NEWS Drabbles [Set 09]
Title: Space
Pairing: Koyama/Tegoshi
Rating: G
Summary: Tegoshi takes up a lot of room when he's asleep
Tegoshi, Koyama thought, took up a lot of space when he slept. He was such a tiny thing usually, but the moment he closed his eyes and drifted off, he seemed to spread out in all directions.
Right now, dead to the world on Koyama's bed, was a classic example. An arm here, a leg there, spread eagled and diagonal, it was almost as though he was trying to take up as much space as humanly possible. Koyama's bed was a queen size, but Tegoshi, with all of his almost-170 centimetres of height, had somehow managed to make it so that even one more person couldn't have fit comfortably next to him.
He was cute though, Koyama thought fondly. That certainly didn't change whether he was awake or asleep. He looked like he was playing dead, all limp, with his arms thrown out above his head and legs at odd angles. It seemed like it should’ve been uncomfortable, but he must’ve been in that position for hours now.
Koyama glanced at the clock. It was getting close to midnight; the trains would be stopping soon, and Tegoshi hadn’t brought his car today.
It would probably be best to wake him but, after looking at how peacefully he was sleeping, Koyama figured it couldn’t hurt to leave him where he was.
The two of them would fit in the bed somehow.
Title: Inebriated
Characters: Masuda, Tegoshi
Rating: PG
Summary: Massu picks up a drunken Tegoshi from a party
He was sitting on the driveway when Massu pulled up, with a friend who looked much less worse for the wear next to him lending a shoulder to lean on.
Massu pulled over and stopped the car, and Tegoshi’s friend must have guessed who he was here for, because he jostled Tegoshi out of his daze and helped him to his feet.
Tegoshi had sounded a little tipsy on the phone when he’d asked if Massu could please come and get him because it wasn’t far from his house, but he hadn’t realised exactly how much so. As it turned out ‘a little’ didn’t really cover it, because the moment the friend let go of him to open the car door, Tegoshi fell backwards and landed on his ass.
Massu averted his eyes.
It wasn’t like he’d never been drunk before - he’d walked through the city with his friends at night before, drunk and singing and generally making a fool of himself - but he’d never let himself get as trashed as Tegoshi obviously was now. It was too embarrassing to watch him, and so he stared at the dashboard instead, thanking Tegoshi’s friend without actually making eye contact and waiting for him to close the door.
“Seatbelt,” Massu said, still refusing to look. Usually he wouldn’t insist, because Tegoshi never really wore his belt, but Massu didn’t want him doing something like slumping on top of his gearstick while they were driving down the street.
“Got it,” Tegoshi said, words loud and enunciation exaggerated, as though he was trying to hide the fact that he was completely plastered.
Massu waited until he heard the click of the belt before he switched the engine on, wishing Tegoshi had had someone else come and get him so he didn’t have to feel so uncomfortable. But the reality was that Tegoshi had him on speed dial, probably for work purposes, and he obviously hadn’t been in any state to carefully decide who to choose as his sober driver.
He wasn’t mad, not exactly - even though it was past one o’clock in the morning and his car was now permeated with the smell of liquor - because Tegoshi would have definitely done the same for him. He probably would’ve just laughed at Massu for getting so wasted, and wouldn’t have felt the tingle of shame that Massu was feeling for him now.
It made him a little guilty, but reasoned that it could only be because he cared, because he knew Tegoshi was better than this; this careless person who couldn’t walk by himself or stand up straight on his own two feet.
“I remember when you had a different car,” Tegoshi said out of the blue, and Massu laughed uncomfortably and switched the radio on so he wouldn’t have to try and make conversation.
Of course, once they reached Tegoshi’s apartment, Massu realised there was no way he could leave him to get inside by himself - he probably wouldn’t make it to the elevator.
With a heavy heart, Massu got out and headed around to the other side of the car to help Tegoshi out. Tegoshi slumped against him, warm and soft in his arms, smelling like beer and spirits and girly shampoo and Massu was torn between feeling protective and disapproving.
It was a struggle to get Tegoshi to fish his keys out of his bag, and even more of a struggle to get him up to his room, but they prevailed in the end. Once they were inside Tegoshi went straight for his bed, flopping on it without taking his clothes off, and again, Massu had to help by wrestling him out of his jeans and unbuttoning his shirt. Fortunately, Tegoshi was too drunk to make any wise cracks about Massu taking advantage of him, pliant as Massu helped him under the covers in only his boxers.
“Massu,” Tegoshi trilled his name softly, looking up with an adoring expression. “You’re my best friend.”
Massu felt his face flush, but there was a bit of fondness mixed in with the embarrassment in his expression this time.
“You’re drunk,” he said, smoothing Tegoshi’s bangs away from his forehead. “Are you okay if I go now?”
“I’m fine.” Tegoshi rolled onto his side, curling into a ball under the blankets. “Thank you.”
“Good night.” Massu switched off the light switch as he left the room, and he couldn’t help smiling to himself, because no matter how embarrassing Tegoshi was at times, he was always twice as cute.
Title: Growing pains
Characters: Koyama, Shigeaki
Rating: G
Summary: Shige feels a bit left out of Koyama's life
Shige has always been artistic, finding his niche in the mental, rather than in the physical like Massu. A lot of hobbies are artistic in nature; guitar, photography, writing, with more he wants to add to the list.
Koyama had never really been the sort who had many hobbies, if any at all. He loved music, of course, but he didn't create it. His job was his hobby in a way, as had school been before he'd graduated. All his other interests were usually short lasted obsessions, intense while they were there, but gone as quickly as they'd come.
And then suddenly, it was as though Koyama had found his calling. Shige had been impressed with how hard he'd studied sign language, how much effort he'd put in, but he'd also half expected his scatterbrained friend to forget about it once 24 hour TV was over.
But Koyama hasn't stopped. And then with learning Korean and having his news show on top of that Shige is starting to feel like he's out of the loop. He can't find any solid reason for this feeling, but he still can't help thinking in the back of his mind that suddenly there's a huge part of Koyama's life that he has no place in.
It's stupid, irrational, completely illogical, but also very real in the way it makes his stomach clench and heart ache.
He knows he can't say anything about it, because what would Koyama do other than smile awkwardly and shrug, telling Shige it wasn't as if he didn't have his own interests?
Shige can't explain why he feels this way either. It's just that for so long, there was nothing about Koyama he didn't know, nothing that he couldn't be part of.
And now it feels a bit like Koyama's leaving him behind.
Title: Inspiration
Characters: Ryo
Rating: G
Summary: Sometimes Ryo finds it difficult to create
There are more scribbles than words on the paper. Line after not-good-enough line is blotted by scrawls, and Ryo sends his newest batch of words to join them, drowning them in a flow of ink from the tip of his pen.
He stares at the page with blank faced frustration, hoping that if he stared hard enough, the lyrics would write themselves. It would be nice if he could just click his fingers and the words would appear in front of him. Something deep and meaningful that flowed together and pulled at the heartstrings instead of the sea of scribbled out trite garbage that he’d been painstakingly etching out all day.
He tries again, hesitantly penning in another line, but it doesn’t sound quite right and he can’t quite get it to scan. With a growl of frustration, Ryo crosses it out again, digging the ballpoint into the paper and scraping back and forth until it tears. He scrunches it up and throws it at the wall, but it falls short and drops to the floor, soundless and unsatisfying.
He needs inspiration, or maybe a change of scenery; something that’ll cause a flash of brilliance and have lyrics streaming from his pen, the same way they did when he was younger and he’d just gotten his first guitar and dreamed of writing his own songs to sing up on stage one day.
But the cramped, stuffy space of his room is dark and uninspiring, and even though he knows it’s silly, Ryo feels like he’s never going to write anything beautiful again.
Pairing: Koyama/Tegoshi
Rating: G
Summary: Tegoshi takes up a lot of room when he's asleep
Tegoshi, Koyama thought, took up a lot of space when he slept. He was such a tiny thing usually, but the moment he closed his eyes and drifted off, he seemed to spread out in all directions.
Right now, dead to the world on Koyama's bed, was a classic example. An arm here, a leg there, spread eagled and diagonal, it was almost as though he was trying to take up as much space as humanly possible. Koyama's bed was a queen size, but Tegoshi, with all of his almost-170 centimetres of height, had somehow managed to make it so that even one more person couldn't have fit comfortably next to him.
He was cute though, Koyama thought fondly. That certainly didn't change whether he was awake or asleep. He looked like he was playing dead, all limp, with his arms thrown out above his head and legs at odd angles. It seemed like it should’ve been uncomfortable, but he must’ve been in that position for hours now.
Koyama glanced at the clock. It was getting close to midnight; the trains would be stopping soon, and Tegoshi hadn’t brought his car today.
It would probably be best to wake him but, after looking at how peacefully he was sleeping, Koyama figured it couldn’t hurt to leave him where he was.
The two of them would fit in the bed somehow.
Title: Inebriated
Characters: Masuda, Tegoshi
Rating: PG
Summary: Massu picks up a drunken Tegoshi from a party
He was sitting on the driveway when Massu pulled up, with a friend who looked much less worse for the wear next to him lending a shoulder to lean on.
Massu pulled over and stopped the car, and Tegoshi’s friend must have guessed who he was here for, because he jostled Tegoshi out of his daze and helped him to his feet.
Tegoshi had sounded a little tipsy on the phone when he’d asked if Massu could please come and get him because it wasn’t far from his house, but he hadn’t realised exactly how much so. As it turned out ‘a little’ didn’t really cover it, because the moment the friend let go of him to open the car door, Tegoshi fell backwards and landed on his ass.
Massu averted his eyes.
It wasn’t like he’d never been drunk before - he’d walked through the city with his friends at night before, drunk and singing and generally making a fool of himself - but he’d never let himself get as trashed as Tegoshi obviously was now. It was too embarrassing to watch him, and so he stared at the dashboard instead, thanking Tegoshi’s friend without actually making eye contact and waiting for him to close the door.
“Seatbelt,” Massu said, still refusing to look. Usually he wouldn’t insist, because Tegoshi never really wore his belt, but Massu didn’t want him doing something like slumping on top of his gearstick while they were driving down the street.
“Got it,” Tegoshi said, words loud and enunciation exaggerated, as though he was trying to hide the fact that he was completely plastered.
Massu waited until he heard the click of the belt before he switched the engine on, wishing Tegoshi had had someone else come and get him so he didn’t have to feel so uncomfortable. But the reality was that Tegoshi had him on speed dial, probably for work purposes, and he obviously hadn’t been in any state to carefully decide who to choose as his sober driver.
He wasn’t mad, not exactly - even though it was past one o’clock in the morning and his car was now permeated with the smell of liquor - because Tegoshi would have definitely done the same for him. He probably would’ve just laughed at Massu for getting so wasted, and wouldn’t have felt the tingle of shame that Massu was feeling for him now.
It made him a little guilty, but reasoned that it could only be because he cared, because he knew Tegoshi was better than this; this careless person who couldn’t walk by himself or stand up straight on his own two feet.
“I remember when you had a different car,” Tegoshi said out of the blue, and Massu laughed uncomfortably and switched the radio on so he wouldn’t have to try and make conversation.
Of course, once they reached Tegoshi’s apartment, Massu realised there was no way he could leave him to get inside by himself - he probably wouldn’t make it to the elevator.
With a heavy heart, Massu got out and headed around to the other side of the car to help Tegoshi out. Tegoshi slumped against him, warm and soft in his arms, smelling like beer and spirits and girly shampoo and Massu was torn between feeling protective and disapproving.
It was a struggle to get Tegoshi to fish his keys out of his bag, and even more of a struggle to get him up to his room, but they prevailed in the end. Once they were inside Tegoshi went straight for his bed, flopping on it without taking his clothes off, and again, Massu had to help by wrestling him out of his jeans and unbuttoning his shirt. Fortunately, Tegoshi was too drunk to make any wise cracks about Massu taking advantage of him, pliant as Massu helped him under the covers in only his boxers.
“Massu,” Tegoshi trilled his name softly, looking up with an adoring expression. “You’re my best friend.”
Massu felt his face flush, but there was a bit of fondness mixed in with the embarrassment in his expression this time.
“You’re drunk,” he said, smoothing Tegoshi’s bangs away from his forehead. “Are you okay if I go now?”
“I’m fine.” Tegoshi rolled onto his side, curling into a ball under the blankets. “Thank you.”
“Good night.” Massu switched off the light switch as he left the room, and he couldn’t help smiling to himself, because no matter how embarrassing Tegoshi was at times, he was always twice as cute.
Title: Growing pains
Characters: Koyama, Shigeaki
Rating: G
Summary: Shige feels a bit left out of Koyama's life
Shige has always been artistic, finding his niche in the mental, rather than in the physical like Massu. A lot of hobbies are artistic in nature; guitar, photography, writing, with more he wants to add to the list.
Koyama had never really been the sort who had many hobbies, if any at all. He loved music, of course, but he didn't create it. His job was his hobby in a way, as had school been before he'd graduated. All his other interests were usually short lasted obsessions, intense while they were there, but gone as quickly as they'd come.
And then suddenly, it was as though Koyama had found his calling. Shige had been impressed with how hard he'd studied sign language, how much effort he'd put in, but he'd also half expected his scatterbrained friend to forget about it once 24 hour TV was over.
But Koyama hasn't stopped. And then with learning Korean and having his news show on top of that Shige is starting to feel like he's out of the loop. He can't find any solid reason for this feeling, but he still can't help thinking in the back of his mind that suddenly there's a huge part of Koyama's life that he has no place in.
It's stupid, irrational, completely illogical, but also very real in the way it makes his stomach clench and heart ache.
He knows he can't say anything about it, because what would Koyama do other than smile awkwardly and shrug, telling Shige it wasn't as if he didn't have his own interests?
Shige can't explain why he feels this way either. It's just that for so long, there was nothing about Koyama he didn't know, nothing that he couldn't be part of.
And now it feels a bit like Koyama's leaving him behind.
Title: Inspiration
Characters: Ryo
Rating: G
Summary: Sometimes Ryo finds it difficult to create
There are more scribbles than words on the paper. Line after not-good-enough line is blotted by scrawls, and Ryo sends his newest batch of words to join them, drowning them in a flow of ink from the tip of his pen.
He stares at the page with blank faced frustration, hoping that if he stared hard enough, the lyrics would write themselves. It would be nice if he could just click his fingers and the words would appear in front of him. Something deep and meaningful that flowed together and pulled at the heartstrings instead of the sea of scribbled out trite garbage that he’d been painstakingly etching out all day.
He tries again, hesitantly penning in another line, but it doesn’t sound quite right and he can’t quite get it to scan. With a growl of frustration, Ryo crosses it out again, digging the ballpoint into the paper and scraping back and forth until it tears. He scrunches it up and throws it at the wall, but it falls short and drops to the floor, soundless and unsatisfying.
He needs inspiration, or maybe a change of scenery; something that’ll cause a flash of brilliance and have lyrics streaming from his pen, the same way they did when he was younger and he’d just gotten his first guitar and dreamed of writing his own songs to sing up on stage one day.
But the cramped, stuffy space of his room is dark and uninspiring, and even though he knows it’s silly, Ryo feels like he’s never going to write anything beautiful again.