Sugarcoats and Heartbeats
Aoi would rake his hand through his hair and shake his head softly, musing on how stupid it was to be so obsessed over something so human such as giving a fake smile.
✖
Call it impulse, but Aoi had always been easily smitten by the things that suddenly flash in front of him. Those things, no matter how silly or insignificant, are usually the ones that greatly affect him somehow. At eighteen he had a promising career of being a professional surfer. Who would’ve thought that twelve years later, he would be in front of this camera with his face caked in dark make-up and his once (and still, he’d like to believe) muscular body dressed in complicated clothing?
All of these were because of that certain TV show from years back and the simple, foolish wish of ‘I wanna be as cool as that.’
He blinked once, nodding towards the interviewer then smiling at the camera, almost forgetting about the interview taking place. Then again, with the woman paying attention to only what Uruha had to say, it wasn’t very unlikely for him - and the other three, for that matter - to space out. At the corner of his eye Aoi watched his fellow guitarist answer and dodge the questions this nosy interviewer threw at him. When the younger just laughed and said how much fun the interview had been for him, Aoi narrowed his eyes.
• • •
Days have passed and while the image of Uruha’s fake smile did not replay in Aoi’s mind theatre, it was still there, pushed in the corners of his subconscious. That would be the only reason as to why he always tried to obsessively classify whether the younger man was showing a genuine smile or not. It wasn’t right to suspect his band mate like that, but this was a part of Uruha he had never really paid attention before. When something piqued Aoi’s interest, he wouldn’t stop until he got to the bottom of it, whether he’s doing it knowingly or not. He was a curious man, after all.
That mere curiosity pushed Aoi to get the other man better. Sometimes he found himself staring at the younger as he fixed his amp while recording, and when Uruha looks right back at him, he wouldn’t look away. For one he wasn’t ashamed of staring because it wasn’t as if he’s hurting anybody, but mainly because he wanted to see how Uruha would react. While Aoi could be considered the most distant out of the five of them, Uruha could certainly give the coldest stares anybody could ever throw. At least, that was the case for Aoi.
Sometimes he found himself running after Uruha for no reason at all, as if trying to seek for his approval. Of course he’d seek for his approval when it comes to playing - after all, Aoi did regard Uruha for his guitar skills - but he couldn’t understand why this was so for other things as well, like something as small as going out to eat or asking for help with his television. There’s just this certain charm to Uruha that Aoi discovered as he tried getting to know the younger. He wondered whether Ruki, Reita, or Kai noticed that too, but even if they did, it would seem that he was the only one really affected by it. It was a blow on his pride, but he couldn’t help but be drawn by it.
And sometimes he found himself lying on some hotel bed with sheets tangled on his chest and limbs, his nose catching the faint scent of Uruha’s cologne and the murky odor of sex. This was probably the closest he’d be able to get with Uruha - although he’s pushed through the barriers of clothing and body, he still couldn’t break through the barriers of the younger’s mind. Aoi would rake his hand through his hair and shake his head softly, musing on how stupid it was to be so obsessed over something so human such as giving a fake smile.
• • •
One thing led to another. Aoi was simply asking for the others to go out with him to lunch, and what he got was an annoyed Uruha walking beside him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The older first made a face as he turned away from Uruha, sighing in defeat.
“You really didn’t have to come.”
“You’re the one complaining we haven’t hung out lately.”
Aoi raised a brow. “Maybe I did, but if we’re gonna hang out, I wouldn’t want you to do it begrudgingly.”
“I’m not.” With that Uruha pushed his way in to the small restaurant where Aoi had suggested, and that pretty much ended their conversation.
It had been a fairly quiet lunch - perhaps with the exception of Aoi occasionally asking Uruha to pass him a tissue or so - but not awkward. Aoi was more content with the silence that lingered, and the unadulterated crease on the younger’s expression, telling him that he’d rather be somewhere else than here. Uruha’s face always gave away his feelings, or at least, Aoi’s been observing him long enough to decipher those emotions. There was no point for Uruha to try hiding them anyway, really. Whatever his reason for accompanying him out was still unclear to the older, but at least Aoi knew Uruha wasn’t doing it out of simple common courtesy.
They exited the restaurant as quietly as they entered it, and the way back to the studio seemed longer as they were returning. This time it was Aoi who had his hands in his pockets, while Uruha walked with his arms folded across his chest.
“It’s kinda hot,” the younger commented, that being his first ever attempt of breaking the silence ever since he went out with Aoi. The latter simply quirked a brow and turned around a bit, looking for something.
“Wait here,” he gestured towards a nearby seat, “I’m gonna get us some ice cream.”
For a moment Uruha stared at Aoi like a deer caught in headlights before nodding and heading to the suggested bench.
Aoi came back with two ice cream cones in hand, both coated in rich chocolate syrup and colorful sprinkles. Uruha let out a small laugh upon seeing the treat and nodded silently in gratitude as Aoi gave him his ice cream. The older sat down beside him, staring straight at the road where cars continued to bustle and businessmen hurried back to their offices, though looking at nothing in particular.
A couple of laps at the sugary treat and Uruha decided to break the silence again. “Aoi?”
“Hmm?” the older turned, shooting a questioning look at the other man.
He smiled slightly, though it wasn’t as bright as the ones he threw their fans or fake as the one he offered that interviewer from months ago. “Thanks.”
Maybe this was the reason why all these times, he persisted in trying to understand what Uruha’s smiles meant. Maybe he wasn’t trying to understand merely the smiles anymore, but Uruha himself. And similar to those years back, Aoi didn’t regret letting his sudden fixation for something trivial to affect any of his actions - it was all for a simple smile.
A curve tugged at the end of Aoi’s lips too; though similarly small, it was as heartfelt as well.
✖
Call it impulse, but Aoi had always been easily smitten by the things that suddenly flash in front of him. Those things, no matter how silly or insignificant, are usually the ones that greatly affect him somehow. At eighteen he had a promising career of being a professional surfer. Who would’ve thought that twelve years later, he would be in front of this camera with his face caked in dark make-up and his once (and still, he’d like to believe) muscular body dressed in complicated clothing?
All of these were because of that certain TV show from years back and the simple, foolish wish of ‘I wanna be as cool as that.’
He blinked once, nodding towards the interviewer then smiling at the camera, almost forgetting about the interview taking place. Then again, with the woman paying attention to only what Uruha had to say, it wasn’t very unlikely for him - and the other three, for that matter - to space out. At the corner of his eye Aoi watched his fellow guitarist answer and dodge the questions this nosy interviewer threw at him. When the younger just laughed and said how much fun the interview had been for him, Aoi narrowed his eyes.
• • •
Days have passed and while the image of Uruha’s fake smile did not replay in Aoi’s mind theatre, it was still there, pushed in the corners of his subconscious. That would be the only reason as to why he always tried to obsessively classify whether the younger man was showing a genuine smile or not. It wasn’t right to suspect his band mate like that, but this was a part of Uruha he had never really paid attention before. When something piqued Aoi’s interest, he wouldn’t stop until he got to the bottom of it, whether he’s doing it knowingly or not. He was a curious man, after all.
That mere curiosity pushed Aoi to get the other man better. Sometimes he found himself staring at the younger as he fixed his amp while recording, and when Uruha looks right back at him, he wouldn’t look away. For one he wasn’t ashamed of staring because it wasn’t as if he’s hurting anybody, but mainly because he wanted to see how Uruha would react. While Aoi could be considered the most distant out of the five of them, Uruha could certainly give the coldest stares anybody could ever throw. At least, that was the case for Aoi.
Sometimes he found himself running after Uruha for no reason at all, as if trying to seek for his approval. Of course he’d seek for his approval when it comes to playing - after all, Aoi did regard Uruha for his guitar skills - but he couldn’t understand why this was so for other things as well, like something as small as going out to eat or asking for help with his television. There’s just this certain charm to Uruha that Aoi discovered as he tried getting to know the younger. He wondered whether Ruki, Reita, or Kai noticed that too, but even if they did, it would seem that he was the only one really affected by it. It was a blow on his pride, but he couldn’t help but be drawn by it.
And sometimes he found himself lying on some hotel bed with sheets tangled on his chest and limbs, his nose catching the faint scent of Uruha’s cologne and the murky odor of sex. This was probably the closest he’d be able to get with Uruha - although he’s pushed through the barriers of clothing and body, he still couldn’t break through the barriers of the younger’s mind. Aoi would rake his hand through his hair and shake his head softly, musing on how stupid it was to be so obsessed over something so human such as giving a fake smile.
• • •
One thing led to another. Aoi was simply asking for the others to go out with him to lunch, and what he got was an annoyed Uruha walking beside him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The older first made a face as he turned away from Uruha, sighing in defeat.
“You really didn’t have to come.”
“You’re the one complaining we haven’t hung out lately.”
Aoi raised a brow. “Maybe I did, but if we’re gonna hang out, I wouldn’t want you to do it begrudgingly.”
“I’m not.” With that Uruha pushed his way in to the small restaurant where Aoi had suggested, and that pretty much ended their conversation.
It had been a fairly quiet lunch - perhaps with the exception of Aoi occasionally asking Uruha to pass him a tissue or so - but not awkward. Aoi was more content with the silence that lingered, and the unadulterated crease on the younger’s expression, telling him that he’d rather be somewhere else than here. Uruha’s face always gave away his feelings, or at least, Aoi’s been observing him long enough to decipher those emotions. There was no point for Uruha to try hiding them anyway, really. Whatever his reason for accompanying him out was still unclear to the older, but at least Aoi knew Uruha wasn’t doing it out of simple common courtesy.
They exited the restaurant as quietly as they entered it, and the way back to the studio seemed longer as they were returning. This time it was Aoi who had his hands in his pockets, while Uruha walked with his arms folded across his chest.
“It’s kinda hot,” the younger commented, that being his first ever attempt of breaking the silence ever since he went out with Aoi. The latter simply quirked a brow and turned around a bit, looking for something.
“Wait here,” he gestured towards a nearby seat, “I’m gonna get us some ice cream.”
For a moment Uruha stared at Aoi like a deer caught in headlights before nodding and heading to the suggested bench.
Aoi came back with two ice cream cones in hand, both coated in rich chocolate syrup and colorful sprinkles. Uruha let out a small laugh upon seeing the treat and nodded silently in gratitude as Aoi gave him his ice cream. The older sat down beside him, staring straight at the road where cars continued to bustle and businessmen hurried back to their offices, though looking at nothing in particular.
A couple of laps at the sugary treat and Uruha decided to break the silence again. “Aoi?”
“Hmm?” the older turned, shooting a questioning look at the other man.
He smiled slightly, though it wasn’t as bright as the ones he threw their fans or fake as the one he offered that interviewer from months ago. “Thanks.”
Maybe this was the reason why all these times, he persisted in trying to understand what Uruha’s smiles meant. Maybe he wasn’t trying to understand merely the smiles anymore, but Uruha himself. And similar to those years back, Aoi didn’t regret letting his sudden fixation for something trivial to affect any of his actions - it was all for a simple smile.
A curve tugged at the end of Aoi’s lips too; though similarly small, it was as heartfelt as well.