the light's too bright, or maybe it's just the way your smile makes my head spin.
HEY GUYS, THIS IS 4_03_am'S RYOPI FICLET. when everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, RHEYNE. *BEAMS* It's... kinda weird. And angsty. And... there are probably lots of mistakes because I'm tired and I CAN'T WRITE FIC IN PAST TENSE AND SECOND PERSON, CRIES. (DON'T ASK ME WHY I TRIED.) SO PLEASE POINT OUT ANY MISTAKES, THAT WOULD BE EXTREMELY HELPFUL. It's over 1k, which surprised me, because I was expecting it to be shorter. I was actually productive today, for once. No, wait, I TELL LIES, I DID PRETTY MUCH NOTHING BUT WATCH TILA TEQUILA ON YOUTUBE 'CAUSE I'M A FUCKING LOSER AND HAS NO LIFE. I am too lazy to post this ficlet to spirited_words. And maybe I'll post this to other comms when I feel less lethargic. And when I wake up tomorrow. 'CAUSE IT'S LIKE 1AM HERE.
Looking back, the way it started-you never really expected it to come to this.
You remember the way Pi tried too hard to smile at first, tries and tries and fails, because all he could think of is Toma and 4Tops and how he was leaving behind all his dreams (his heart), and you think you recall moments when you caught them looking at each other in a way that compelled you to turn away, because there was something too perfect and bright about their eyes, about the curve of their lips, that blinded you.
You were okay though, you were, even though he wasn’t, because you had Uchi, Uchi Hiroki, that boy who smiled at you in a way that could be compared to how Toma smiled at Pi. You were okay, and you reckoned you were pretty damn lucky because you heard the sempais say, sometimes, “Bad things happen a lot in this jimusho. Things don’t really go like you want them to. Dreams get broken, but that’s just the way it is.”
And you looked at Pi and you thought that the sempais are right. Bad things happen and dreams get broken. Pi didn’t really talk to anyone, but then nobody else did, either. He just talked to you, mostly, and although you thought he could be annoying and a bit too whiny sometimes, you didn’t blame him, because you saw that expression on his face when he thought no one was looking, and it was tired and hurt and lost. You let him annoy you, because of that.
So it started out with nine people, nine people who weren’t really sure of each other, nine people who were too young and too awkward and who couldn’t even remember each other’s names. You didn’t even quite realize that there was someone called Moriuchi Takahiro in your group until he quit. You didn’t know why he quit, no one told you and you didn’t ask (because asking questions wasn’t really something people did in this jimusho), but it reminded you of what your sempais said, “Things don’t really go like you want them to,” and you thought maybe that was what happened with Moriuchi.
And you were left with eight. But it didn’t matter, did it, because you all thought it was only going to be a temporary unit anyway. Except it never turned out like that. You kept going from there, the eight of you, and all of a sudden, you’d released five singles and an album. It was kind of funny how everyone knew each other’s names, kind of funny how Pi’s no longer that vulnerable 18-year-old boy who’d just left 4Tops. (Dreams get broken here, but that’s just the way it is, and people-they either move on or quit. Pi moved on, you suppose.) But Pi’s annoying still, annoying and loud and silly, a complete brat.
(Somewhere along the way he’d asked you, “We’d be good friends forever, ne?” He was beaming, the stupidest grin pasted on his face, and somehow that created an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach, and it unsettled you.
You thought you should have known better, but you were kind of stupid too, back then, and you kind of liked this kid, even though he was a brat. You were too young and fearless and you thought you could afford making promises. You didn’t know, didn’t know anything at all. You shook your head and muttered something about Pi being stupid, but when he offered you his pinky you didn’t turn him down, and it was a promise, a promise for real.)
And then, three days after you’ve released your fourth single, it was crash and burn. You never saw it coming. No one did. It was a horrible blur and you remember nothing of it. (Nothing but screaming at Hiroki, screaming at him because he’d done such a stupid thing, because you cared, because you didn’t know what would happen to him now, and Hiroki sobbing into your shoulder because he was scared, too.) And before you knew it, Kusano had fallen too, that boy who was even more of an annoying brat than Pi, and your whole group, your whole group, you and Pi and everyone else included-you’d all fallen, crash and burn and only dark ashes left.
For weeks and weeks and weeks after that, you didn’t know what you were doing. You went through every day with a black, bitter taste in your mouth that made you feel sick (maybe that was all the caffeine you were overdosing yourself, or maybe it was that alcohol that you know you shouldn’t be drinking every night). You didn’t know why it mattered to you. You still had Kanjani8, unlike the rest of NEWS. You had lots of things to keep you busy, and you loved being with Kanjani8 a lot. They made you do stupid stuff that you would never usually do, being the Sexy Osaka Man and all, and it was a good, refreshing feeling, doing stupid stuff and laughing at himself. (Maybe that was why he liked being with Jin and Pi too, even though he’d never admit it. -Pi, that was why it mattered to you, maybe, because you missed his pout and his laugh and the way he looked at you, smiled at you.)
You remembered what the sempais said again, and you wondered about all the things they must have gone through, too, because he now knew that everyone goes through these things here, bad things and broken dreams. It’s what happens in this goddamn jimusho, heartbreak every other day. You thought you could handle it, once, (because you were always so confident, so sure of yourself), but you found out-through lying on the couch every damn night in front of a blank TV screen and getting yourself thoroughly pissed-that you couldn’t, really, and you’d always just been telling lies to yourself. It was a terrible feeling, that feeling of sinking deeper and deeper, not being able to swim, not having anything to grab hold of, except, except-
You phoned Pi, one night, asked him if he wanted to hang out, because you were fucking tired of your life and you missed him, goddammit, you missed him. You went to a ramen store and you don’t even remember what the noodles tasted like, it was cheap and it was probably much better than the soggy instant ones you’d had at home every day for more than a month.
You do remember later on, pressing a hard, rough kiss to his lips in a back alleyway not far from the ramen store because you couldn’t stand the way he was laughing when he’d recounted one of his silly phone calls with Jin. His laughter was so clear and bright and warm and you were too cold, and you wanted that heat, wanted his lips, wanted him, and you didn’t know what you were doing but you kissed him, running fingers through his hair (you loved his black hair more than anything else, you loved it more than his brown or blond hair, it made him look too damn beautiful and it made you want him, a lot a lot a lot), and slipping a tongue into his mouth, and your hands were running down his back, and your kisses were fluttering on his jaw, his neck, and he was your lifeline, he was that log you were clinging onto in the middle of the goddamn huge ocean.
(Later on you had sex for the first time. It was a fumbling affair, in your apartment. He was horrified to see the state of your place, because you’d been neglecting any form of tidying and cleaning for ages now, and it was a complete and total mess and it probably stank, and thinking back you’re grateful that he didn’t turn and walk right back out of the door then. He stayed, and there was more kissing, tugging at clothes and skin sliding against skin, and there was a kind of urgency in everything you did. You were frantic, desperate, and you wanted to let him know that he mattered to you. You’d never been good at telling anyone that-you always end up calling them stupid and fat and ugly instead. But you thought Pi understood, that night, when you left red marks on his shoulders and hips and whispered kisses into the crook of his neck, breathed his name.
You thought he understood, and you were glad, because you wanted him to, because he really did matter.)
And you’re standing on the stage months later, and you’re with him, you’re with them, listening to the deafening screams of your fans together, and NEWS is back, and you find it funny how you’ve come so far. Dreams get broken here, but that’s just the way it is. People either move on or quit. You think you were close to quitting, back then, but you’re glad you didn’t. You’ve moved on now. You bow to your fans, holding hands with Pi, feeling the sweat in his palm mingle with the sweat in yours, and you smile, you think you’re still okay.
You’re still okay.
fin.
I'M PROBABLY WRITING CLARE'S NEXT. PROBABLY. AND YUXI GIVE ME THAT DAMN PROMPT.
Looking back, the way it started-you never really expected it to come to this.
You remember the way Pi tried too hard to smile at first, tries and tries and fails, because all he could think of is Toma and 4Tops and how he was leaving behind all his dreams (his heart), and you think you recall moments when you caught them looking at each other in a way that compelled you to turn away, because there was something too perfect and bright about their eyes, about the curve of their lips, that blinded you.
You were okay though, you were, even though he wasn’t, because you had Uchi, Uchi Hiroki, that boy who smiled at you in a way that could be compared to how Toma smiled at Pi. You were okay, and you reckoned you were pretty damn lucky because you heard the sempais say, sometimes, “Bad things happen a lot in this jimusho. Things don’t really go like you want them to. Dreams get broken, but that’s just the way it is.”
And you looked at Pi and you thought that the sempais are right. Bad things happen and dreams get broken. Pi didn’t really talk to anyone, but then nobody else did, either. He just talked to you, mostly, and although you thought he could be annoying and a bit too whiny sometimes, you didn’t blame him, because you saw that expression on his face when he thought no one was looking, and it was tired and hurt and lost. You let him annoy you, because of that.
So it started out with nine people, nine people who weren’t really sure of each other, nine people who were too young and too awkward and who couldn’t even remember each other’s names. You didn’t even quite realize that there was someone called Moriuchi Takahiro in your group until he quit. You didn’t know why he quit, no one told you and you didn’t ask (because asking questions wasn’t really something people did in this jimusho), but it reminded you of what your sempais said, “Things don’t really go like you want them to,” and you thought maybe that was what happened with Moriuchi.
And you were left with eight. But it didn’t matter, did it, because you all thought it was only going to be a temporary unit anyway. Except it never turned out like that. You kept going from there, the eight of you, and all of a sudden, you’d released five singles and an album. It was kind of funny how everyone knew each other’s names, kind of funny how Pi’s no longer that vulnerable 18-year-old boy who’d just left 4Tops. (Dreams get broken here, but that’s just the way it is, and people-they either move on or quit. Pi moved on, you suppose.) But Pi’s annoying still, annoying and loud and silly, a complete brat.
(Somewhere along the way he’d asked you, “We’d be good friends forever, ne?” He was beaming, the stupidest grin pasted on his face, and somehow that created an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach, and it unsettled you.
You thought you should have known better, but you were kind of stupid too, back then, and you kind of liked this kid, even though he was a brat. You were too young and fearless and you thought you could afford making promises. You didn’t know, didn’t know anything at all. You shook your head and muttered something about Pi being stupid, but when he offered you his pinky you didn’t turn him down, and it was a promise, a promise for real.)
And then, three days after you’ve released your fourth single, it was crash and burn. You never saw it coming. No one did. It was a horrible blur and you remember nothing of it. (Nothing but screaming at Hiroki, screaming at him because he’d done such a stupid thing, because you cared, because you didn’t know what would happen to him now, and Hiroki sobbing into your shoulder because he was scared, too.) And before you knew it, Kusano had fallen too, that boy who was even more of an annoying brat than Pi, and your whole group, your whole group, you and Pi and everyone else included-you’d all fallen, crash and burn and only dark ashes left.
For weeks and weeks and weeks after that, you didn’t know what you were doing. You went through every day with a black, bitter taste in your mouth that made you feel sick (maybe that was all the caffeine you were overdosing yourself, or maybe it was that alcohol that you know you shouldn’t be drinking every night). You didn’t know why it mattered to you. You still had Kanjani8, unlike the rest of NEWS. You had lots of things to keep you busy, and you loved being with Kanjani8 a lot. They made you do stupid stuff that you would never usually do, being the Sexy Osaka Man and all, and it was a good, refreshing feeling, doing stupid stuff and laughing at himself. (Maybe that was why he liked being with Jin and Pi too, even though he’d never admit it. -Pi, that was why it mattered to you, maybe, because you missed his pout and his laugh and the way he looked at you, smiled at you.)
You remembered what the sempais said again, and you wondered about all the things they must have gone through, too, because he now knew that everyone goes through these things here, bad things and broken dreams. It’s what happens in this goddamn jimusho, heartbreak every other day. You thought you could handle it, once, (because you were always so confident, so sure of yourself), but you found out-through lying on the couch every damn night in front of a blank TV screen and getting yourself thoroughly pissed-that you couldn’t, really, and you’d always just been telling lies to yourself. It was a terrible feeling, that feeling of sinking deeper and deeper, not being able to swim, not having anything to grab hold of, except, except-
You phoned Pi, one night, asked him if he wanted to hang out, because you were fucking tired of your life and you missed him, goddammit, you missed him. You went to a ramen store and you don’t even remember what the noodles tasted like, it was cheap and it was probably much better than the soggy instant ones you’d had at home every day for more than a month.
You do remember later on, pressing a hard, rough kiss to his lips in a back alleyway not far from the ramen store because you couldn’t stand the way he was laughing when he’d recounted one of his silly phone calls with Jin. His laughter was so clear and bright and warm and you were too cold, and you wanted that heat, wanted his lips, wanted him, and you didn’t know what you were doing but you kissed him, running fingers through his hair (you loved his black hair more than anything else, you loved it more than his brown or blond hair, it made him look too damn beautiful and it made you want him, a lot a lot a lot), and slipping a tongue into his mouth, and your hands were running down his back, and your kisses were fluttering on his jaw, his neck, and he was your lifeline, he was that log you were clinging onto in the middle of the goddamn huge ocean.
(Later on you had sex for the first time. It was a fumbling affair, in your apartment. He was horrified to see the state of your place, because you’d been neglecting any form of tidying and cleaning for ages now, and it was a complete and total mess and it probably stank, and thinking back you’re grateful that he didn’t turn and walk right back out of the door then. He stayed, and there was more kissing, tugging at clothes and skin sliding against skin, and there was a kind of urgency in everything you did. You were frantic, desperate, and you wanted to let him know that he mattered to you. You’d never been good at telling anyone that-you always end up calling them stupid and fat and ugly instead. But you thought Pi understood, that night, when you left red marks on his shoulders and hips and whispered kisses into the crook of his neck, breathed his name.
You thought he understood, and you were glad, because you wanted him to, because he really did matter.)
And you’re standing on the stage months later, and you’re with him, you’re with them, listening to the deafening screams of your fans together, and NEWS is back, and you find it funny how you’ve come so far. Dreams get broken here, but that’s just the way it is. People either move on or quit. You think you were close to quitting, back then, but you’re glad you didn’t. You’ve moved on now. You bow to your fans, holding hands with Pi, feeling the sweat in his palm mingle with the sweat in yours, and you smile, you think you’re still okay.
You’re still okay.
fin.
I'M PROBABLY WRITING CLARE'S NEXT. PROBABLY. AND YUXI GIVE ME THAT DAMN PROMPT.