On April 3, 2007, two girls came together to form this journal, a homage to a newfound passion and obsession - shiny japanese boyband gay. Thanks a lot, Japan
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”So tell us something about the title of your new single,” the female music show host says.
Massu remembers to smile before glancing uncertainly at their interpreter. Tegoshi appears to be concentrating hard, staring intensely at the host and probably scanning his mind for the right English word to use.
Or maybe he’s just checking the host out; Tegoshi has a thing for American blondes, Massu recalls.
“She wants you to say something about the single’s title,” the interpreter tells Massu.
“Ah!” The wattage of Massu’s smile rises a notch as he hears a query he can answer without too much difficulty. “Sushi Ra-bu. It is… ano…”
“The song is about the two lovers who are falling in love at the start of a sushi restaurant,” Tegoshi chirps, and the host manages to conceal her momentary confusion behind a chuckle.
Massu looks at Tegoshi with wonder in his eyes - Tegoshi is amazing, being able to make the host understand his words right off the bat. He wonders how Tegoshi manages to do it, studying English on top of his job and his classes and spoiling his pet dog.
Tegoshi’s hand brushes against Massu’s. “Relax!” he whispers, gracing Massu with a reassuring grin while the interpreter rapidly reiterates Tegoshi’s statement in proper English.
Massu glances at the studio audience. He sees blondes and brunettes and redheads tall and fair of complexion with eyes of every imaginable color, green and blue and hazel and brown upon him and Tegoshi. He suddenly feels small and vulnerable, and significantly out of place.
Tegoshi does not. Tegoshi speaks confidently, his broken English a source of affectionate delight for the host, who is inevitably warming up to him as she smiles widely and exclaims words Massu cannot understand. Tegoshi-kun is really cute, the interpreter supplies. I really hope America will see more from the two of you. Tegoshi beams.
“Will they?” Massu asks doubtfully, softly so that only Tegoshi can hear.
Tegoshi squeezes Massu’s hand. “Believe,” he murmurs, eyes dancing mischievously before sliding back into the host’s interested gaze.
The camera zooms in on their fresh faces, Massu’s a bit brighter and calmer than before, and their still intertwined fingers remain hidden.
Massu remembers to smile before glancing uncertainly at their interpreter. Tegoshi appears to be concentrating hard, staring intensely at the host and probably scanning his mind for the right English word to use.
Or maybe he’s just checking the host out; Tegoshi has a thing for American blondes, Massu recalls.
“She wants you to say something about the single’s title,” the interpreter tells Massu.
“Ah!” The wattage of Massu’s smile rises a notch as he hears a query he can answer without too much difficulty. “Sushi Ra-bu. It is… ano…”
“The song is about the two lovers who are falling in love at the start of a sushi restaurant,” Tegoshi chirps, and the host manages to conceal her momentary confusion behind a chuckle.
Massu looks at Tegoshi with wonder in his eyes - Tegoshi is amazing, being able to make the host understand his words right off the bat. He wonders how Tegoshi manages to do it, studying English on top of his job and his classes and spoiling his pet dog.
Tegoshi’s hand brushes against Massu’s. “Relax!” he whispers, gracing Massu with a reassuring grin while the interpreter rapidly reiterates Tegoshi’s statement in proper English.
Massu glances at the studio audience. He sees blondes and brunettes and redheads tall and fair of complexion with eyes of every imaginable color, green and blue and hazel and brown upon him and Tegoshi. He suddenly feels small and vulnerable, and significantly out of place.
Tegoshi does not. Tegoshi speaks confidently, his broken English a source of affectionate delight for the host, who is inevitably warming up to him as she smiles widely and exclaims words Massu cannot understand. Tegoshi-kun is really cute, the interpreter supplies. I really hope America will see more from the two of you. Tegoshi beams.
“Will they?” Massu asks doubtfully, softly so that only Tegoshi can hear.
Tegoshi squeezes Massu’s hand. “Believe,” he murmurs, eyes dancing mischievously before sliding back into the host’s interested gaze.
The camera zooms in on their fresh faces, Massu’s a bit brighter and calmer than before, and their still intertwined fingers remain hidden.
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