a while to sort something out. So my mother has been taking care of Jay-kun while my uncle is a work for the past two weeks.”
“Her own country? Is there something wrong with her visa?”
No, no, nothing like that.” The older man clarified as he stacked the fallen CD’s randomly atop his stereo. “It’s something about Jay-kun’s real father and the Cee Ess Ay. Anyway, I offered to look after him today to give my mother a break.”
“Oh, I see…” Matsumoto said, not really understanding at all, but knowing that Aiba enjoyed doing things for others in a way Jun could not fathom. “What is the Cee Es-”
“I have no idea.” Aiba replied before the man could even complete the question. Having finished his swift tidy-up of the room, he joined his friend on the sofa. He laid across the seat, using Jun’s lap as a footrest, and heaved a weary sigh. “Ah~ I’m exhausted.”
Matsumoto scoffed good-naturedly. “You’re worn out? I raced all the way over here because I thought you’d been kidnapped or something.”
“Sorry.” Masaki apologised, but he wore a pleased smile as he did so. “But - if I remember correctly - the one time I was abducted, you were one of the kidnappers…” He noted.
“It’s not funny, Aiba-chan.” The younger man scolded him indignantly. “I seriously thought you were in trouble. I even called your manager. Which reminds me: Don’t you ever answer your landline?”
“Ah!” Aiba smacked his forehead against his palm. “I completely forgot about that.” He exclaimed.
“Forgot what?”
“I unplugged it the other night. Hmm…. I thought it was strange that nobody had called me.”
Jun regarded his friend evenly. “Why would you do that?” He asked, although, he was not sure he really wanted to know the answer.
“Well…” A slow, beatific smile curved Aiba’s full lips. “Sho-chan came over and we didn’t want to be… distracted.”
Playfully pushing Masaki’s feet out of his lap, Matsumoto groaned. “You two are way too sappy.” He observed in mock disgust. “You’d give chickens cavities.”
“But chickens don’t have teeth.” The taller man pointed out simplistically.
“Exactly.”
Grinning sheepishly, Aiba sat up and - tucking his legs under himself - scooted closer to his friend. “Aw, it’s OK Jun-tan.” He reassured the man teasingly. “You’ll understand one day, when you find a nice girl of your own. Uh, not that Sho-chan is a girl, or anything.” He amended quickly.
At any other time, in any other place, Matsumoto would have taken Aiba’s teasing in good grace. He would have jokingly reprimanded the genial man and thought nothing more of it. Today, however, Masaki’s words struck a cord in the young Idol. Nerves - already frazzled by events - finally snapped. And before he could really stop to think, he was correcting his friend. “That’ll never happen.”
“Eh?”
Matsumoto froze. He had not meant to speak the thought aloud and certainly not quite so sharply. Yet, even as he considered shrugging it off and moving on, Aiba watched him with curious eyes and Jun could not get the lie past his lips.
He had always lived with the knowledge that he had to conceal his true lifestyle for the sake of Arashi. Truthfully, he accepted it because he cherished the group and he enjoyed his career too much to put them in jeopardy. But after more than a decade, he was tired of hiding the truth from his friends.
Surely, if there was ever a right time to confess, this was it. And if anyone was ever going to accept him, surely Aiba - as the most amenable friend he had - would do so. For years, people had been proclaiming Arashi as a tight-knit group, and yet Jun had been holding back a fundamental part of himself. It was about time he bridged that gap and came clean.
Taking a deep breath, he faced his friend seriously. “Actually, Aiba-chan… there’s something you should know about me….”
To be continued…
HERE
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Oh Jun, always so concerned with the health of your fellow members…. First Sho then Nino and now Aiba, huh? It’s about time you took care of yourself. (That’s all I have to say for now, see you in the next chappy!)
The next chapter will be posted on: Friday 26th February. *UPDATED* If you want to keep track of this story (and all my other works,) check out my master post [ HERE] I’ll keep it updated with any new information.
Comments, criticisms, opinions and ideas are all welcome! ♥