of pretty girls and falling
Title: Of Pretty Girls and Falling
Pairing: Ryo/Toda Erika, Ryo/Shige
Rating: R
Word Count: 5800+
Notes: For silver_rose88 for je_whiteday. Originally posted here.
Summary: Ryo thinks there should be a limit as to how far one can fall.
Of Pretty Girls and Falling
Ryo meets her the first day of rehearsal.
She sits demurely in a rickety plastic chair, one that creaks whenever she shifts. Her bangs are swept loosely back, hair silk and a spill of waves. When she catches Ryo’s eye, she smiles.
“Nishikido-kun,” she says, “Let’s work well together.” The bow of her head is a smooth tilt, one that causes hair to tumble forward and bares a flash of pale skin on the back of her neck.
He tries to think of words to say in face of such a pretty girl. Thinks there should be a hello or an I’ll do my best or something, anything to fill the silence between them. But nothing comes to him and all thought processes falter. Instead, Ryo swallows and slowly nods in response. His smile is awkward, bow hurried and crooked.
He thinks this loss of words around the girl with simply elegant looks, brilliant smile and graceful poise will continue to cripple him every time he’s around her. The thought worries him a little.
Only a little though, because he is more preoccupied with the way she quickly says hello to Ninomiya and he warmly greets her back, with a wide grin and charming laugh. A vague sort of jealousy makes him turn away to hide the flush of his heated cheeks.
Filming starts and Ryo nearly falters with his lines because whenever he looks at her something in him clenches tight. She is beautiful in a way that unnerves him more than it should, in a way that bewilders him and makes his throat itch and skin burn. A mere girl has never confused him more and it doesn’t make any sense.
During a five minute break, she grabs a bottle of water and glances at Ryo, flashes him a lopsided grin. “So, have you ever worked with Ninomiya-kun before?”
His throat closes. He stutters. “No. Well, at countdown. But not really. Not like this,” he manages.
An awkward pause.
She tries again. “So, what do you think of the script?” she asks. Her smile this time is hesitant, unsure of how to approach Ryo’s inability to make simple conversation.
Ryo coughs, and has trouble breathing for a moment. His eyes settle on the hem of her cotton alabaster sleeve. “It’s good,” he mutters.
He doesn’t elaborate and after a moment, she raises an elegant brow. “I see,” she says slowly. The director calls her at that moment and her eyes reflect relief. “I’ll talk to you later,” she sighs softly, before walking to the director’s side. Ryo breathes and pinches the skin on the back of his hand. It hurts.
Ryo wonders if this is when he falls in love with Toda Erika, when she looks at him with her large doe eyes and almost buckteeth and says hello for the very first time.
But he doubts it, because falling in love has never been that easy.
He calls Shige days after meeting her, after they finish filming.
As far as filming days go, this one wasn’t his best. Ryo can’t help but be perpetually distracted by the way Erika’s snow white dress cascades carelessly around her thighs. He glimpses peeks of goose-pimpled flesh as she lies on the blanket outside and rubs the inside of her thighs with pretty soft hands to be as warm as possible. Beside her, Nino whines as Erika grabs his cell phone, giggling loudly as she goes through the contacts.
Ryo leaves the filming site hurriedly, images of Erika that make him quiver burned into his retinas. He calls Shige and leaves a curt message as he bounds down a flight of stairs to exit the studio.
Shige arrives at Ryo’s apartment three hours later.
Ryo supposes that being this distracted by a girl he still hasn’t really talked to is sort of weird. After all, he doesn’t think many of his friends go about pursuing their crushes by refusing to talk to them.
Yamapi is the first to notice, the first to call Ryo out on his minor obsession.
He does so on a Thursday evening when all Ryo, Jin, and Yamapi plan on doing is watching bad action movies and getting completely wasted. Jin guffaws and Yamapi stifles his giggles poorly; Ryo is mortified when they laughingly claim that every time Erika is mentioned in casual conversation, Ryo gets an odd look on his face and a blush dots the very tip of his ears.
“I would like her too,” Jin says wisely, nodding as he downs his third shot of the night. “She’s hot stuff. Could use more booty, but you know. Still hot.”
Yamapi snorts, “You think? She’s got no body. I like my women with breasts, thank you very much.”
“You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?” Ryo groans as he punches them both meekly and buries his face in his jacket.
Yamapi and Jin share a mutually sadistic grin and Jin’s gleeful tone of voice makes Ryo shudder.
“What do you think?” he asks.
In the next months, Jin talks about Erika almost every chance he gets. He is childlike in his teasing; he likes seeing Ryo squirm at the thought of Erika, finds it hilarious that Ryo acts like a teenager when it comes to this crush.
Yamapi doesn’t mention her as much, thinks it must be annoying for Ryo (he knows what it’s like to have Jin as a best friend, knows that Jin likes to push limits and then some), but that doesn’t stop him from jabbing Ryo about it every now and then, especially when he wants something from him.
Ryo remembers the last time he had had a stupid celebrity crush, the infamous one with Leah Dizon. He remembers the teasing that would last for days, the dirty quips about her rack, the friendly jeers at him for jacking off to her magazine photos late at night and dreaming of sleeping between her perfect breasts.
But there is something about Toda Erika that makes him infinitely curious. It isn’t just about thinking of her overly big eyes, square jutting jaw and pale fluttery hands. It is about something more, about her toothy grin and crystal-like laugh, her sarcasm on set and her ability to set a light mood in any room. It is about wanting to ask Erika how her day was, what she likes to do on her days off, whether she has time for coffee after filming.
He wants to, but the real matter is that he can’t. Can’t stop the explosion of frantic heartbeats that rip into his chest the moment she walks in and glances at him, petite body dwarfed by the doorframe. Can’t speak in full sentences around her without stuttering, can’t quite summon the courage to say more than simple greetings.
He just can’t around her. And that scares the shit out of him.
It’s been weeks since the first day they met, since the first day they had to work together, and Ryo still can’t talk to Erika in a way that isn’t totally embarrassing. When Erika looks at him, his breathing halts. When she smiles, his stomach curls.
And he knows that Erika knows. Her glances at him are aware, yet at the same time a little confused, and even then she still tries to say hello and talk to him. It’s endearing actually, Erika trying repeatedly to pry Ryo open, but it isn’t Erika’s fault that his throat closes up and his brain shuts off and all he can do in those moments is notice the perfume that lingers on her skin and wafts through the air between them.
However, when she mentions on air that Ryo refuses to talk to her, it devastates him. He is a wreck the rest of the interview.
Erika is charming and a bundle of energy on set, smiling gracefully and sitting demurely. Next to her, Ryo blurts out stupid responses and can barely look her in the eye. He tells her not to look at him and he can’t stem the flow of profuse apologizes with each question asked. His answers are short and awkward and Ryo hasn’t felt this useless in a long time.
When the filming for that promotional spot is done, Ryo races out of the studio and leans his head against a cool wall surface. He breathes through his nose, presses flushed cheek against lime stucco, and then he hears melodic laughter right by the curve of his ear.
“You are so shy,” Erika marvels, before poking his collarbone lightly with a manicured nail. Her next words are light but her eyes almost apprehensive, “Really, I don’t know why you don’t talk to me.” She swallows, “I’m not going to bite, honest.”
Ryo nods dumbly. “I’m sorry,” he manages, and then cringes at the overused apology. Erika laughs again awkwardly before flashing him a quick lopsided smile and ambling to her dressing room.
Throughout the rest of the day, Ryo finds himself on edge. Every moment he is around Erika is heightened like never before, and put simply, it frustrates him. Later in the day, Ryo somehow gathers the nerve to make small talk with Erika, and though his effort is inane and his questions lame, Erika’s eyes light up in surprise and she answers with delighted honesty.
Despite this reassurance, Ryo’s stomach still twists and his breaths grow short and he can’t calm the thud thud thud of his racing heart.
When filming for the day is done he rushes out, much like he always does, and texts Shige as he fumbles with his car keys.
“My place. Whenever you want.”
Shige arrives thirty minutes later and all it takes is for the door to slam shut before Ryo is yanking Shige towards him.
They’ve never really talked about what they do together, he and Shige, and if Ryo were honest, he doesn’t quite know himself. He knows that there is this thing between them, something, but they’ve never bothered (or never known how) to define it.
Shige keeps up with Ryo, gives as good as he takes, and Ryo doesn’t know when it starts, only how. Knows that they were at Ryo’s place and there was an argument over something stupid, about Shige’s tea or the scripts scattered across the living room coffee table. He doesn’t remember what they fought about but that they fought, and then there was yelling and getting so close that Ryo could see individual lashes and a pimple by Shige’s left ear. That is when Shige first grabbed Ryo by the collar and fit their lips together almost painfully, and Ryo could only growl as he stuffed his hand past the thick band of Shige’s jeans.
When Ryo wakes up the first time he finds Shige’s arm draped loosely over his pectoral, eyes lazily trained on the birthmark just below Ryo’s right hip. Ryo swats it away with a nervous glance as he waits, unsure of what to say.
Shige looks at Ryo for a long while before he smiles, which is all Ryo needs for the leaden weight of Shige’s arm to suddenly feel as light as foam. Shige moves first, pulling on boxers and looking for tossed socks, while Ryo ambles into the kitchen and puts some coffee beans into the machine.
They walk into their photo shoot that day with subtle glances and awkward touches, but while Ryo wonders if this would be a onetime thing, Shige, apparently, has other plans. This onetime thing they do turns into a two time thing a week later, into a three time thing four days after that, and eventually it comes to a point where Ryo stops counting.
Instead, he focuses on Shige.
Ryo learns that Shige gets really horny and needy right before his exams and he learns even faster that Shige is willing to do anything, everything, when he’s in that kind of state. Ryo finds that Shige whines when he doesn’t get his way and is never embarrassed to tell Ryo exactly what he wants and how. Ryo revels in the fact that Shige’s sharp body angles and juts into all the wrong places, but somehow it still feels so good, still fits so right with Ryo’s own.
What it really boils down to is the fact that Ryo has grown used to waking up in the morning to this body that is languid and awkward-fitting and perfect. Shige isn’t going to bitch at him for scratching his balls, he isn’t going to care that Ryo sometimes just wants to get laid and get off. He likes not worrying about when to call or how, and he especially likes laughing at Shige when he blindly fumbles with clothes in the dark of his room and bangs into the foot of Ryo’s bed every night.
The morning after this time is like any other. Shige lays languorously, limbs splayed, sleepy energy seeping into the sable pillowcase and sheets. The buzz from the night before is still there, faint but heady, and Ryo takes it in leisurely. His toes curl and his chest stretches, and while caressing Shige’s shoulder he crawls out of bed and into the bathroom.
It doesn’t take long before Shige stumbles into the kitchen with a tired groan. His torso is bare, jeans loose and riding on the jut of his hips. Shige grimaces as he yawns and Ryo smiles at the sight.
“How’s Ryusei no Kizuna?” Shige asks as he grabs a striped mug from the dish rack. He sits down as he always does, on the chair closest to the wall, the one with the chip on the bottom edge. Shige stretches, nibbles on some toast, and Ryo grabs the mug and fills it with Columbian brew.
Ryo thinks about the multitude of answers he could give Shige, from Fine to Toda Erika is breathtakingly gorgeous to I can’t stop thinking about her.
He settles for the obvious: “Nino’s a douchebag.”
Shige looks at him oddly, chuckling, “That’s not what I asked.”
Ryo pauses before shrugging calmly, handing Shige the sugar bowl and creamer.
On one day, Ryo sits in a corner poring over the script as she dances in a periwinkle dress to music that plays through her headphones. And he would be lying if he said he was entirely focused on his script, because Erika’s legs are long and smooth and her smile laced with happiness.
A couple of minutes later, Ryo feels Erika pull up a chair beside him and he forces himself to focus on the paper before him.
When Erika lets out a low hum, he looks up and nearly jolts back. Her gaze is tight on Ryo’s face, and just when Ryo is about to back away, Erika giggles. “I really like those glasses,” she says warmly. “They make you look very good.”
Ryo’s hand reaches instinctively towards the lenses and he flushes. Jin had given him the pair a while ago as a birthday present, and he had always liked wearing them (not to mention his eyesight wasn’t as good as before, but he doesn’t like admitting that).
“Like I wasn’t good looking before?” he mumbles defensively, and then his eyes widen as he realizes how that sounds.
But Erika laughs, “Of course you were. Everyone knows that.”
Ryo buries his head in his arms, glasses nudging perceptibly into the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he groans.
She slowly stops giggling and splays out on the table beside him, arms cradling her head and hair cascading over her face. Ryo has the distinct urge to brush the hair away but manages to stop himself, fists clenching tight in restraint.
A calm washes over them and Erika sighs.
“Star-crossed lovers,” Erika says softly. Ryo flashes her a confused look and she flushes, pressing her cheek deep into the skin of her arm. “I mean,” she mumbles, “I’ve been thinking about star-crossed lovers.”
She pauses before continuing, “I know Shizuna and Togami are, but, what does that mean? Isn’t being star-crossed wanting to be with someone but not being able to? Does it always have to be a Romeo and Juliet situation?”
She twists loose strands of her hair and gathers her thoughts. “Whether the person is circumstantially out of reach or plain just out of your league or even doesn’t feel the same. In a way, doesn’t that make the relationship star-crossed? Like you’re there but the other person isn’t, can’t be, never will be,” she pauses, scrunches her nose. “Does that make sense?”
Before Ryo can respond she lets out a frustrated breath, “Never mind, I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“No,” Ryo says. “I get it.” You and I are star-crossed lovers. “It makes sense.”
Erika still looks embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” she mutters, “I tend to ramble.”
“Rambling is good for the soul,” Ryo says wisely.
She laughs, “Maybe. Thanks for listening anyway.”
At that moment, the director calls Erika’s name. With a quick flash of a smile she bounds to the director’s side, leaving Ryo sitting silent and stunned, like something monumental has just occurred.
The next time he sees her he decides to call her Erika-chan, despite the nervousness that settles in the pit of his lungs like lead. She doesn’t do anything but raise a brow in reaction, but Ryo feels like he’s taken another step forward in their relationship anyway. It’s an amazing feeling, one that amplifies the thumping in his chest and makes his mouth split almost supernaturally into a grin.
Later that night, Jin calls Ryo to hang out at his place and Ryo thinks about the day’s events. He smiles, “Thanks for the glasses.”
There is a crackly pause before Jin laughs, “What? That was ages ago, are you still on that? I can’t help having excellent taste.”
Ryo shakes his head laughingly, even though he knows Jin can’t see it through the phone, “I guess you’re useful after all,” Ryo muses, and laughs even harder at Jin’s indignant squeal.
He uses the name from that day forward.
Finally NEWS has a thirty minute break in between their concert-planning meetings and when Shige motions to Ryo to follow him, he does. Shige leads them outside and from there, their movements are habitual. Ryo pops open a cigarette box and Shige snags one as he hands Ryo his lighter. For a while they smoke silently and watch the way their puffs linger heavy and toxic in the air.
Ryo is about to ask Shige how his day had been when Shige glances at Ryo as he taps his cigarette against the rail; ashes crumble to the floor. He looks at Ryo. “You don’t talk much about Toda-san.”
There is a silence as Ryo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what Shige is really trying to say. Shige smiles softly, “When you talk about Ryusei no Kizuna, it’s always about how Ninomiya-kun is a pain in the ass.”
At that, Ryo huffs. “That’s because he is,” he scoffs firmly.
Shige laughs, but the sounds seem strained, confused even. “Sometimes I think you like her.” Shige clears his throat. He glances at Ryo but Ryo doesn’t look back. Instead his fingers tighten around his cigarette and cigarette smoke wisps grey in the air and he has nothing to say in response.
Shige holds Ryo’s chin and gently lifts it up. A few seconds pass and then Shige’s smile cracks. He swallows as he leans in to Ryo’s mouth, breath hot and sulphuric down his throat. Ryo nearly coughs but he angles his lips roughly against Shige’s and breathes in the acid smoke that saturates their mouths.
Ryo’s birthday comes on a day when he isn’t filming with Erika. Which is a good thing, he supposes, because the last thing Ryo wants to do is embarrass himself on his birthday.
Still, it’s kind of lonely during filming, and he spends most of it eating frosted cake he doesn’t want and flipping idly through his cell phone inbox. There are messages from band members (Shige’s text is brief but congratulatory nonetheless), from old friends, from dear family, but no matter how long Ryo waits, nothing appears from the one cast member he thinks about most.
In the end, Ryo resigns himself to an Erika-less birthday and when Yamapi and Jin show up on his doorstep to take him out, Ryo decides not to think about her. Or, at least he tries.
It is at the club to which Yamapi and Jin drag him where he gets the one message he’s been waiting for all day.
“Happy birthday, Nishikido-kun,” the text reads. “I hope you have a great night!” There is a heart attached to the message that blinks and the elation that spreads with each blink is almost alarming.
He is reminded of his surroundings when Jin stumbles over with a drunken cheer and slaps Ryo on the back. “What is it?” he yells over the roar of the thumping bass that pounds throughout the dance floor and reverberates through their bodies.
“Everything.” Ryo’s grin sears his face as he sidles up to a girl writhing next to him and dances close against her curves, imagining for a moment that it was Erika’s body to which he was pressed.
Later when he grabs some water and takes a breather, he saves the message.
“Who are you thinking about?” Shige breathes while they are pressed against each other and he is still lying halfway on top of Ryo, buried deep inside Ryo’s body.
“Fuck, seriously man?” The immediate panic that seeps into his hazed mind overtakes his senses. Ryo thinks he knows what Shige is really asking, and he can already feel himself start to grow soft; he groans unintelligible sounds. Shige shifts and Ryo grits his teeth, “Get out of me, you fucker.”
Shige complies and Ryo kneels on cotton sheets. “Who do you think about when we fuck?” Shige lays flat on his back with arms loosely crossed. He curls his toes and scratches his right thigh, struggling to control his short breath.
Eventually he calms down and his eyelids flutter; his next words are cautious but resolved, determined. “Are you thinking about Toda-san?”
Ryo curses under his breath. But then he looks at Shige and he swallows at the insecurity in Shige’s shining eyes. He takes a deep breath and answers honestly; cotton ruffles underneath him as he awkwardly shifts his legs. “I’m not thinking about Erika-chan,” he says.
Shige scoffs, “Then what are you thinking about?” He buries his face in a pillow and Ryo gives up on sitting, lying next to Shige’s rigid figure with care. Shige’s voice is soft, painfully so, and Ryo can barely catch his words. “You don’t feel one hundred percent with me, not anymore.”
“I don’t,” Ryo exhales, “I don’t think about her when we.” He feels a weight like bricks constrict his throat, but one look at Shige’s face and he knows he has to tell the truth. “I think about her a lot,” Ryo says carefully, “I’m not going to deny that I think about her more than I should…but-”
“So you do like her?” Shige asks simply. Ryo sighs and Shige snorts, “You think I don’t hear about how shy and cutesy you get around her? People think it’s sweet, when you two are together. They-” Shige’s voice catches and his next words are soft, almost resigned, “They think you two should go out. That you’d make a nice couple.”
Ryo’s head reels at the thought that people actually think that; he tries to say something, but nothing comes to mind with Shige looking at him so expectantly. Excruciatingly long minutes pass before Ryo blurts out the first thing that comes to his head.
“We’ve never defined this,” Ryo says desperately. “Besides, it’s not you-” he stops, eyes widening at the implications. He flinches and immediately wishes he could take it back, could wipe away the struck look on Shige’s face.
Shige regards Ryo in disbelief, eyes wide and lips pursed. “If you’re going the cliché route and going to continue with ‘It’s me,’ I reserve full rights to punch you in the face,” he says darkly.
There is a long pause that is filled with the tick tock of the mahogany clock on the dresser and the rustle of sheets as Ryo shifts anxiously. Shige is deadly still, face somber and deep in thought. Ryo forces himself to stay silent, as he has a feeling that if he said anything more it would probably make the situation worse.
What seems like hours pass before Shige quietly gets up and searches for his underwear and hastily discarded clothes from earlier that evening. Neither of them says a word, as Ryo points to Shige’s jeans hanging off a chair and a sock underneath the dresser, and Shige changes as quickly as he can.
When Shige finally closes the door with a soft click, Ryo gets the feeling that he isn’t coming back.
“Are you okay?” Erika asks as she hands Ryo a water bottle, “You’ve been out of it the past few days.”
Ryo’s heart races as he takes it from her, fingers grazing loosely against her palm, smooth skin leaving heat against his fingertips. “Thanks,” he mutters.
She sits next to him and together they sit at the filming site, on the dock by the ocean side. Legs kick back and forth as they try to stay warm; sea breeze sprinkles their faces and Erika wraps her jacket tightly around her frame. Behind them, Nino talks to the director, his voice dulled by the crash of waves against the wooden dock.
Erika sighs, “So?” She pokes Ryo’s shoulder, “What’s going on?”
Ryo pulls his legs up and tucks his chin neatly on his knees. Knobby bones dig into his throat and it hurts a little. “If I told you ‘nothing,’ would you believe me?”
She pauses before laughing clear and high-pitched. “Ah,” she says knowingly. She flashes him a lopsided smirk, “Girl problems, right?”
Ryo freezes but he forces himself to laugh. “Yeah,” he sighs, “something like that.”
“I knew it,” she nods thoughtfully. After a pause, she pats Ryo’s shoulder. “That sucks,” she adds helpfully.
Ryo hums in agreement and gulps down ice-cold water. Sea-salt air whips through their hair and Ryo decides to be bold.
“Will you go to dinner with me?” he blurts out.
The response is immediate. Erika’s eyes slant downwards and she swallows, fidgets with her sleeves and doesn’t look him in the eye. “Just the two of us?” she asks hesitantly.
Ryo doesn’t answer, and the two of them sit awkwardly with the gulls cawing and wind rushing between them. Around them people move about and laugh and chatter, but in that space they sit and they sit and the salt air is suffocating, compressing against his lungs. It hurts.
He stands up first, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. Opens his mouth, closes it. Eventually, it takes the director’s orders before they both move, up and away from each other.
They don’t look at each other the rest of the night.
When Yamapi parks, his eyes fasten on the curl of new leather sleek on the dashboard and his fingers glide aimlessly over his steering wheel.
“What’s going on with Shige?” he asks, and Ryo’s throat runs dry. He doesn’t answer for a long time, doesn’t quite know what to say, but Yamapi is determined. He shifts to face Ryo in the passenger’s seat and tries again. “Tell me,” he demands.
“What do you think is going on?” Ryo twists his hands and keeps his eyes trained on the clutch between them.
Yamapi’s eyes harden, “I don’t know,” he says simply. “I don’t know because you haven’t said anything and I haven’t asked. But do you really think I haven’t noticed the tension between you and Shige? What the hell is up with you two?”
Ryo swallows. He idly wonders if Yamapi thinks they are together. “We had a fight,” he mumbles.
When Ryo doesn’t clarify, Yamapi’s eyes narrow and he sighs. “Well, whatever it is you’re fighting about, get over it. I mean, Jesus, Ryo. When you look at Shige, it makes me nervous. Like something’s going to explode,” he admits with a concerned glance.
Ryo doesn’t know if he can say that the only reason he looks at Shige is because Shige refuses to look at him. He nods, “I’ll do my best.”
Yamapi takes a deep breath, fingers loosening on the steering wheel, “Good.” He pauses as his eyes soften, “And how are things going with Erika-chan?”
Ryo’s sardonic laugh echoes in the hollow shell of the car.
“I really wasn’t thinking about her that night,” Ryo says bluntly, the moment Shige opens his apartment door.
He wasn’t planning on coming over, but there he is on a late Thursday night. Ryo doesn’t know why he’s there, doesn’t know if he really wants to see him, but weeks after no contact with Shige emboldens him, along with some liquid courage, admittedly, from earlier that night.
Shige leans rumpled and confused on the doorframe, in faded grey sweatpants and rubbing sleep angrily from his eyes, “Really, Ryo. You really want to do this now?”
“I think we should talk,” Ryo says simply. Ryo keeps his gaze firm on Shige’s bewildered face, and Shige’s face eventually falls.
He steps back and lets Ryo in. “Why do I always listen to you?” he muses tiredly, mussing messy bed head with his fingers and glancing at the clock with a curse under his breath.
Ryo doesn’t waste time, maybe because he feels like he can’t, not anymore. The moment he sits down on Shige’s leather loveseat, Shige stiffens as Ryo speaks. “I don’t want to give this up,” he says.
“You like Toda Erika,” Shige says in response.
Ryo leans forward, “Maybe I do. Probably. That isn’t the point.” He fiddles with his jacket hem and tries to say something that won’t make Shige throw him out of the room. In the end, he settles for honesty. “Okay, so I think I do. I like her.” He swallows, “Doesn’t everyone have crushes?”
Shige doesn’t look very impressed, “Of course we all do. But you and I both know this is more than a simple crush.” He pauses and breaks eye contact, gaze fastened on Ryo’s t-shirt collar.
“So what now?” he finally asks, words soft and under his breath.
They sit like that for awkward minutes, in the living room on opposite-facing seats; a faucet drips in slow rhythm through the cracked open bathroom door and old Christmas lights flicker haphazardly along the ceiling’s edge. On the wall behind Shige, a clock ticks the time away as they sit and say nothing.
Ironically, the silence ends up saying multitudes.
Shige cracks first, he usually does and today is no exception; he cradles his head in his hands and his voice is incredulous, strangled.
“You are so selfish,” he marvels, “So selfish.” Ryo doesn’t refute the claim and Shige scoffs, “You want to like her from afar, but you also want me here. How much worse can you get?” He takes a deep breath before flashing Ryo desperate eyes.
Ryo gives up trying to be diplomatic. “Sometimes…you make me forget that I like her,” he admits.
Shige stares. “You shouldn’t have to forget that you like someone. Besides, liking Toda Erika is so much more normal than liking-” Shige pauses before he groans. He stands up and paces awkward steps. He starts, he stops; hands tremble as he paces his way up and down the length of the sofa. Finally, he places fretful hands on the sofa’s backseat edge and he squeezes, muscles straining in his forearms.
“I want to be selfish too,” Shige admits shakily. The meaning in his words is implicit but his next ones ring even louder in the quiet room, “Please leave.”
Shige walks slow steps into his room and the click of locks resound in Ryo’s ears minutes after.
Ryo leaves two hours and thirty three minutes later.
The next day, Ryo knocks on Erika’s dressing room and barely waits for the “Come in” before he enters.
Erika’s eyes widen at the sight of him, and Ryo can understand why. Even he can tell that he looks like an absolute wreck. Ryo had gotten out of bed that morning after two hours of fitful sleep, and during those two painful hours, dreams of Shige had interrupted dreams of Erika, or was it the other way around? Either way, Ryo hates his brain for not even giving him an hour’s respite.
Ryo plops down in Erika’s dressing room and Erika frets about him, clucks at him for his baggy-eyed appearance and wooden face, brushes his bangs with slender fingers and presses the back of her cool hand on his forehead.
“I think I like you,” he confesses curtly. Erika quickly pauses before roughly pulling her hand away from Ryo’s face.
“Oh,” she says. Her voice is unsurprised, and neither is Ryo.
Ryo waits.
After all this, after all that has happened the past few weeks, he wants an answer. A definite one. Though in the back of head, he’s pretty sure he’s known the answer all along.
Erika looks away awkwardly and wrings her porcelain hands. “Nishikido-kun,” she says softly, “I don’t. I don’t-“
Or maybe he doesn’t want to hear the rest. Ryo has never been strong with rejection. “Right,” Ryo says loudly. It isn’t as if he was expecting anything else. “I know.”
Erika’s expression is alarmed and her face an embarrassed pink; she fidgets as she stutters, “It’s-It’s not you, really. It’s me.”
Ryo pauses at the familiar phrase, laughs ugly sounds that ring harshly throughout the dressing room. “Yeah, I know,” he repeats, and he really does. He stands up to excuse himself and Erika’s large, concerned eyes bear deep into his. He attempts to smile but nothing comes to him. He coughs.
“I’ll see you around,” he finally manages, before exiting the room and closing the door firmly behind him.
His heart beats and eyes flutter shut as he leans his head against his dressing room door after filming. He takes a couple deep breaths, flexes his fingers, and swallows before pulling himself away and back to his life. As he walks through mazes of halls and stairs, weaves himself between people and mumbles greetings to coworkers, he thinks.
Ryo thinks about the first time he saw Erika, the first time she smiled at him and he knew that this girl was it. He thinks about Shige’s anger and Erika’s crystal clear laugh. He thinks about taking Shige out for midnight rides and talking with Erika on the deck by the sea. He thinks about a lot of things, but mostly he doesn’t know what to think.
Idly, as he arrives at the parking garage and hops into his car, he wonders how long it will take for him to get over him. Her.
He thinks the answer is probably forever.
After all, falling out of love has never been that easy.
AN: ::offers cookies to whoever managed to get to the end::
Pairing: Ryo/Toda Erika, Ryo/Shige
Rating: R
Word Count: 5800+
Notes: For silver_rose88 for je_whiteday. Originally posted here.
Summary: Ryo thinks there should be a limit as to how far one can fall.
Of Pretty Girls and Falling
Ryo meets her the first day of rehearsal.
She sits demurely in a rickety plastic chair, one that creaks whenever she shifts. Her bangs are swept loosely back, hair silk and a spill of waves. When she catches Ryo’s eye, she smiles.
“Nishikido-kun,” she says, “Let’s work well together.” The bow of her head is a smooth tilt, one that causes hair to tumble forward and bares a flash of pale skin on the back of her neck.
He tries to think of words to say in face of such a pretty girl. Thinks there should be a hello or an I’ll do my best or something, anything to fill the silence between them. But nothing comes to him and all thought processes falter. Instead, Ryo swallows and slowly nods in response. His smile is awkward, bow hurried and crooked.
He thinks this loss of words around the girl with simply elegant looks, brilliant smile and graceful poise will continue to cripple him every time he’s around her. The thought worries him a little.
Only a little though, because he is more preoccupied with the way she quickly says hello to Ninomiya and he warmly greets her back, with a wide grin and charming laugh. A vague sort of jealousy makes him turn away to hide the flush of his heated cheeks.
Filming starts and Ryo nearly falters with his lines because whenever he looks at her something in him clenches tight. She is beautiful in a way that unnerves him more than it should, in a way that bewilders him and makes his throat itch and skin burn. A mere girl has never confused him more and it doesn’t make any sense.
During a five minute break, she grabs a bottle of water and glances at Ryo, flashes him a lopsided grin. “So, have you ever worked with Ninomiya-kun before?”
His throat closes. He stutters. “No. Well, at countdown. But not really. Not like this,” he manages.
An awkward pause.
She tries again. “So, what do you think of the script?” she asks. Her smile this time is hesitant, unsure of how to approach Ryo’s inability to make simple conversation.
Ryo coughs, and has trouble breathing for a moment. His eyes settle on the hem of her cotton alabaster sleeve. “It’s good,” he mutters.
He doesn’t elaborate and after a moment, she raises an elegant brow. “I see,” she says slowly. The director calls her at that moment and her eyes reflect relief. “I’ll talk to you later,” she sighs softly, before walking to the director’s side. Ryo breathes and pinches the skin on the back of his hand. It hurts.
Ryo wonders if this is when he falls in love with Toda Erika, when she looks at him with her large doe eyes and almost buckteeth and says hello for the very first time.
But he doubts it, because falling in love has never been that easy.
He calls Shige days after meeting her, after they finish filming.
As far as filming days go, this one wasn’t his best. Ryo can’t help but be perpetually distracted by the way Erika’s snow white dress cascades carelessly around her thighs. He glimpses peeks of goose-pimpled flesh as she lies on the blanket outside and rubs the inside of her thighs with pretty soft hands to be as warm as possible. Beside her, Nino whines as Erika grabs his cell phone, giggling loudly as she goes through the contacts.
Ryo leaves the filming site hurriedly, images of Erika that make him quiver burned into his retinas. He calls Shige and leaves a curt message as he bounds down a flight of stairs to exit the studio.
Shige arrives at Ryo’s apartment three hours later.
Ryo supposes that being this distracted by a girl he still hasn’t really talked to is sort of weird. After all, he doesn’t think many of his friends go about pursuing their crushes by refusing to talk to them.
Yamapi is the first to notice, the first to call Ryo out on his minor obsession.
He does so on a Thursday evening when all Ryo, Jin, and Yamapi plan on doing is watching bad action movies and getting completely wasted. Jin guffaws and Yamapi stifles his giggles poorly; Ryo is mortified when they laughingly claim that every time Erika is mentioned in casual conversation, Ryo gets an odd look on his face and a blush dots the very tip of his ears.
“I would like her too,” Jin says wisely, nodding as he downs his third shot of the night. “She’s hot stuff. Could use more booty, but you know. Still hot.”
Yamapi snorts, “You think? She’s got no body. I like my women with breasts, thank you very much.”
“You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?” Ryo groans as he punches them both meekly and buries his face in his jacket.
Yamapi and Jin share a mutually sadistic grin and Jin’s gleeful tone of voice makes Ryo shudder.
“What do you think?” he asks.
In the next months, Jin talks about Erika almost every chance he gets. He is childlike in his teasing; he likes seeing Ryo squirm at the thought of Erika, finds it hilarious that Ryo acts like a teenager when it comes to this crush.
Yamapi doesn’t mention her as much, thinks it must be annoying for Ryo (he knows what it’s like to have Jin as a best friend, knows that Jin likes to push limits and then some), but that doesn’t stop him from jabbing Ryo about it every now and then, especially when he wants something from him.
Ryo remembers the last time he had had a stupid celebrity crush, the infamous one with Leah Dizon. He remembers the teasing that would last for days, the dirty quips about her rack, the friendly jeers at him for jacking off to her magazine photos late at night and dreaming of sleeping between her perfect breasts.
But there is something about Toda Erika that makes him infinitely curious. It isn’t just about thinking of her overly big eyes, square jutting jaw and pale fluttery hands. It is about something more, about her toothy grin and crystal-like laugh, her sarcasm on set and her ability to set a light mood in any room. It is about wanting to ask Erika how her day was, what she likes to do on her days off, whether she has time for coffee after filming.
He wants to, but the real matter is that he can’t. Can’t stop the explosion of frantic heartbeats that rip into his chest the moment she walks in and glances at him, petite body dwarfed by the doorframe. Can’t speak in full sentences around her without stuttering, can’t quite summon the courage to say more than simple greetings.
He just can’t around her. And that scares the shit out of him.
It’s been weeks since the first day they met, since the first day they had to work together, and Ryo still can’t talk to Erika in a way that isn’t totally embarrassing. When Erika looks at him, his breathing halts. When she smiles, his stomach curls.
And he knows that Erika knows. Her glances at him are aware, yet at the same time a little confused, and even then she still tries to say hello and talk to him. It’s endearing actually, Erika trying repeatedly to pry Ryo open, but it isn’t Erika’s fault that his throat closes up and his brain shuts off and all he can do in those moments is notice the perfume that lingers on her skin and wafts through the air between them.
However, when she mentions on air that Ryo refuses to talk to her, it devastates him. He is a wreck the rest of the interview.
Erika is charming and a bundle of energy on set, smiling gracefully and sitting demurely. Next to her, Ryo blurts out stupid responses and can barely look her in the eye. He tells her not to look at him and he can’t stem the flow of profuse apologizes with each question asked. His answers are short and awkward and Ryo hasn’t felt this useless in a long time.
When the filming for that promotional spot is done, Ryo races out of the studio and leans his head against a cool wall surface. He breathes through his nose, presses flushed cheek against lime stucco, and then he hears melodic laughter right by the curve of his ear.
“You are so shy,” Erika marvels, before poking his collarbone lightly with a manicured nail. Her next words are light but her eyes almost apprehensive, “Really, I don’t know why you don’t talk to me.” She swallows, “I’m not going to bite, honest.”
Ryo nods dumbly. “I’m sorry,” he manages, and then cringes at the overused apology. Erika laughs again awkwardly before flashing him a quick lopsided smile and ambling to her dressing room.
Throughout the rest of the day, Ryo finds himself on edge. Every moment he is around Erika is heightened like never before, and put simply, it frustrates him. Later in the day, Ryo somehow gathers the nerve to make small talk with Erika, and though his effort is inane and his questions lame, Erika’s eyes light up in surprise and she answers with delighted honesty.
Despite this reassurance, Ryo’s stomach still twists and his breaths grow short and he can’t calm the thud thud thud of his racing heart.
When filming for the day is done he rushes out, much like he always does, and texts Shige as he fumbles with his car keys.
“My place. Whenever you want.”
Shige arrives thirty minutes later and all it takes is for the door to slam shut before Ryo is yanking Shige towards him.
They’ve never really talked about what they do together, he and Shige, and if Ryo were honest, he doesn’t quite know himself. He knows that there is this thing between them, something, but they’ve never bothered (or never known how) to define it.
Shige keeps up with Ryo, gives as good as he takes, and Ryo doesn’t know when it starts, only how. Knows that they were at Ryo’s place and there was an argument over something stupid, about Shige’s tea or the scripts scattered across the living room coffee table. He doesn’t remember what they fought about but that they fought, and then there was yelling and getting so close that Ryo could see individual lashes and a pimple by Shige’s left ear. That is when Shige first grabbed Ryo by the collar and fit their lips together almost painfully, and Ryo could only growl as he stuffed his hand past the thick band of Shige’s jeans.
When Ryo wakes up the first time he finds Shige’s arm draped loosely over his pectoral, eyes lazily trained on the birthmark just below Ryo’s right hip. Ryo swats it away with a nervous glance as he waits, unsure of what to say.
Shige looks at Ryo for a long while before he smiles, which is all Ryo needs for the leaden weight of Shige’s arm to suddenly feel as light as foam. Shige moves first, pulling on boxers and looking for tossed socks, while Ryo ambles into the kitchen and puts some coffee beans into the machine.
They walk into their photo shoot that day with subtle glances and awkward touches, but while Ryo wonders if this would be a onetime thing, Shige, apparently, has other plans. This onetime thing they do turns into a two time thing a week later, into a three time thing four days after that, and eventually it comes to a point where Ryo stops counting.
Instead, he focuses on Shige.
Ryo learns that Shige gets really horny and needy right before his exams and he learns even faster that Shige is willing to do anything, everything, when he’s in that kind of state. Ryo finds that Shige whines when he doesn’t get his way and is never embarrassed to tell Ryo exactly what he wants and how. Ryo revels in the fact that Shige’s sharp body angles and juts into all the wrong places, but somehow it still feels so good, still fits so right with Ryo’s own.
What it really boils down to is the fact that Ryo has grown used to waking up in the morning to this body that is languid and awkward-fitting and perfect. Shige isn’t going to bitch at him for scratching his balls, he isn’t going to care that Ryo sometimes just wants to get laid and get off. He likes not worrying about when to call or how, and he especially likes laughing at Shige when he blindly fumbles with clothes in the dark of his room and bangs into the foot of Ryo’s bed every night.
The morning after this time is like any other. Shige lays languorously, limbs splayed, sleepy energy seeping into the sable pillowcase and sheets. The buzz from the night before is still there, faint but heady, and Ryo takes it in leisurely. His toes curl and his chest stretches, and while caressing Shige’s shoulder he crawls out of bed and into the bathroom.
It doesn’t take long before Shige stumbles into the kitchen with a tired groan. His torso is bare, jeans loose and riding on the jut of his hips. Shige grimaces as he yawns and Ryo smiles at the sight.
“How’s Ryusei no Kizuna?” Shige asks as he grabs a striped mug from the dish rack. He sits down as he always does, on the chair closest to the wall, the one with the chip on the bottom edge. Shige stretches, nibbles on some toast, and Ryo grabs the mug and fills it with Columbian brew.
Ryo thinks about the multitude of answers he could give Shige, from Fine to Toda Erika is breathtakingly gorgeous to I can’t stop thinking about her.
He settles for the obvious: “Nino’s a douchebag.”
Shige looks at him oddly, chuckling, “That’s not what I asked.”
Ryo pauses before shrugging calmly, handing Shige the sugar bowl and creamer.
On one day, Ryo sits in a corner poring over the script as she dances in a periwinkle dress to music that plays through her headphones. And he would be lying if he said he was entirely focused on his script, because Erika’s legs are long and smooth and her smile laced with happiness.
A couple of minutes later, Ryo feels Erika pull up a chair beside him and he forces himself to focus on the paper before him.
When Erika lets out a low hum, he looks up and nearly jolts back. Her gaze is tight on Ryo’s face, and just when Ryo is about to back away, Erika giggles. “I really like those glasses,” she says warmly. “They make you look very good.”
Ryo’s hand reaches instinctively towards the lenses and he flushes. Jin had given him the pair a while ago as a birthday present, and he had always liked wearing them (not to mention his eyesight wasn’t as good as before, but he doesn’t like admitting that).
“Like I wasn’t good looking before?” he mumbles defensively, and then his eyes widen as he realizes how that sounds.
But Erika laughs, “Of course you were. Everyone knows that.”
Ryo buries his head in his arms, glasses nudging perceptibly into the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he groans.
She slowly stops giggling and splays out on the table beside him, arms cradling her head and hair cascading over her face. Ryo has the distinct urge to brush the hair away but manages to stop himself, fists clenching tight in restraint.
A calm washes over them and Erika sighs.
“Star-crossed lovers,” Erika says softly. Ryo flashes her a confused look and she flushes, pressing her cheek deep into the skin of her arm. “I mean,” she mumbles, “I’ve been thinking about star-crossed lovers.”
She pauses before continuing, “I know Shizuna and Togami are, but, what does that mean? Isn’t being star-crossed wanting to be with someone but not being able to? Does it always have to be a Romeo and Juliet situation?”
She twists loose strands of her hair and gathers her thoughts. “Whether the person is circumstantially out of reach or plain just out of your league or even doesn’t feel the same. In a way, doesn’t that make the relationship star-crossed? Like you’re there but the other person isn’t, can’t be, never will be,” she pauses, scrunches her nose. “Does that make sense?”
Before Ryo can respond she lets out a frustrated breath, “Never mind, I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“No,” Ryo says. “I get it.” You and I are star-crossed lovers. “It makes sense.”
Erika still looks embarrassed. “I’m so sorry,” she mutters, “I tend to ramble.”
“Rambling is good for the soul,” Ryo says wisely.
She laughs, “Maybe. Thanks for listening anyway.”
At that moment, the director calls Erika’s name. With a quick flash of a smile she bounds to the director’s side, leaving Ryo sitting silent and stunned, like something monumental has just occurred.
The next time he sees her he decides to call her Erika-chan, despite the nervousness that settles in the pit of his lungs like lead. She doesn’t do anything but raise a brow in reaction, but Ryo feels like he’s taken another step forward in their relationship anyway. It’s an amazing feeling, one that amplifies the thumping in his chest and makes his mouth split almost supernaturally into a grin.
Later that night, Jin calls Ryo to hang out at his place and Ryo thinks about the day’s events. He smiles, “Thanks for the glasses.”
There is a crackly pause before Jin laughs, “What? That was ages ago, are you still on that? I can’t help having excellent taste.”
Ryo shakes his head laughingly, even though he knows Jin can’t see it through the phone, “I guess you’re useful after all,” Ryo muses, and laughs even harder at Jin’s indignant squeal.
He uses the name from that day forward.
Finally NEWS has a thirty minute break in between their concert-planning meetings and when Shige motions to Ryo to follow him, he does. Shige leads them outside and from there, their movements are habitual. Ryo pops open a cigarette box and Shige snags one as he hands Ryo his lighter. For a while they smoke silently and watch the way their puffs linger heavy and toxic in the air.
Ryo is about to ask Shige how his day had been when Shige glances at Ryo as he taps his cigarette against the rail; ashes crumble to the floor. He looks at Ryo. “You don’t talk much about Toda-san.”
There is a silence as Ryo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what Shige is really trying to say. Shige smiles softly, “When you talk about Ryusei no Kizuna, it’s always about how Ninomiya-kun is a pain in the ass.”
At that, Ryo huffs. “That’s because he is,” he scoffs firmly.
Shige laughs, but the sounds seem strained, confused even. “Sometimes I think you like her.” Shige clears his throat. He glances at Ryo but Ryo doesn’t look back. Instead his fingers tighten around his cigarette and cigarette smoke wisps grey in the air and he has nothing to say in response.
Shige holds Ryo’s chin and gently lifts it up. A few seconds pass and then Shige’s smile cracks. He swallows as he leans in to Ryo’s mouth, breath hot and sulphuric down his throat. Ryo nearly coughs but he angles his lips roughly against Shige’s and breathes in the acid smoke that saturates their mouths.
Ryo’s birthday comes on a day when he isn’t filming with Erika. Which is a good thing, he supposes, because the last thing Ryo wants to do is embarrass himself on his birthday.
Still, it’s kind of lonely during filming, and he spends most of it eating frosted cake he doesn’t want and flipping idly through his cell phone inbox. There are messages from band members (Shige’s text is brief but congratulatory nonetheless), from old friends, from dear family, but no matter how long Ryo waits, nothing appears from the one cast member he thinks about most.
In the end, Ryo resigns himself to an Erika-less birthday and when Yamapi and Jin show up on his doorstep to take him out, Ryo decides not to think about her. Or, at least he tries.
It is at the club to which Yamapi and Jin drag him where he gets the one message he’s been waiting for all day.
“Happy birthday, Nishikido-kun,” the text reads. “I hope you have a great night!” There is a heart attached to the message that blinks and the elation that spreads with each blink is almost alarming.
He is reminded of his surroundings when Jin stumbles over with a drunken cheer and slaps Ryo on the back. “What is it?” he yells over the roar of the thumping bass that pounds throughout the dance floor and reverberates through their bodies.
“Everything.” Ryo’s grin sears his face as he sidles up to a girl writhing next to him and dances close against her curves, imagining for a moment that it was Erika’s body to which he was pressed.
Later when he grabs some water and takes a breather, he saves the message.
“Who are you thinking about?” Shige breathes while they are pressed against each other and he is still lying halfway on top of Ryo, buried deep inside Ryo’s body.
“Fuck, seriously man?” The immediate panic that seeps into his hazed mind overtakes his senses. Ryo thinks he knows what Shige is really asking, and he can already feel himself start to grow soft; he groans unintelligible sounds. Shige shifts and Ryo grits his teeth, “Get out of me, you fucker.”
Shige complies and Ryo kneels on cotton sheets. “Who do you think about when we fuck?” Shige lays flat on his back with arms loosely crossed. He curls his toes and scratches his right thigh, struggling to control his short breath.
Eventually he calms down and his eyelids flutter; his next words are cautious but resolved, determined. “Are you thinking about Toda-san?”
Ryo curses under his breath. But then he looks at Shige and he swallows at the insecurity in Shige’s shining eyes. He takes a deep breath and answers honestly; cotton ruffles underneath him as he awkwardly shifts his legs. “I’m not thinking about Erika-chan,” he says.
Shige scoffs, “Then what are you thinking about?” He buries his face in a pillow and Ryo gives up on sitting, lying next to Shige’s rigid figure with care. Shige’s voice is soft, painfully so, and Ryo can barely catch his words. “You don’t feel one hundred percent with me, not anymore.”
“I don’t,” Ryo exhales, “I don’t think about her when we.” He feels a weight like bricks constrict his throat, but one look at Shige’s face and he knows he has to tell the truth. “I think about her a lot,” Ryo says carefully, “I’m not going to deny that I think about her more than I should…but-”
“So you do like her?” Shige asks simply. Ryo sighs and Shige snorts, “You think I don’t hear about how shy and cutesy you get around her? People think it’s sweet, when you two are together. They-” Shige’s voice catches and his next words are soft, almost resigned, “They think you two should go out. That you’d make a nice couple.”
Ryo’s head reels at the thought that people actually think that; he tries to say something, but nothing comes to mind with Shige looking at him so expectantly. Excruciatingly long minutes pass before Ryo blurts out the first thing that comes to his head.
“We’ve never defined this,” Ryo says desperately. “Besides, it’s not you-” he stops, eyes widening at the implications. He flinches and immediately wishes he could take it back, could wipe away the struck look on Shige’s face.
Shige regards Ryo in disbelief, eyes wide and lips pursed. “If you’re going the cliché route and going to continue with ‘It’s me,’ I reserve full rights to punch you in the face,” he says darkly.
There is a long pause that is filled with the tick tock of the mahogany clock on the dresser and the rustle of sheets as Ryo shifts anxiously. Shige is deadly still, face somber and deep in thought. Ryo forces himself to stay silent, as he has a feeling that if he said anything more it would probably make the situation worse.
What seems like hours pass before Shige quietly gets up and searches for his underwear and hastily discarded clothes from earlier that evening. Neither of them says a word, as Ryo points to Shige’s jeans hanging off a chair and a sock underneath the dresser, and Shige changes as quickly as he can.
When Shige finally closes the door with a soft click, Ryo gets the feeling that he isn’t coming back.
“Are you okay?” Erika asks as she hands Ryo a water bottle, “You’ve been out of it the past few days.”
Ryo’s heart races as he takes it from her, fingers grazing loosely against her palm, smooth skin leaving heat against his fingertips. “Thanks,” he mutters.
She sits next to him and together they sit at the filming site, on the dock by the ocean side. Legs kick back and forth as they try to stay warm; sea breeze sprinkles their faces and Erika wraps her jacket tightly around her frame. Behind them, Nino talks to the director, his voice dulled by the crash of waves against the wooden dock.
Erika sighs, “So?” She pokes Ryo’s shoulder, “What’s going on?”
Ryo pulls his legs up and tucks his chin neatly on his knees. Knobby bones dig into his throat and it hurts a little. “If I told you ‘nothing,’ would you believe me?”
She pauses before laughing clear and high-pitched. “Ah,” she says knowingly. She flashes him a lopsided smirk, “Girl problems, right?”
Ryo freezes but he forces himself to laugh. “Yeah,” he sighs, “something like that.”
“I knew it,” she nods thoughtfully. After a pause, she pats Ryo’s shoulder. “That sucks,” she adds helpfully.
Ryo hums in agreement and gulps down ice-cold water. Sea-salt air whips through their hair and Ryo decides to be bold.
“Will you go to dinner with me?” he blurts out.
The response is immediate. Erika’s eyes slant downwards and she swallows, fidgets with her sleeves and doesn’t look him in the eye. “Just the two of us?” she asks hesitantly.
Ryo doesn’t answer, and the two of them sit awkwardly with the gulls cawing and wind rushing between them. Around them people move about and laugh and chatter, but in that space they sit and they sit and the salt air is suffocating, compressing against his lungs. It hurts.
He stands up first, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. Opens his mouth, closes it. Eventually, it takes the director’s orders before they both move, up and away from each other.
They don’t look at each other the rest of the night.
When Yamapi parks, his eyes fasten on the curl of new leather sleek on the dashboard and his fingers glide aimlessly over his steering wheel.
“What’s going on with Shige?” he asks, and Ryo’s throat runs dry. He doesn’t answer for a long time, doesn’t quite know what to say, but Yamapi is determined. He shifts to face Ryo in the passenger’s seat and tries again. “Tell me,” he demands.
“What do you think is going on?” Ryo twists his hands and keeps his eyes trained on the clutch between them.
Yamapi’s eyes harden, “I don’t know,” he says simply. “I don’t know because you haven’t said anything and I haven’t asked. But do you really think I haven’t noticed the tension between you and Shige? What the hell is up with you two?”
Ryo swallows. He idly wonders if Yamapi thinks they are together. “We had a fight,” he mumbles.
When Ryo doesn’t clarify, Yamapi’s eyes narrow and he sighs. “Well, whatever it is you’re fighting about, get over it. I mean, Jesus, Ryo. When you look at Shige, it makes me nervous. Like something’s going to explode,” he admits with a concerned glance.
Ryo doesn’t know if he can say that the only reason he looks at Shige is because Shige refuses to look at him. He nods, “I’ll do my best.”
Yamapi takes a deep breath, fingers loosening on the steering wheel, “Good.” He pauses as his eyes soften, “And how are things going with Erika-chan?”
Ryo’s sardonic laugh echoes in the hollow shell of the car.
“I really wasn’t thinking about her that night,” Ryo says bluntly, the moment Shige opens his apartment door.
He wasn’t planning on coming over, but there he is on a late Thursday night. Ryo doesn’t know why he’s there, doesn’t know if he really wants to see him, but weeks after no contact with Shige emboldens him, along with some liquid courage, admittedly, from earlier that night.
Shige leans rumpled and confused on the doorframe, in faded grey sweatpants and rubbing sleep angrily from his eyes, “Really, Ryo. You really want to do this now?”
“I think we should talk,” Ryo says simply. Ryo keeps his gaze firm on Shige’s bewildered face, and Shige’s face eventually falls.
He steps back and lets Ryo in. “Why do I always listen to you?” he muses tiredly, mussing messy bed head with his fingers and glancing at the clock with a curse under his breath.
Ryo doesn’t waste time, maybe because he feels like he can’t, not anymore. The moment he sits down on Shige’s leather loveseat, Shige stiffens as Ryo speaks. “I don’t want to give this up,” he says.
“You like Toda Erika,” Shige says in response.
Ryo leans forward, “Maybe I do. Probably. That isn’t the point.” He fiddles with his jacket hem and tries to say something that won’t make Shige throw him out of the room. In the end, he settles for honesty. “Okay, so I think I do. I like her.” He swallows, “Doesn’t everyone have crushes?”
Shige doesn’t look very impressed, “Of course we all do. But you and I both know this is more than a simple crush.” He pauses and breaks eye contact, gaze fastened on Ryo’s t-shirt collar.
“So what now?” he finally asks, words soft and under his breath.
They sit like that for awkward minutes, in the living room on opposite-facing seats; a faucet drips in slow rhythm through the cracked open bathroom door and old Christmas lights flicker haphazardly along the ceiling’s edge. On the wall behind Shige, a clock ticks the time away as they sit and say nothing.
Ironically, the silence ends up saying multitudes.
Shige cracks first, he usually does and today is no exception; he cradles his head in his hands and his voice is incredulous, strangled.
“You are so selfish,” he marvels, “So selfish.” Ryo doesn’t refute the claim and Shige scoffs, “You want to like her from afar, but you also want me here. How much worse can you get?” He takes a deep breath before flashing Ryo desperate eyes.
Ryo gives up trying to be diplomatic. “Sometimes…you make me forget that I like her,” he admits.
Shige stares. “You shouldn’t have to forget that you like someone. Besides, liking Toda Erika is so much more normal than liking-” Shige pauses before he groans. He stands up and paces awkward steps. He starts, he stops; hands tremble as he paces his way up and down the length of the sofa. Finally, he places fretful hands on the sofa’s backseat edge and he squeezes, muscles straining in his forearms.
“I want to be selfish too,” Shige admits shakily. The meaning in his words is implicit but his next ones ring even louder in the quiet room, “Please leave.”
Shige walks slow steps into his room and the click of locks resound in Ryo’s ears minutes after.
Ryo leaves two hours and thirty three minutes later.
The next day, Ryo knocks on Erika’s dressing room and barely waits for the “Come in” before he enters.
Erika’s eyes widen at the sight of him, and Ryo can understand why. Even he can tell that he looks like an absolute wreck. Ryo had gotten out of bed that morning after two hours of fitful sleep, and during those two painful hours, dreams of Shige had interrupted dreams of Erika, or was it the other way around? Either way, Ryo hates his brain for not even giving him an hour’s respite.
Ryo plops down in Erika’s dressing room and Erika frets about him, clucks at him for his baggy-eyed appearance and wooden face, brushes his bangs with slender fingers and presses the back of her cool hand on his forehead.
“I think I like you,” he confesses curtly. Erika quickly pauses before roughly pulling her hand away from Ryo’s face.
“Oh,” she says. Her voice is unsurprised, and neither is Ryo.
Ryo waits.
After all this, after all that has happened the past few weeks, he wants an answer. A definite one. Though in the back of head, he’s pretty sure he’s known the answer all along.
Erika looks away awkwardly and wrings her porcelain hands. “Nishikido-kun,” she says softly, “I don’t. I don’t-“
Or maybe he doesn’t want to hear the rest. Ryo has never been strong with rejection. “Right,” Ryo says loudly. It isn’t as if he was expecting anything else. “I know.”
Erika’s expression is alarmed and her face an embarrassed pink; she fidgets as she stutters, “It’s-It’s not you, really. It’s me.”
Ryo pauses at the familiar phrase, laughs ugly sounds that ring harshly throughout the dressing room. “Yeah, I know,” he repeats, and he really does. He stands up to excuse himself and Erika’s large, concerned eyes bear deep into his. He attempts to smile but nothing comes to him. He coughs.
“I’ll see you around,” he finally manages, before exiting the room and closing the door firmly behind him.
His heart beats and eyes flutter shut as he leans his head against his dressing room door after filming. He takes a couple deep breaths, flexes his fingers, and swallows before pulling himself away and back to his life. As he walks through mazes of halls and stairs, weaves himself between people and mumbles greetings to coworkers, he thinks.
Ryo thinks about the first time he saw Erika, the first time she smiled at him and he knew that this girl was it. He thinks about Shige’s anger and Erika’s crystal clear laugh. He thinks about taking Shige out for midnight rides and talking with Erika on the deck by the sea. He thinks about a lot of things, but mostly he doesn’t know what to think.
Idly, as he arrives at the parking garage and hops into his car, he wonders how long it will take for him to get over him. Her.
He thinks the answer is probably forever.
After all, falling out of love has never been that easy.
AN: ::offers cookies to whoever managed to get to the end::