One is Silver and the Other Gold (Part 2)
“You did what?!?!”
“Calm down, Ryo. I just had lunch with Koyama. It’s not the end of the world or anything.”
Ryo glares at Yamapi as though he doesn’t quite believe him about that last part. Ryo’s in Tokyo for drama filming so, in accordance with tradition, he and Yamapi are sharing lunch and catching up before he has to head back to Osaka. They’re eating at an outdoor café because the weather’s still pleasantly cool for late October, although Yamapi sort of wishes they were eating somewhere more private, especially considering Ryo’s rather obtrusive outburst.
Yamapi tries to ignore the passersby staring and pointing at him, and instead refocuses on Ryo, who’s looking at him like Yamapi just kicked his puppy.
“I didn’t even know you two still talked,” Ryo says with a slightly accusatory tone, “I haven’t heard from Koyama or Kato since…”
The sentence goes unfinished. They both know the rest.
Yamapi shrugs in reply.
“We haven’t really been talking, exactly,” He says, searching carefully for the right words, “It’s more like mailing. Yesterday was the first time we actually talked face to face. I don’t really know how it happened. One day we just…well, literally we bumped into each other. Things sort of went from there.”
Ryo nods, seems to accept this answer. Maybe he’s just used to Yamapi’s weird tendencies by now. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Yamapi can tell Ryo has something more he wants to say, so he waits patiently for Ryo to piece it together in his mind.
“How is he?” Ryo finally asks, trying and miserably failing to feign indifference, “Like I said, I haven’t heard anything about him.”
“That’s because there hasn’t been anything to hear,” Yamapi explains, “He left the entertainment industry. Kato too, I think. Now he works in his mom’s ramen shop. You remember. He talked about it a lot.”
Ryo falls silent again. Yamapi suddenly notices how tired he looks. He’s thin, too thin, and he has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in years (which he probably hasn’t). It must be exhausting, Yamapi thinks, to be constantly ferried between two cities: Osaka, where his band is, and Tokyo, where his work is. Forced to live in both worlds, but unable to be home in either. Yamapi realizes he can’t remember the last time he saw Ryo look relaxed, like he wasn’t bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“He seems happy though,” Yamapi continues, even though Ryo didn’t ask for more information, “Same old Koyama. You know how he is. You could lock him in a cell and he’d still be smiling and thanking you for the room.”
That has Ryo cracking a grin, a little one, but it’s definitely there.
“You’ll be here week after next right?” Yamapi asks, and continues when Ryo nods ‘yes’, “You should come eat with us. Like a reunion or something.”
For a second, Yamapi thinks he can see the old Ryo. For just the tiniest of moments Ryo looks energized and fresh and happy. But then it’s gone, so fast it could have been a trick of the light, and Ryo’s shaking his head.
“I don’t think so,” he sighs, “You do what you want, but I still think it’s weird. And awkward. Plus I already have a mother. I don’t need Koyama hopping around telling me I need to eat and sleep properly.”
Yamapi knows it’s an excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He can see the real reason in Ryo’s expression, the guilt. That same guilt he still feels sometimes. That they made it, but others (Koyama) didn’t.
***
“You did what?!?!”
The waitress glares at Shige from across the room, and he suddenly realizes his mistake, bowing sheepishly. But when he turns back to Koyama, his expression is stern.
“I knew something was up with you,” he hisses, “You’ve seemed distracted for the past few weeks. But I would never have guessed you were meeting up with Yamashita.”
“Actually yesterday was the first time we met,” Koyama explains, mood still unwaveringly bright, “We were mailing each other a lot before. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal, though.”
“Because…because…” Shige fumbles around for a reason, but eventually he just sighs and collapses against the back of his chair, “It’s just kind of weird. And totally out of the blue.”
“I know,” Koyama agrees, “I thought it was strange at first too. It’s nice though, getting back in touch with someone you haven’t seen in awhile. I thought it would be awkward, but actually he’s really cool. It’s easier to talk to him now than it was when we were in a band together.”
Shige doesn’t have a response to that, but Koyama can tell he still disapproves.
“Shige, don’t be so uptight,” Koyama groans, “We did used to be band mates remember? All three of us.”
Shige fixes Koyama with a look, “But that was a long time ago. We’re not band mates anymore. I hate to have to say this, but Yamashita’s different from us. He’s a big celebrity still. We’re just normal people.”
“So that means we can’t be friends?”
“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” Shige says, sharply, “I just think you should be careful.”
“You sound so dramatic, Shige,” Koyama replies, laughing because he doesn’t want to think seriously about what Shige’s trying to say, “It was just a little lunch between friends.”
“Don’t put all your hopes on Yamashita again, Koyama,” Shige pleads, and the way he says it, the gravity in his voice, stops Koyama’s laughter immediately, “You remember what happened last time.”
Koyama nods. He does.
“Thanks Shige,” he whispers, “But you really don’t have to worry. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
Shige doesn’t look convinced.
***
Despite their friends’ reactions, Yamapi and Koyama keep mailing each other, keep meeting up here and there, until it almost becomes routine. Sometimes it’s lunch, sometimes dinner. Yamapi even begins to make semi-regular appearances at the Koyama household for late night movies or video game marathons.
Koyama’s mother develops the embarrassing habit of baking desserts (cookies mostly plus the occasional cake) and sending them with her son whenever he goes to meet Yamapi. Koyama apologizes profusely for his mother, but Yamapi assures him that it’s fine. Koyamama’s cooking is absolutely delicious, so he definitely isn’t complaining.
The first time Koyama manages to convince Shige to join them for lunch is more than a little uncomfortable. It feels almost like bringing a girl home to meet his family and having his father silently evaluate her to determine whether or not she’s worthy enough for their son. Shige doesn’t say much beyond a brief greeting, instead fixing Yamapi with a stare that falls somewhere between challenging and hostile.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of awkward small talk, Yamapi brings up the subject of photography, saying that Koyama mentioned his interest once and asking about some of the specifics. Almost instantly Shige jumps into the conversation, explaining to Yamapi about the differences in lenses and exposure techniques. And even though Yamapi knows next to nothing about cameras, he’s sat through enough photo shoots to be able to keep his end of the discussion going.
By the end of the meal, all three are chatting back and forth easily, like they haven’t skipped out on four years of their relationship. Yamapi picks up the check (“don’t mean to be rude but I know I make more than you two”) and while he’s paying Shige shoots Koyama an approving look. It makes Koyama disproportionately happy.
In fact, the only worrying part of being friends with Yamapi is how much Koyama has come to depend on it.
In early December, Yamapi flies to Hawaii for a week to shoot a commercial. Four days without hearing from him, and Koyama’s suddenly reminded of how lonely it is, working in the ramen shop all day without getting random messages or silly phone calls. He misses Yamapi, misses the low rumble of his voice and the way he tilts his head to the side when he’s confused.
For the first time in a month, Koyama goes on an evening run, trying desperately to get his mind away from Yamapi. He isn’t very successful.
During the second week of January, Yamapi releases his first new single in three and a half months. It’s as overly-synthed up dance track with incomprehensible English lyrics that get jammed in Yamapi’s mouth. First week sales turn out dismally low. Two programs end up cancelling his live performances. All in all, it’s not a good start to the new year.
From: Keii
Cheer up. It wasn’t….completely terrible. You’ll do better next time!
The message cheers Yamapi up, but only a little.
Jin decides the answer to Yamapi’s problem is to get outrageously drunk, so drunk he can’t think about how much his life sucks. And while this is Jin’s answer to pretty much everything, Yamapi’s willing to give it a shot.
They end up going to some club in Roppongi. The whole place is dark, and the bass from the speakers pounds across the floor and up through Yamapi’s feet.
“Have a beer,” Jin says, shoving a bottle into Yamapi’s hand.
He downs it in two long gulps, and almost immediately Jin’s passing him another one.
“Drink up man,” Jin insists, yelling to be heard over the loud music, “Tonight you need to get drunk off your ass.”
So Yamapi does. He loses track of how many beers he’s had somewhere around seven. He loses track of where the hell Jin is several beers after that. The club seems like it’s titling in circles around him. The music combined with the loud shouts and catcalls are starting to give him a headache.
He feels his phone shift in his pocket as someone brushes past him, and suddenly Yamapi needs to talk to Koyama, physically needs to hear the other man’s voice.
Before he’s really had time to process the idea (not that his brain is capable of much processing at the moment) Yamapi’s stumbling outside the club, slumping against a wall, and pulling out his cell phone. He presses 1 on the speed dial and holds his breath as the phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Hello?” a rough, scratchy voice filters through the line and into Yamapi’s ear.
“Kei?” Yamapi says, or maybe whines, “Kei, can you come here?”
“Yamapi?” Koyama asks, “What are you…”
“Please,” Yamapi interrupts, because any second he thinks he might start crying and that would just be embarrassing, “Please come. Kei, I need you.”
A pause.
“I’ll be there soon.”
***
Getting to where Yamapi is isn’t too difficult. Getting Yamapi into the car and back to his apartment is significantly more so.
When Koyama pulls up in front of the club, he sees Yamapi leaning against the outside wall, no sunglasses, no hat, eyes hazy and red.
“Yamapi, are you all right?” Koyama asks, because honestly he looks like shit.
“Kei?” Yamapi mumbles in reply, “S’that you?”
“God, how drunk are you?” Koyama groans, “C’mon. Let’s get you home before anyone sees you like this.”
Koyama grabs one of Yamapi’s arms and heaves him up off the wall. Yamapi leans all of his body weight against Koyama’s side, and they both almost go down before Koyama manages to steady himself. Koyama coaxes Yamapi into the passenger seat of the car (“But Kei, I wanna dance, let’s dance”) and somehow manages to buckle him in.
“We’re going to have to go to your apartment, Yamapi,” Koyama says as he climbs into the driver’s seat, “My mom will kill me if I bring you home like this. What’s your address?”
It takes three tries for Yamapi to properly give Koyama his address and describe where his apartment is. During the drive, Yamapi hums along with the radio and his hands keep finding their way to Koyama’s left knee.
Koyama parks in front of Yamapi’s apartment complex, then spends another ten minutes trying to drag Yamapi up the front stairs. They make it to the elevator in one piece. Yamapi lazily pushes the correct button and leans back against the metal wall, gazing at Koyama with a faraway look in his eye.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” he whispers.
The doors ding open before Koyama can say ‘you’re welcome.’
Yamapi walks unsupported to his front door (he sways a little bit, but Koyama thinks the alcohol must be wearing off). The lock is too much for him though, so Koyama opens it for him. He also helps Yamapi slip off his shoes and make his way through the first door on the right into the bedroom.
Yamapi collapses onto the bed, burying his head tightly under a pillow. Koyama decides it’s probably fine to let him stay in his clothes, or at least not worth the trouble of trying to get them off, so he leaves Yamapi in the bedroom and crosses the medium-sized apartment into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with a glass of water and a couple of headache pills, laying them on the side table before turning to leave. He thinks he hears another muffled ‘thank you,’ but he can’t be sure.
The clock in the living room flashes 1:15am. It’s too late to drive all the way home, Koyama thinks. Plus he’s dead tired. Surely Yamapi won’t mind if he borrows the couch for the night, especially considering all the trouble he’s been through. Koyama doesn’t give it another thought, just falls, boneless, onto the couch. He’s asleep before his head even touches the cushion.
***
Koyama awakens to the soft murmur of the TV. He groans. It feels like it’s too soon to be getting up. He cracks one eye open, expecting bright light. Instead he sees only the faint glow of the screen illuminating another person sitting on the end of the couch next to his curled up feet.
“Pi?” he murmurs sleepily, “Why’r you wake?”
Yamapi turns to look at him, smiling faintly.
“Sorry I woke you up,” he whispers, “Go back to sleep.”
But Koyama can tell something’s wrong with the other man, so he stretches and sits up, turning to watch the TV too, waiting patiently for Yamapi to tell him what’s wrong.
“You’re lucky,” Yamapi says after a long while.
The words catch Koyama off guard. They aren’t what he was expecting.
“I’m lucky?”
“Yeah,” Yamapi says, smiling a bit but not looking at him, “You’re lucky. You don’t have to deal with this crap anymore. You don’t have to worry about what others think of you. You can just be you. Just Kei.”
Koyama gapes as Yamapi finally turns towards him. He isn’t surprised to see that the smile doesn’t reach Yamapi’s eyes.
“You’re lucky,” he says again.
Koyama can’t help but think Yamapi looks weirdly beautiful in the flickering glow of the TV. The lights move across the planes of his face, creating abstract shapes and shadows. Koyama can’t help but think Yamapi looks sort of ethereal, sort of like he doesn’t belong on Earth. He can’t help but think maybe Yamapi’s right. He is kind of lucky.
“You’re beautiful,” Koyama breathes, and he can’t take the words back so he does the next best thing, leans forward and kisses Yamapi square on the mouth.
Yamapi doesn’t pull away, so he does it again. And again. And again, until he’s sure Yamapi’s kissing back. Until he can feel a hand curled like a lifeline into the back of his t-shirt.
“I’m sorry,” Yamapi says against his lips, and for the life of him Koyama can’t figure out whether he’s sorry for waking him up or sending him that first mail or getting drunk or kissing him or leaving NewS behind to crumble like the pages of an old book. Any way it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.
“Apology accepted,” Koyama says, just to get Yamapi to shut up, and pulls him back in for another sound kiss.
***
The next morning, Yamapi is dragged into consciousness by the sound of talking in his kitchen. His head hurts from a hangover, his neck hurts from sleeping on the couch, and his back hurts from other, non-sleeping related activities, which also took place on the couch. Even though his whole body feels like it’s thrumming in pain, Yamapi can’t help but sigh contentedly. This is the best morning he’s had in a long time.
He hauls himself to his feet, stretching his aching muscles, and follows the sound of the voice into the kitchen. He sees Koyama talking into a phone, bare back facing the door, clad in what Yamapi immediately recognizes as a pair of his own boxers. It’s a nice sight, he thinks. One he could certainly get used to. He finally tunes in to Koyama’s phone conversation just as he’s about to hang up.
“Well, as you can clearly tell, I’m fine,” Koyama’s saying, gesticulating wildly with his free hand, “Don’t worry, mom. Yes. I’m at Yamapi’s place. I’ll be home later. Yes. Sorry for worrying you. Okay, bye.”
Koyama hangs up the phone, and Yamapi finally lets loose a loud snort of laughter. Koyama spins around, obviously surprised by Yamapi’s presence.
“Morning,” Koyama greets shyly, and Yamapi can tell he’s nervous and unsure.
“Hope you didn’t worry your mom too much,” Yamapi says, nodding at the cell phone as he crosses the room and stops a breath away from Koyama, “I don’t want her to stop making me those delicious cookies.”
“She’ll get over it,” Koyama grins, and that’s all he can say before Yamapi tilts his chin into a good morning kiss, the first of (hopefully) many more to come.
“Why did you send me that first mail?” Koyama asks later when they’re sprawled across the sofa again, TV playing some variety show that they aren’t paying attention to, “Really, why did you even ask for my number that night when we bumped into each other? We went so long without talking…”
It’s the question everyone, Jin, Ryo, Shige, has been asking Yamapi over and over again. It’s the question he’s been asking himself every day for the past three and a half months. He figures it’s probably about time he answered it. If anyone does, Koyama deserves to know.
“I guess…”Yamapi starts slowly, “I guess I missed it.”
“It?” Koyama repeats.
Yamapi’s fingers begin tugging through Koyama’s hair as he thinks of a way to explain it properly.
“Being part of something,” he finally says, “I missed belonging to something other than myself. When you’re by yourself, there’s no one to fall back on. No one to toss you a bottle of water, or sing your line when you forget the words. It’s just you.”
Koyama nods because he understands. Yamapi knew he would. When it comes right down to it, that’s the reason he’d asked for Koyama’s number that night on that dark street corner. He and Koyama are the same: two parts of a bigger circle that got ripped apart four years ago, just trying to keep moving forward, figuring they might be able to if they can only rejoin, melt and mesh back together.
“You know,” Koyama mumbles against Yamapi’s bare shoulder, lips skimming lightly across the skin until it feels like they’re a part of Yamapi’s own body, “It’s not just me. You’re pretty lucky too.”
Yamapi thinks he’s probably right on that one.
END
A/N: Love love LOVE this fic. Is it okay to write that about my own work? Congrats to Team AU, and I look forward to competing again next year.