JE/NEWS- "Four Times Koyama Helps Yamapi Undress (And One Time There isn’t an Audience)"
Title: Four Times Koyama Helps Yamapi Undress (And One Time There isn’t an Audience)
Universe: JE/ NewS
Theme/Topic: Koyapi!
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: NEWS (lightly KoyamaxYamapi)
Warnings/Spoilers: Stupidity as per usual.
Word Count: 2,075 (I FAIL AT DRABBLES OK)
Summary: These things have a natural progression.
Dedication: Mousapelli’s request on my request meme! Two to go. *thumbs up*
A/N: LOL I wonder why my f-list seems to want to make me write Yamapi stuff. Kind of odd all things considered, but I’ll do my best. *pumps fist* Also I kind of rushed through this but I needed to do something that doesn’t give me a headache like my script does.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
1.
The first time it happens it is purely out of necessity; the concert halls they play in are all relatively small when NEWS initially starts touring and as such, there aren’t any fancy stage mechanisms available for them to sprint into or disappear under a lot of the time. Right now they can hear Massu’s solo as it hits the halfway point from the main stage; that means the other members have just under two and a half minutes to get changed before the next set, the seven of them all squeezed together off to the side of the spotlights, where the staff have managed (somehow) to line up each of their individual wardrobe racks in a circle behind the curtain.
Koyama is the one whose wardrobe has been placed beside Yamapi’s when it happens; he is half out of his first shirt and into his second when he hears Yamapi make a strange noise through his nose from nearby. Naturally Koyama turns and looks to see if anything is wrong; when he does he discovers that Yamapi is almost out of his own shirt as well, except that in the meantime, the wire connecting Yamapi’s ear piece to his mic box has somehow gotten tangled up in all the feathery, sequin-y bits of the shirt that serve no functional purpose. “Yabai,” Koyama hears Yamapi exclaim to himself, as the group leader stumbles around, trying to muscle the shirt out of the tangle of wire and feather in order to make it back out in time.
From there Koyama only does what comes naturally; he reaches out to help someone who needs his help without thinking or hesitating, without first remembering the whole tacitly understood Yamapi-is-our-dai-senpai-and-thus-cannot-be-spoken-to-or-touched-or-even-looked-at-for-long-amounts-of-time rule that has been in place in NEWS’s dressing room since its formation not long ago.
Koyama breaks the rules without meaning to and quickly tries to disentangle Yamapi.
The two of them end up dancing in strange circles together for the next thirty seconds after that, as they each pray to the untangling gods to please release the poor sequins from the wire before they’re destroyed and the outfits can no longer be passed down to the juniors anymore.
They don’t make a lot of progress, despite how fervently each of them seems to be praying. Finally, Koyama lets go, puts his hands on Yamapi’s shoulders, and makes the younger idol stand still for a moment. He critically studies the tangle as the time on Massu’s song winds down in the background, too quickly for comfort.
They still have to change their pants.
After a beat Koyama finally tells Yamapi, “Up!” when he thinks he gets it.
“Up?” Yamapi murmurs, not getting it at all. He looks up.
Koyama throws his hands up in the air over his head to demonstrate. “Up!”
“Up!” Yamapi repeats, and finally gets it. He puts his arms up.
“Spin,” Koyama instructs next, carefully, and Yamapi nods, brow furrowed in intense concentration. Yamapi spins.
From there, Koyama successfully disentangles the worst of the wire as Yamapi spins. In the background, he vaguely hears Shige hiss, “What the hell are you doing?!” to him in a frantic, disbelieving sort of way.
“Untangling,” Koyama explains over his shoulder at his friend despite knowing he broke everyone’s tacitly understood rule without thinking. He’ll apologize later, but right at this moment he turns back to Yamapi and says, “Stop,” because they only have about a minute until Massu is finished dancing.
Yamapi happily obliges him.
Wire thus successfully disentangled, Koyama reaches out and pulls Yamapi’s shirt off the rest of the way for him, just as Massu hits his climactic dance sequence and the audience inexplicably bursts into a wave of appreciative gasps and shrieks that nearly drowns out the instrumental.
Koyama blinks.
Yamapi blinks.
The faces of hundreds of delighted fan girls blink back of them, as the two of them stand on the very edge of the stage together, Yamapi shirtless, Yamapi’s shirt in Koyama’s hand, Koyama’s own shirt hanging half off of him.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Shige repeats again, louder this time. “Get back behind the curtain!! The curtain!”
Shige, Koyama thinks, looks kind of pained.
Then Shige tries speaking slower, because the look on his face suggests that Koyama clearly needs it to understand anything. “You’re no longer behind the curtain! You have spun yourself and Yamashita-san back onto the stage,” he informs them.
“Oh,” is all Koyama says, weakly.
And then he continues to sheepishly hold Yamapi’s shirt just like that, while Ryo rolls his eyes and mutters something disbelieving before reaching out and wordlessly dragging them both back to safety.
2.
“Maybe we ought to practice,” Yamapi suggests thoughtfully, a few days after the first time. “For next time.”
Koyama blinks and realizes that the things Yamapi said just now had been to him. Yamapi is talking to him. It’s like Yamapi is breaking his own tacitly understood rule about himself; is that even possible?
Koyama shakes his head and realizes that because Yamapi had just spoken to him he should probably respond; he frantically tries to relocate their current train of thought. “Practice? Next time?” he manages, eventually.
The train is short, kind of like the bus Shige always accuses him of riding to school.
Yamapi slowly puts his arms up over his head. “Up!”
Koyama blinks some more. “Up?”
Yamapi nods and looks a little embarrassed as he does, kind of like how Koyama had looked the other day after Ryo had pulled the two of them back to safety, while Koyama had been frantically apologizing to both Ryo and Yamapi for not paying attention to where they were spinning and for touching without asking. “For next time,” Yamapi repeats, arms still in the air. “That’s the signal for when I need Koyama-kun’s help. Okay?”
Koyama feels dizzy just thinking about the concept of Yamapi needing his help. He stares a little, and his mouth is probably open. Images of progressively shorter buses zoom through his head.
Yamapi starts to get impatient in the meantime, and that slightly embarrassed look on his face starts to get a little more embarrassed at the same time, in a way that Koyama can only describe as cute, somehow.
Yamapi, arms up, begins to shake his hands a little. “So? This is the signal, right? Can you remember it?”
Koyama nods. “Right. Yes. So…that’s the signal and that means I should…”
He reaches forward then, and grabs the hem of Yamapi’s tank top. He pulls it off of Yamapi in one easy, fluid motion. “Like that.”
Yamapi seems relieved. “Like that.”
And then the two of them stand there for a minute, Koyama holding Yamapi’s shirt and Yamapi smiling like something important just happened in NEWS. Maybe it did.
Maybe it is what one would call a moment.
A moment that is completely ruined another moment later, when Kusano whistles, “Whooo hooo!” from the back of the room at them and flashes Koyama a thumbs up while doing something perverted with his eyebrows and making porn-music noises.
From there, Ryo reaches out and smacks Kusano, Uchi cackles on impact, and Shige mutters, “Will NEWS really be okay like this?” to himself while holding his head like he was the one who’d gotten hit and not Kusano.
Koyama looks at Yamapi and Yamapi smiles back and Koyama holds Yamapi’s shirt while thinking that Shige shouldn’t frown so much anymore, because maybe NEWS really will be okay after all.
3.
The third time it happens is on the next concert tour and when it does Koyama grins, Yamapi wiggles, the audience swoons, and as Koyama feels Yamapi put his bare arm around his shoulders, he hears Yamapi whisper, “Perfect!” in his ear like they’ve been doing it all their lives.
There is the feel of skin against skin, the euphoria of knowing that Yamapi can be spoken to and touched, and the hope that NEWS’s future will give Koyama more opportunities to learn all the things about his groupmates that their images lie about.
4.
The fourth time is many years and a pair of members removed. Reuniting after eight months gone is like seeing your old middle school friends after you’ve graduated from high school; you remember some things and some things are the same but some things are very different now too.
There is nervousness, but not the same kind of nervousness as before; it’s as different now as Tegoshi’s face has become, as different as Shige’s hair and the way they’ve learned to interpret Ryo’s constant harping at them.
They perform together with all the euphoria of coming home and all the freshness of a second start, and when Koyama thinks that everything has changed, when he feels a pang at the thought that everything has changed, Yamapi jogs up to him in the middle of the encore-carefree and familiar-and puts his hands up in the air over his head without a word.
Koyama automatically reaches forward, grabs the hem of Yamapi’s shirt, and pulls Yamapi closer as he pulls the shirt up, pulls it over. From there, the audience’s screaming gets so furious it almost sounds like nothing, and Yamapi’s grin is huge and real and the words from before suddenly hit Koyama head on again, “This is our second chance. This is our new beginning.”
Koyama holds Yamapi’s shirt-warm in his hands-and realizes he’s relieved to learn that new beginnings and second chances don’t mean having to start from nothing all over again.
Sometimes you can just pick up where you left off.
5.
Things in 2010 are different.
Koyama is in his street clothes shaking off the cold from outside as he flashes his access badge at the security guard standing in front of the door just before it happens; he gets a silent nod and the okay to enter in response as he slips quietly into the backstage dressing room, a dressing room for one person that by itself, is already two times as large as that small space they’d shared in the first years of NEWS, the eight of them cramped behind the curtain beside the stage with their wardrobes arranged all in a circle and only two minutes to change before the next set.
Yamapi is there now, after another solo tour, after another show, exhausted and sweaty and all by himself in a giant room that has enough space for NEWS three times over.
“Sorry to intrude,” Koyama starts by way of greeting, when he sees Yamapi in the middle of the room, in the middle of taking off his boots.
“Koyama,” Yamapi murmurs, when he sees, and smiles tiredly in greeting.
“I just wanted come by and say that leader’s show was very good,” Koyama says first, because it seems important to let Yamapi know. “You really shone brightly with the spotlight on you like that, ne.”
Vaguely, distantly, he feels himself begin to wonder how long it will be before they can shine together like that again, nostalgia welling up somewhere in his chest as he remembers the feel of holding the members’ hands at the end of the concert and bowing together one year ago, fingers intertwined, voices shouting together in unison.
It wasn’t all that long ago when he thinks about it, but it certainly feels like it.
Yamapi seems to understand-he always seems to understand without actually meaning to-and as he takes a step forward Koyama automatically takes one too, and even before Yamapi’s arms are fully raised Koyama’s hands are on the hem of his shirt, effortlessly tugging it up, tugging it over, tugging it off.
The shirt is warm in Koyama’s hands for a moment before it’s fluttering out of them and down to the ground; Yamapi’s forehead hits his shoulder after that and Yamapi’s voice is low and full of warmth and familiarity.
“Doing this alone is a lot of work!” he exclaims with a small laugh, and Koyama knows exactly what he means.
He ends up grinning too, and after a moment, Yamapi snickers secretively and grabs Koyama’s arm, setting the taller idol’s hand on his hips, just along the edge of his white leather belt.
“Koyama,” he says, in what is simply the natural progression of the two of them after this many years, “pants!”
Koyama laughs- “Yes, yes,” he says- and unbuckles Yamapi’s belt.
END
EDITS? PROBABLY TYPOS EVERYWHERE YES.
Universe: JE/ NewS
Theme/Topic: Koyapi!
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: NEWS (lightly KoyamaxYamapi)
Warnings/Spoilers: Stupidity as per usual.
Word Count: 2,075 (I FAIL AT DRABBLES OK)
Summary: These things have a natural progression.
Dedication: Mousapelli’s request on my request meme! Two to go. *thumbs up*
A/N: LOL I wonder why my f-list seems to want to make me write Yamapi stuff. Kind of odd all things considered, but I’ll do my best. *pumps fist* Also I kind of rushed through this but I needed to do something that doesn’t give me a headache like my script does.
Disclaimer: No harm or infringement intended.
1.
The first time it happens it is purely out of necessity; the concert halls they play in are all relatively small when NEWS initially starts touring and as such, there aren’t any fancy stage mechanisms available for them to sprint into or disappear under a lot of the time. Right now they can hear Massu’s solo as it hits the halfway point from the main stage; that means the other members have just under two and a half minutes to get changed before the next set, the seven of them all squeezed together off to the side of the spotlights, where the staff have managed (somehow) to line up each of their individual wardrobe racks in a circle behind the curtain.
Koyama is the one whose wardrobe has been placed beside Yamapi’s when it happens; he is half out of his first shirt and into his second when he hears Yamapi make a strange noise through his nose from nearby. Naturally Koyama turns and looks to see if anything is wrong; when he does he discovers that Yamapi is almost out of his own shirt as well, except that in the meantime, the wire connecting Yamapi’s ear piece to his mic box has somehow gotten tangled up in all the feathery, sequin-y bits of the shirt that serve no functional purpose. “Yabai,” Koyama hears Yamapi exclaim to himself, as the group leader stumbles around, trying to muscle the shirt out of the tangle of wire and feather in order to make it back out in time.
From there Koyama only does what comes naturally; he reaches out to help someone who needs his help without thinking or hesitating, without first remembering the whole tacitly understood Yamapi-is-our-dai-senpai-and-thus-cannot-be-spoken-to-or-touched-or-even-looked-at-for-long-amounts-of-time rule that has been in place in NEWS’s dressing room since its formation not long ago.
Koyama breaks the rules without meaning to and quickly tries to disentangle Yamapi.
The two of them end up dancing in strange circles together for the next thirty seconds after that, as they each pray to the untangling gods to please release the poor sequins from the wire before they’re destroyed and the outfits can no longer be passed down to the juniors anymore.
They don’t make a lot of progress, despite how fervently each of them seems to be praying. Finally, Koyama lets go, puts his hands on Yamapi’s shoulders, and makes the younger idol stand still for a moment. He critically studies the tangle as the time on Massu’s song winds down in the background, too quickly for comfort.
They still have to change their pants.
After a beat Koyama finally tells Yamapi, “Up!” when he thinks he gets it.
“Up?” Yamapi murmurs, not getting it at all. He looks up.
Koyama throws his hands up in the air over his head to demonstrate. “Up!”
“Up!” Yamapi repeats, and finally gets it. He puts his arms up.
“Spin,” Koyama instructs next, carefully, and Yamapi nods, brow furrowed in intense concentration. Yamapi spins.
From there, Koyama successfully disentangles the worst of the wire as Yamapi spins. In the background, he vaguely hears Shige hiss, “What the hell are you doing?!” to him in a frantic, disbelieving sort of way.
“Untangling,” Koyama explains over his shoulder at his friend despite knowing he broke everyone’s tacitly understood rule without thinking. He’ll apologize later, but right at this moment he turns back to Yamapi and says, “Stop,” because they only have about a minute until Massu is finished dancing.
Yamapi happily obliges him.
Wire thus successfully disentangled, Koyama reaches out and pulls Yamapi’s shirt off the rest of the way for him, just as Massu hits his climactic dance sequence and the audience inexplicably bursts into a wave of appreciative gasps and shrieks that nearly drowns out the instrumental.
Koyama blinks.
Yamapi blinks.
The faces of hundreds of delighted fan girls blink back of them, as the two of them stand on the very edge of the stage together, Yamapi shirtless, Yamapi’s shirt in Koyama’s hand, Koyama’s own shirt hanging half off of him.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Shige repeats again, louder this time. “Get back behind the curtain!! The curtain!”
Shige, Koyama thinks, looks kind of pained.
Then Shige tries speaking slower, because the look on his face suggests that Koyama clearly needs it to understand anything. “You’re no longer behind the curtain! You have spun yourself and Yamashita-san back onto the stage,” he informs them.
“Oh,” is all Koyama says, weakly.
And then he continues to sheepishly hold Yamapi’s shirt just like that, while Ryo rolls his eyes and mutters something disbelieving before reaching out and wordlessly dragging them both back to safety.
2.
“Maybe we ought to practice,” Yamapi suggests thoughtfully, a few days after the first time. “For next time.”
Koyama blinks and realizes that the things Yamapi said just now had been to him. Yamapi is talking to him. It’s like Yamapi is breaking his own tacitly understood rule about himself; is that even possible?
Koyama shakes his head and realizes that because Yamapi had just spoken to him he should probably respond; he frantically tries to relocate their current train of thought. “Practice? Next time?” he manages, eventually.
The train is short, kind of like the bus Shige always accuses him of riding to school.
Yamapi slowly puts his arms up over his head. “Up!”
Koyama blinks some more. “Up?”
Yamapi nods and looks a little embarrassed as he does, kind of like how Koyama had looked the other day after Ryo had pulled the two of them back to safety, while Koyama had been frantically apologizing to both Ryo and Yamapi for not paying attention to where they were spinning and for touching without asking. “For next time,” Yamapi repeats, arms still in the air. “That’s the signal for when I need Koyama-kun’s help. Okay?”
Koyama feels dizzy just thinking about the concept of Yamapi needing his help. He stares a little, and his mouth is probably open. Images of progressively shorter buses zoom through his head.
Yamapi starts to get impatient in the meantime, and that slightly embarrassed look on his face starts to get a little more embarrassed at the same time, in a way that Koyama can only describe as cute, somehow.
Yamapi, arms up, begins to shake his hands a little. “So? This is the signal, right? Can you remember it?”
Koyama nods. “Right. Yes. So…that’s the signal and that means I should…”
He reaches forward then, and grabs the hem of Yamapi’s tank top. He pulls it off of Yamapi in one easy, fluid motion. “Like that.”
Yamapi seems relieved. “Like that.”
And then the two of them stand there for a minute, Koyama holding Yamapi’s shirt and Yamapi smiling like something important just happened in NEWS. Maybe it did.
Maybe it is what one would call a moment.
A moment that is completely ruined another moment later, when Kusano whistles, “Whooo hooo!” from the back of the room at them and flashes Koyama a thumbs up while doing something perverted with his eyebrows and making porn-music noises.
From there, Ryo reaches out and smacks Kusano, Uchi cackles on impact, and Shige mutters, “Will NEWS really be okay like this?” to himself while holding his head like he was the one who’d gotten hit and not Kusano.
Koyama looks at Yamapi and Yamapi smiles back and Koyama holds Yamapi’s shirt while thinking that Shige shouldn’t frown so much anymore, because maybe NEWS really will be okay after all.
3.
The third time it happens is on the next concert tour and when it does Koyama grins, Yamapi wiggles, the audience swoons, and as Koyama feels Yamapi put his bare arm around his shoulders, he hears Yamapi whisper, “Perfect!” in his ear like they’ve been doing it all their lives.
There is the feel of skin against skin, the euphoria of knowing that Yamapi can be spoken to and touched, and the hope that NEWS’s future will give Koyama more opportunities to learn all the things about his groupmates that their images lie about.
4.
The fourth time is many years and a pair of members removed. Reuniting after eight months gone is like seeing your old middle school friends after you’ve graduated from high school; you remember some things and some things are the same but some things are very different now too.
There is nervousness, but not the same kind of nervousness as before; it’s as different now as Tegoshi’s face has become, as different as Shige’s hair and the way they’ve learned to interpret Ryo’s constant harping at them.
They perform together with all the euphoria of coming home and all the freshness of a second start, and when Koyama thinks that everything has changed, when he feels a pang at the thought that everything has changed, Yamapi jogs up to him in the middle of the encore-carefree and familiar-and puts his hands up in the air over his head without a word.
Koyama automatically reaches forward, grabs the hem of Yamapi’s shirt, and pulls Yamapi closer as he pulls the shirt up, pulls it over. From there, the audience’s screaming gets so furious it almost sounds like nothing, and Yamapi’s grin is huge and real and the words from before suddenly hit Koyama head on again, “This is our second chance. This is our new beginning.”
Koyama holds Yamapi’s shirt-warm in his hands-and realizes he’s relieved to learn that new beginnings and second chances don’t mean having to start from nothing all over again.
Sometimes you can just pick up where you left off.
5.
Things in 2010 are different.
Koyama is in his street clothes shaking off the cold from outside as he flashes his access badge at the security guard standing in front of the door just before it happens; he gets a silent nod and the okay to enter in response as he slips quietly into the backstage dressing room, a dressing room for one person that by itself, is already two times as large as that small space they’d shared in the first years of NEWS, the eight of them cramped behind the curtain beside the stage with their wardrobes arranged all in a circle and only two minutes to change before the next set.
Yamapi is there now, after another solo tour, after another show, exhausted and sweaty and all by himself in a giant room that has enough space for NEWS three times over.
“Sorry to intrude,” Koyama starts by way of greeting, when he sees Yamapi in the middle of the room, in the middle of taking off his boots.
“Koyama,” Yamapi murmurs, when he sees, and smiles tiredly in greeting.
“I just wanted come by and say that leader’s show was very good,” Koyama says first, because it seems important to let Yamapi know. “You really shone brightly with the spotlight on you like that, ne.”
Vaguely, distantly, he feels himself begin to wonder how long it will be before they can shine together like that again, nostalgia welling up somewhere in his chest as he remembers the feel of holding the members’ hands at the end of the concert and bowing together one year ago, fingers intertwined, voices shouting together in unison.
It wasn’t all that long ago when he thinks about it, but it certainly feels like it.
Yamapi seems to understand-he always seems to understand without actually meaning to-and as he takes a step forward Koyama automatically takes one too, and even before Yamapi’s arms are fully raised Koyama’s hands are on the hem of his shirt, effortlessly tugging it up, tugging it over, tugging it off.
The shirt is warm in Koyama’s hands for a moment before it’s fluttering out of them and down to the ground; Yamapi’s forehead hits his shoulder after that and Yamapi’s voice is low and full of warmth and familiarity.
“Doing this alone is a lot of work!” he exclaims with a small laugh, and Koyama knows exactly what he means.
He ends up grinning too, and after a moment, Yamapi snickers secretively and grabs Koyama’s arm, setting the taller idol’s hand on his hips, just along the edge of his white leather belt.
“Koyama,” he says, in what is simply the natural progression of the two of them after this many years, “pants!”
Koyama laughs- “Yes, yes,” he says- and unbuckles Yamapi’s belt.
END
EDITS? PROBABLY TYPOS EVERYWHERE YES.