6 times Miyata thought of others... // Kis-My-Ft2
6 times Miyata thought of others before himself + 1 time someone thought of him first
Miyata, Kis-my-ft2
PG, 2554 words
A/N: à la EbiKisu Ficathon!
6 times Miyata thought of others before himself:
“Ne, ne, Miyacchi, pour me some too,” Senga demands, flopping down onto the couch next to Miyata. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch and flings his limbs out wide, in an attempt to cool down his sweat-drenched body.
It’s on the tip of Miyata’s tongue to make a joke about gorillas and their body odors, but he realizes the irony that would come from himself saying such a thing. Plus, after a full day’s dance practice, nobody can really complain about anyone else stinking with impunity. So instead, he turns back to the bottle of water in his hand, pours some into a makeshift paper cup, and nudges Senga in the ribs until the younger one moves to accept it.
Senga says thank you with a smile, and downs it in two gulps. Then he plucks the bottle out of Miyata’s hands, two thirds empty, and pours the rest of it over his head.
“What the hell,” exclaims Miyata. “Thanks a lot! Now there isn’t any water left!”
“There’s more in the cabinet over there,” says Senga, half-heartedly lifting an arm in the general direction of the back of the room.
“Stupid, where do you think I got this one? It was the last bottle in the supply cabinet. I rushed back here so I could save some for the two of us, you know. We need more water than the others, since we sweat so much, ne.”
“Ehhh? We’re out? Are you sure?” Senga looks so dismayed it’s comical. “I’m sorry, Miyacchi! I didn’t know!”
Miyata, looking down at Senga’s big, repentant eyes, can only chuckle. “It’s okay, Gacchan,” he says, tousling the younger boy’s hair affectionately. “You can’t help it since you’re chimpanzee-kun, right?”
~
When Fujigaya has a bad day, everybody knows it. He scowls and slams doors and makes caustic remarks and, in general, does his best to make everyone else’s day terrible as well. Kisumai (and Ebi) all know to stay out of the way at these times, too experienced with his moods to rise to the bait. Of an easy-going disposition himself, Miyata figures there's no point in brangling when he knows he'll lose to the older man's cutting remarks anyway.
However, the younger Juniors, unfortunately less aware, often get caught unawares. When, for instance, Shintaro chooses one of the bad days to bounce into their dressing room and muss up Fujigaya’s carefully styled hair, there’s a palpable cringe from the people lounging in the room. (Kitayama, pretending to be fast asleep on the couch, shifts and buries his face deeper into the cushion.)
“Oi!!” explodes Fujigaya, eyes kindling. “Don’t fucking touch - “
“Shin-chan,” Miyata says loudly, hurrying over. “Let’s go see what Kyomoto-kun is doing, okay?”
He hustles Shintaro out of the room and gives the boy a small hug and pat on the head before sending him off down the hall. He sighs, knowing that he’s just made himself the new scapegoat for Fujigaya’s temper; when he gets back to the dressing room, he’ll probably have his head snapped off. But, thinking of Shintaro’s big, scared eyes, Miyata supposes there wasn’t anything else he could have done.
~
The reputation Nikaido has for being bratty and KY is not unearned. When he incurs disapproval from a senpai for the fourth time in a week, Fujigaya stops laughing about it and instead makes him stay behind to do a thorough cleaning of their dressing room. Thus it happens that, armed with feather duster, mop, Windex, and a big roll of paper towels, Nikaido is left scowling as his bandmates happily leave for home.
(Even Senga breezes out with an oblivious “ganbatte, Takashi~!”
‘Et tu, Brute?’ mutters Nikaido, under his breath.)
At the doorway, Miyata, the last one to leave, takes a fatal glance over his shoulder. He thinks about the text message his mother had sent him a few hours ago - “better get home quickly today, or your brother will eat all the tonkatsu we’re having for dinner” - and frowns. But then he thinks that he’s probably not the only one looking forward to a good dinner; Nikaido probably has a delicious meal waiting for him at home too, and it would be unfair if he had to wait for it to get cold while everybody else got to go home on time.
Slowly, regretfully, he turns around and sets his duffel bag down by the door. “Want some help with that, Nika-chan?”
~
Yokoo is usually the responsible one, staying sober when the rest of the group gets trashed at nearby dive bars or dance clubs. But on the rare occasions that he does imbibe freely, it somehow always gets left up to Miyata to take care of the group and make sure all of them get home safely.
On Tamamori’s 20th birthday, he’s halfway through his fourth drink and building up to a healthy buzz when, on his right, Yokoo giggles loudly and knocks over three empty glasses with his arm. (On Miyata’s other side, Tamamori is already drunk and sweet and affectionate, rubbing his cheek contentedly against the sleeve of Miyata’s jacket.) Slowly, reluctantly, Miyata puts his drink down on the table and pushes it away from him. As much fun as it is to get drunk and silly with Tamamori, one of them has to take care of the others if Yokoo isn’t going to; Miyata only wonders how in the world he landed the role of the reliable member.
Two hours later, Tamamori has become whiney and clingy, while Yokoo alternates between complaining about feeling sick and making grabs for more alcohol. Fujigaya and Kitayama have disappeared somewhere further down the bar, a fact for which Miyata can only be thankful. Trying to deal with the two at hand is difficult enough as it is.
He’s this close to giving in to Tamamori’s cute pouting and letting Yokoo fend for himself when Kitayama appears out of the blue and peels Tamamori away from his side with suggestive raisings of eyebrows and stage whispers.
“Miyacchi can come play too, ne?” Kitayama nudges him none too gently in the side. “And Watta as well~”
Tamamori’s eyes light up, Miyata feels hope surging in his chest that this night might turn out well after all... and Yokoo chooses this moment to lean over and throw up on the floor. In no time flat, Kitayama and Tamamori are high-tailing it out of there.
“Next time, we’re definitely inviting ABC,” Miyata calls after them, “Tottsu can come take care of you all. I forfeit!”
~
Being thoughtful towards Tamamori comes easily and naturally, after all the years they’ve worked together.
Miyata knows, almost instinctively, when the younger man is most in need of five minutes’ rest, or to be saved from a failed joke, or even just a smile for a quick pick-me-up. He’s also learned, over time, how to read the subtle differences in Tamamori’s tone of voice or body language that indicate whether a hissed “stop that!” comes out of real annoyance or pleasured embarrassment. On stage, he can tell without looking when Kitayama’s teasing gets to be too much for Tamamori, and is always ready to stumble or fall or drop something, just to call the attention away from his flustered best friend.
(In any case, he doesn’t mind doing these things - enjoys it, even - because the little imperceptible sigh of relief Tamamori gives each time is just too cute to pass up.)
~
Miyata can hear the frown in Tamamori’s voice when he calls the younger man from the hospital to say doctor’s orders were for him to stay off his dislocated knee for a week. No dancing. No skating. Maybe a little bit of hobbling to work and watching the others practice, if he promises to take a cab to and from his doorstep.
“I know, I know,” he says in response to Tamamori’s sigh. “But I can’t help that it became dislocated!”
Tamamori scoffs. “Were you or were you not the one who wasn’t paying attention and jumped right into -"
“Okay okay,” Miyata interrupts in a hurry. “Fine, so it was my fault. But I still can’t dance.”
“Kitamitsu won’t be happy about it. You know how much effort he’s put into choreographing this for all seven of us.”
They’re supposed to perform the new program that Kitayama has been producing on Shounen Club that weekend, and Miyata knows how carefully Kitayama had planned everything so that all seven of them would be able to show off their personalities in the performance. He sighs. “I know. Look, I’ll come to practice tomorrow and we’ll go from there, okay? I’ll properly apologize to Kitamitsu and stuff. Just do me a favor and let everyone know I won’t make it back today, okay?”
True to his words, he hobbles into practice (late, thanks to his unwieldy new crutches) the next day and sits on a chair at the side of the room the entire time, doing the movements with his arms at least. Nobody really even makes fun of him for being so undignified as to dislocate his knee, although the older three give him half-irritated, half-fond looks through the mirror when he breaks a sweat just sitting there and waving around his arms. During the lunch break Miyata tries to apologize to Kitayama, who just rolls his eyes and tells him to go home if he doesn’t have anything better to do there than say useless things.
He doesn’t, of course, and comes to practice all week. He imagines himself standing in his position with everyone else, going through the routine, because he subscribes to the belief that if he can imagine himself doing it, then he’ll be able to actually do it in real life.
The day of filming is exactly a week after he hurt his knee, and he comes to the jimusho early to try and run through the routine by himself. When the other members arrive and find him in his roller skates, they all look at him darkly.
“You’re messing up the lineup again!” Fujigaya scowls. “Miyata!”
“But Kitamitsu worked so hard to show off our individualities. I don’t want his work to go to waste.”
“I appreciate the concern,” sighs Kitayama. “But you realize we’re filming today right? We only have time to run through the whole thing twice, before we go onstage.”
“I’ve been here all week, I can do it,” Miyata insists.
Kitayama stares back at him, but when Miyata stands his ground, turns and walks over to the stereo to put the song back on. “Fine, we’ll try it once and see.”
It hurts - a lot - especially on one spin at the end when he forgets to favor his good knee, but Miyata does the entire thing with only two minor mistakes. He’s proud of himself, and Tamamori’s encouraging look prompts him to ask, “So do I pass the test? I can stand onstage with everyone right?”
“Stupid,” says Fujigaya, slapping him upside the head so lightly it feels more like a pat.
Kitayama nods, still a little reluctant, but the small smile on his face tells Miyata that he’s grateful.
~
+ 1 time someone thought of him first:
“You’re stupid,” Fujigaya tells him, leaning casually against the back wall of the elevator.
Miyata, who had been waiting for the elevator with a quiet, downcast expression and hadn’t expected to see anybody inside, tries to school his expression back into the bright smile that he’d been wearing all day. It’s hard to do, caught off-guard as he is, and he’s tired of pretending to be in high spirits when he’s been feeling so gloomy and stressed out lately.
“You’re stupid,” repeats Fujigaya. “Will you stop with the fake smile already. Nobody’s fooled.” And then, “Aren’t you getting in?”
“Oh... Y-yeah.” Miyata steps inside, letting the smile slip away from his lips.
As the door closes behind him, Fujigaya grabs Miyata’s wrist and pulls him forward, until their lips meet.
It’s a steady and warm kiss, lacking in real passion but tasting wonderfully of encouragement and camaraderie. It’s the kind of kiss that, instead of making Miyata’s knees weak, makes him want to stand up taller instead. They both pull away as the elevator comes to a stop on the first floor, and Miyata feels compelled to smooth down his shirt even though Fujigaya hadn’t really touched him at all.
“Stop doubting yourself,” Fujigaya says in an unusually gentle voice as they head towards different exits, “After all, you’re an idol too, right?”
They both snort a little in laughter at the joke. This time, the smile comes easily to Miyata, and it lingers at the corners of his lips all the way home.
~
Bonus:
“Help me!” wails Senga, rubbing violently at the back of his head and making all his hair stand up on end. “I don’t know what to write!”
Nikaido swats Senga’s hand away from his hair, then combs it back into order with his fingers. He leans over his best friend’s shoulders to look at the paper in front of him. “‘Dear Miyata...’ That’s it?! Come on, it’s way too easy to write a letter to Miyata! You can talk about his big nose, or how he sweats too much...”
“Or how he sucks at roller skating,” Fujigaya adds, wandering over.
“Or how he’s not very idol-like,” says Kitayama around a mouthful of senbei.
“Or how he only loves Tama-chan.” Yokoo goes to supervise Senga’s letter-writing as well.
“Or how his jokes are always lame,” Kawai, in the Kisumai dressing room as usual, chimes in.
“Miyacchi’s easy to make fun of, ne,” observes Tamamori, placidly.
Across the room, Miyata looks up from chewing on the end of his pencil, disgruntled. “I’m having a hard time too! Why doesn’t anyone come help me?”
Nobody responds to this, their heads all bent over the letter Senga is writing. Trying to look nonchalant, Miyata tries to eavesdrop on what they’re saying, but all he can catch is hushed tones and an occasional smothered giggle, neither of which bode well for the impending letter exchange segment on Shounen Club. He turns back to his own letter with a sigh.
Prepared by this incident to laugh off a lot of teasing insinuations during the filming, Miyata is surprised when Senga talks about his good points instead. He’s not very good with compliments yet, so he can only smile awkwardly, hyper-aware of the camera trained on his face. But when the spotlights dim and they step out of sight of the audience, his smile widens into such a wide grin that he thinks his lips might as well just split and be done with it.
Later, as they stand in the wings waiting for the final song, Fujigaya throws his head back and laughs at Miyata’s self-satisfied expression. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Big Nose! It’s just cause Kenpi knows he can’t make fun of you without the same joke coming back to bite him in the ass too.”
“Okay,” accepts Miyata with his typical blinding smile. He points out Nikaido’s untied shoelace and helps Tamamori pin up a falling piece of his outfit, before running out into the spotlight, together with his friends.
Miyata, Kis-my-ft2
PG, 2554 words
A/N: à la EbiKisu Ficathon!
6 times Miyata thought of others before himself:
“Ne, ne, Miyacchi, pour me some too,” Senga demands, flopping down onto the couch next to Miyata. He lets his head loll against the back of the couch and flings his limbs out wide, in an attempt to cool down his sweat-drenched body.
It’s on the tip of Miyata’s tongue to make a joke about gorillas and their body odors, but he realizes the irony that would come from himself saying such a thing. Plus, after a full day’s dance practice, nobody can really complain about anyone else stinking with impunity. So instead, he turns back to the bottle of water in his hand, pours some into a makeshift paper cup, and nudges Senga in the ribs until the younger one moves to accept it.
Senga says thank you with a smile, and downs it in two gulps. Then he plucks the bottle out of Miyata’s hands, two thirds empty, and pours the rest of it over his head.
“What the hell,” exclaims Miyata. “Thanks a lot! Now there isn’t any water left!”
“There’s more in the cabinet over there,” says Senga, half-heartedly lifting an arm in the general direction of the back of the room.
“Stupid, where do you think I got this one? It was the last bottle in the supply cabinet. I rushed back here so I could save some for the two of us, you know. We need more water than the others, since we sweat so much, ne.”
“Ehhh? We’re out? Are you sure?” Senga looks so dismayed it’s comical. “I’m sorry, Miyacchi! I didn’t know!”
Miyata, looking down at Senga’s big, repentant eyes, can only chuckle. “It’s okay, Gacchan,” he says, tousling the younger boy’s hair affectionately. “You can’t help it since you’re chimpanzee-kun, right?”
~
When Fujigaya has a bad day, everybody knows it. He scowls and slams doors and makes caustic remarks and, in general, does his best to make everyone else’s day terrible as well. Kisumai (and Ebi) all know to stay out of the way at these times, too experienced with his moods to rise to the bait. Of an easy-going disposition himself, Miyata figures there's no point in brangling when he knows he'll lose to the older man's cutting remarks anyway.
However, the younger Juniors, unfortunately less aware, often get caught unawares. When, for instance, Shintaro chooses one of the bad days to bounce into their dressing room and muss up Fujigaya’s carefully styled hair, there’s a palpable cringe from the people lounging in the room. (Kitayama, pretending to be fast asleep on the couch, shifts and buries his face deeper into the cushion.)
“Oi!!” explodes Fujigaya, eyes kindling. “Don’t fucking touch - “
“Shin-chan,” Miyata says loudly, hurrying over. “Let’s go see what Kyomoto-kun is doing, okay?”
He hustles Shintaro out of the room and gives the boy a small hug and pat on the head before sending him off down the hall. He sighs, knowing that he’s just made himself the new scapegoat for Fujigaya’s temper; when he gets back to the dressing room, he’ll probably have his head snapped off. But, thinking of Shintaro’s big, scared eyes, Miyata supposes there wasn’t anything else he could have done.
~
The reputation Nikaido has for being bratty and KY is not unearned. When he incurs disapproval from a senpai for the fourth time in a week, Fujigaya stops laughing about it and instead makes him stay behind to do a thorough cleaning of their dressing room. Thus it happens that, armed with feather duster, mop, Windex, and a big roll of paper towels, Nikaido is left scowling as his bandmates happily leave for home.
(Even Senga breezes out with an oblivious “ganbatte, Takashi~!”
‘Et tu, Brute?’ mutters Nikaido, under his breath.)
At the doorway, Miyata, the last one to leave, takes a fatal glance over his shoulder. He thinks about the text message his mother had sent him a few hours ago - “better get home quickly today, or your brother will eat all the tonkatsu we’re having for dinner” - and frowns. But then he thinks that he’s probably not the only one looking forward to a good dinner; Nikaido probably has a delicious meal waiting for him at home too, and it would be unfair if he had to wait for it to get cold while everybody else got to go home on time.
Slowly, regretfully, he turns around and sets his duffel bag down by the door. “Want some help with that, Nika-chan?”
~
Yokoo is usually the responsible one, staying sober when the rest of the group gets trashed at nearby dive bars or dance clubs. But on the rare occasions that he does imbibe freely, it somehow always gets left up to Miyata to take care of the group and make sure all of them get home safely.
On Tamamori’s 20th birthday, he’s halfway through his fourth drink and building up to a healthy buzz when, on his right, Yokoo giggles loudly and knocks over three empty glasses with his arm. (On Miyata’s other side, Tamamori is already drunk and sweet and affectionate, rubbing his cheek contentedly against the sleeve of Miyata’s jacket.) Slowly, reluctantly, Miyata puts his drink down on the table and pushes it away from him. As much fun as it is to get drunk and silly with Tamamori, one of them has to take care of the others if Yokoo isn’t going to; Miyata only wonders how in the world he landed the role of the reliable member.
Two hours later, Tamamori has become whiney and clingy, while Yokoo alternates between complaining about feeling sick and making grabs for more alcohol. Fujigaya and Kitayama have disappeared somewhere further down the bar, a fact for which Miyata can only be thankful. Trying to deal with the two at hand is difficult enough as it is.
He’s this close to giving in to Tamamori’s cute pouting and letting Yokoo fend for himself when Kitayama appears out of the blue and peels Tamamori away from his side with suggestive raisings of eyebrows and stage whispers.
“Miyacchi can come play too, ne?” Kitayama nudges him none too gently in the side. “And Watta as well~”
Tamamori’s eyes light up, Miyata feels hope surging in his chest that this night might turn out well after all... and Yokoo chooses this moment to lean over and throw up on the floor. In no time flat, Kitayama and Tamamori are high-tailing it out of there.
“Next time, we’re definitely inviting ABC,” Miyata calls after them, “Tottsu can come take care of you all. I forfeit!”
~
Being thoughtful towards Tamamori comes easily and naturally, after all the years they’ve worked together.
Miyata knows, almost instinctively, when the younger man is most in need of five minutes’ rest, or to be saved from a failed joke, or even just a smile for a quick pick-me-up. He’s also learned, over time, how to read the subtle differences in Tamamori’s tone of voice or body language that indicate whether a hissed “stop that!” comes out of real annoyance or pleasured embarrassment. On stage, he can tell without looking when Kitayama’s teasing gets to be too much for Tamamori, and is always ready to stumble or fall or drop something, just to call the attention away from his flustered best friend.
(In any case, he doesn’t mind doing these things - enjoys it, even - because the little imperceptible sigh of relief Tamamori gives each time is just too cute to pass up.)
~
Miyata can hear the frown in Tamamori’s voice when he calls the younger man from the hospital to say doctor’s orders were for him to stay off his dislocated knee for a week. No dancing. No skating. Maybe a little bit of hobbling to work and watching the others practice, if he promises to take a cab to and from his doorstep.
“I know, I know,” he says in response to Tamamori’s sigh. “But I can’t help that it became dislocated!”
Tamamori scoffs. “Were you or were you not the one who wasn’t paying attention and jumped right into -"
“Okay okay,” Miyata interrupts in a hurry. “Fine, so it was my fault. But I still can’t dance.”
“Kitamitsu won’t be happy about it. You know how much effort he’s put into choreographing this for all seven of us.”
They’re supposed to perform the new program that Kitayama has been producing on Shounen Club that weekend, and Miyata knows how carefully Kitayama had planned everything so that all seven of them would be able to show off their personalities in the performance. He sighs. “I know. Look, I’ll come to practice tomorrow and we’ll go from there, okay? I’ll properly apologize to Kitamitsu and stuff. Just do me a favor and let everyone know I won’t make it back today, okay?”
True to his words, he hobbles into practice (late, thanks to his unwieldy new crutches) the next day and sits on a chair at the side of the room the entire time, doing the movements with his arms at least. Nobody really even makes fun of him for being so undignified as to dislocate his knee, although the older three give him half-irritated, half-fond looks through the mirror when he breaks a sweat just sitting there and waving around his arms. During the lunch break Miyata tries to apologize to Kitayama, who just rolls his eyes and tells him to go home if he doesn’t have anything better to do there than say useless things.
He doesn’t, of course, and comes to practice all week. He imagines himself standing in his position with everyone else, going through the routine, because he subscribes to the belief that if he can imagine himself doing it, then he’ll be able to actually do it in real life.
The day of filming is exactly a week after he hurt his knee, and he comes to the jimusho early to try and run through the routine by himself. When the other members arrive and find him in his roller skates, they all look at him darkly.
“You’re messing up the lineup again!” Fujigaya scowls. “Miyata!”
“But Kitamitsu worked so hard to show off our individualities. I don’t want his work to go to waste.”
“I appreciate the concern,” sighs Kitayama. “But you realize we’re filming today right? We only have time to run through the whole thing twice, before we go onstage.”
“I’ve been here all week, I can do it,” Miyata insists.
Kitayama stares back at him, but when Miyata stands his ground, turns and walks over to the stereo to put the song back on. “Fine, we’ll try it once and see.”
It hurts - a lot - especially on one spin at the end when he forgets to favor his good knee, but Miyata does the entire thing with only two minor mistakes. He’s proud of himself, and Tamamori’s encouraging look prompts him to ask, “So do I pass the test? I can stand onstage with everyone right?”
“Stupid,” says Fujigaya, slapping him upside the head so lightly it feels more like a pat.
Kitayama nods, still a little reluctant, but the small smile on his face tells Miyata that he’s grateful.
~
+ 1 time someone thought of him first:
“You’re stupid,” Fujigaya tells him, leaning casually against the back wall of the elevator.
Miyata, who had been waiting for the elevator with a quiet, downcast expression and hadn’t expected to see anybody inside, tries to school his expression back into the bright smile that he’d been wearing all day. It’s hard to do, caught off-guard as he is, and he’s tired of pretending to be in high spirits when he’s been feeling so gloomy and stressed out lately.
“You’re stupid,” repeats Fujigaya. “Will you stop with the fake smile already. Nobody’s fooled.” And then, “Aren’t you getting in?”
“Oh... Y-yeah.” Miyata steps inside, letting the smile slip away from his lips.
As the door closes behind him, Fujigaya grabs Miyata’s wrist and pulls him forward, until their lips meet.
It’s a steady and warm kiss, lacking in real passion but tasting wonderfully of encouragement and camaraderie. It’s the kind of kiss that, instead of making Miyata’s knees weak, makes him want to stand up taller instead. They both pull away as the elevator comes to a stop on the first floor, and Miyata feels compelled to smooth down his shirt even though Fujigaya hadn’t really touched him at all.
“Stop doubting yourself,” Fujigaya says in an unusually gentle voice as they head towards different exits, “After all, you’re an idol too, right?”
They both snort a little in laughter at the joke. This time, the smile comes easily to Miyata, and it lingers at the corners of his lips all the way home.
~
Bonus:
“Help me!” wails Senga, rubbing violently at the back of his head and making all his hair stand up on end. “I don’t know what to write!”
Nikaido swats Senga’s hand away from his hair, then combs it back into order with his fingers. He leans over his best friend’s shoulders to look at the paper in front of him. “‘Dear Miyata...’ That’s it?! Come on, it’s way too easy to write a letter to Miyata! You can talk about his big nose, or how he sweats too much...”
“Or how he sucks at roller skating,” Fujigaya adds, wandering over.
“Or how he’s not very idol-like,” says Kitayama around a mouthful of senbei.
“Or how he only loves Tama-chan.” Yokoo goes to supervise Senga’s letter-writing as well.
“Or how his jokes are always lame,” Kawai, in the Kisumai dressing room as usual, chimes in.
“Miyacchi’s easy to make fun of, ne,” observes Tamamori, placidly.
Across the room, Miyata looks up from chewing on the end of his pencil, disgruntled. “I’m having a hard time too! Why doesn’t anyone come help me?”
Nobody responds to this, their heads all bent over the letter Senga is writing. Trying to look nonchalant, Miyata tries to eavesdrop on what they’re saying, but all he can catch is hushed tones and an occasional smothered giggle, neither of which bode well for the impending letter exchange segment on Shounen Club. He turns back to his own letter with a sigh.
Prepared by this incident to laugh off a lot of teasing insinuations during the filming, Miyata is surprised when Senga talks about his good points instead. He’s not very good with compliments yet, so he can only smile awkwardly, hyper-aware of the camera trained on his face. But when the spotlights dim and they step out of sight of the audience, his smile widens into such a wide grin that he thinks his lips might as well just split and be done with it.
Later, as they stand in the wings waiting for the final song, Fujigaya throws his head back and laughs at Miyata’s self-satisfied expression. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Big Nose! It’s just cause Kenpi knows he can’t make fun of you without the same joke coming back to bite him in the ass too.”
“Okay,” accepts Miyata with his typical blinding smile. He points out Nikaido’s untied shoelace and helps Tamamori pin up a falling piece of his outfit, before running out into the spotlight, together with his friends.