Rebuilding Burnt Bridges (1/2)
Title: Rebuilding Burnt Bridges
Chapters: 1/2
Pairings: Andou Ryuu/Ueda Tatusya (Ueda/Ueda), Kame/Ueda (friendship)
Rating: NC 17+ (for strong adult themes. There is no explicit sex)
Genre: Romance, angst, hurt/comfort, (very) slight fluff, humiliation
Warnings: AU (sorta), verbal abuse, almost-rape, intentionally hurting people, sadism, cruelty (slight), emotional/psychological pain, dehumanisation, unsympathetic!Ryuu, mockery, Ueda in his copper hair, crying Ueda
Synopsis: It’s not very hard to recognise him, that person. Fuck the fact that his initially pale skin is now tanned a deliciously shade of caramel; that his hair is now styled in such a way that it exposes the single silver earring that dangles off his left lobe; that his dark, depthless eyes grow wide when they meet Ueda’s equally bulging ones.
The universe must really, really, really hate him.
A/N: I’m not playing nice with this fic. IF IT TRIGGERS ANYTHING. DO NOT READ. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Second part is under revision, so please be patient.
Boxing is his release.
Ueda isn’t surprised that he enjoys it. It’s fun, and besides, Ueda isn’t really that feminine, even though he wears frilly clothes, unlike Kame who is a complete girl to the point where he carriers a friggin’ hair curler in his man-bag, Ueda knows that this is just his image; a mask if you will. Without it, the skinny teen with long blonde hair and spiky jewellery that hang like uncomfortable weights of his thin neck is back, and Ueda can’t help but want to squirm out of his skin that chokes out whatever self respect there is left in him.
He dons an image dipped in sparkly body glitter, facial stickers and a fairy-smile, complete with a pretty molten copper bob-cut that bounces around his ears, but it isn’t like he wants to constantly be labelled as ‘the girl’ in the group. Regardless, Ueda likes his androgynous looks, in complete honesty. That’s because being the one with the princess smile is him and no one else.
Ueda likes to think of it as his signature, like Kame and his tendency to change his hairstyle every other week, Nakamaru being the aisubeki idiot of the group, Koki and his over-exaggerated facial expressions, and Taguchi with his bad puns. It made him feel different - special if you will. Then again, it is perhaps the fault of the entertainment industry with it’s tendency to make idols develop weird obsessions that gave Ueda this need for a fluffy bob-cut, he doesn’t know.
Atelophobia isn’t something uncommon in his line of work; especially when the levels of testosterone behind the walls of J&A are spiking to new heights with the sheer number of rebellious teens Johnny marches in. Kamenashi never fails to give him the feeling of being god’s lesser loved son (or in his case, Johnny’s) - despite the fact that Ueda knows the younger man isn’t doing it on purpose.
He’s learnt to live with it so far. And perhaps being silver and not gold does have certain perks. For one, his schedule isn’t as tight as Kame’s who is literally powered only with caffeine on certain days where he barely gets time to sit, let alone rest.
Just like today. Ueda is free after afternoon rehearsals on Tuesdays, so he arranges to have private boxing sessions at a gym close to the Jimusho. He’s humming their new single as he sides past the glass doors and into the main halls. There is a bounce in his step, and Ueda has his good mood to blame for it. He descends a flight of steps that carry him down to a stuffy room smelling of wood, leather, and of course, sweat. He’s surprised when he sees another person already there with his instructor.
Ueda catches himself staring at the stranger’s back, as he rains several sharp, precise punches at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling, his instructor watching on with an impressed expression. The stranger’s movements are fluid and smooth, looking much like a dance in Ueda’s eyes. Sweat slides down in rivulets from the base man’s head and soaks the sleeveless tank he wears, with spiky, unruly black hair adding to the bad-boy image.
When his instructor sees him watching - or more like staring - at the strange man, he calls Ueda over. Ueda blinks rapidly, and mentally slaps himself. He shakes his head and approaches the two people. The man has stopped punching the bag, and is now removing the pair of worn silver boxing gloves with his teeth, ripping the bands of velcro to free his wrists. Ueda swallows dryly.
The man tosses the gloves to one side, before snatching up a bottle of chilled water from the edge of a table and takes a swig, Adam’s apple bobbing as the liquid slides down his throat. He turns around to face Ueda as he caps the bottle, and almost at once, Ueda feels something lodge itself in his windpipe, nausea and shock curdling at the pit of his gut and rising like bubbling magma.
It’s not very hard to recognise him, that person. Fuck the fact that his initially pale skin is now tanned a deliciously shade of caramel; that his hair is now styled in such a way that it exposes the single silver earring that dangles off his left lobe; that his dark, depthless eyes grow wide when they meet Ueda’s equally bulging ones.
The universe must really, really, really hate him.
///
Retiring.
His instructor is retiring.
Ueda barely registers what his instructor says after this, because Ryuu is watching him - fuck that, the freak is practically eating him inside out with that stare. Ryuu looks different, Ueda thinks. In high school, he resembled a delinquent who had nothing better to do that beat people up for kicks, and now, he looks like- like-
[Ryuu’s dark gaze scans Ueda’s entire being, from head to toe, and a predatory smirk curls at his lips sends a jolt up and down Ueda’s spine.]
- like a narcissistic asshole, Ueda concludes, brows dipping low into a scowl. His eyes dart away from Ryuu's, and he wants to hit himself for doing so, especially when he hears that familiar snort of derision that makes his insides twist in anger.
They have to shake hands, because it’s a formality. Ueda suppresses the shiver that travels up his arm as Ryuu’s hand closes tightly around his own. Ryuu is still sporting that feral grin while ‘properly’ introducing himself to Ueda, who in turn, does the same, only in a tighter, more controlled tone. Ryuu is all relaxed and completely chilled out. He reassures the instructor that he’ll definitely take good care of Ueda, and that he is not to worry about anything at all.
Ueda chokes on his own saliva at the sickly sweet sincerity in Ryuu’s voice.
When his instructor leaves Ryuu the keys to the gym, Ueda feels like whatever shred of dignity he has left is in the hands of someone who would stop at nothing to rip it to pieces and grind each piece into the dirt.
His instructor thumps him on the back, telling him that he should not be worried, because Ryuu is apparently a hair’s breadth from going pro, and that if there is anyone who can help train Ueda, it’s Ryuu. Ueda can see his life flashing before his eyes when his instructor leaves the room, door swinging shut in slow motion behind him for the last time.
Ueda counts to twenty, before turning around to face a very smug-looking Ryuu.
“So,” Ryuu begins, that predatory gleam still evident in his eyes. “An idol, huh? Who would’ve even thought that scrawny, ugly, little Tat-chan would grow up to look so pretty?”
Ueda winces. Oh god he can literally feel the magma shifting beneath the surface already, and it is not surprising that he can barely see past the fury that clogs his vision. “Don’t you even dare,” he says tightly.
Ryuu raises a delicate brow, and steps in closer, filling Ueda’s personal space with mixed smells of sweat, spicy deodorant, sandalwood, and musk. Ueda blinks, but does not remove his glare - glaring has always been his forte after all.
“Dare what, Tat-chan?” Ryuu whispers. “Dare what exactly?”
Ueda steps away immediately, trying to look as intimidating as possible.
And then Ueda only has time to see Ryuu lift his wrist, slender fingers that are bruised and chaffed squeezing into a tight fist before it flies straight at his face. Ueda inhales sharply, and shuts his eyes tight, waiting for it. Waiting for the familiar pain that he though he had escaped from forever.
It doesn’t come. Ueda waits and waits and waitsandwaitsandwaits- But there is nothing.
He then feels a sharp flick to his forehead, and this makes his eyes fly open in surprise and annoyance, only to see Ryuu’s darker ones staring back at him curiously.
“Did you actually think I was going to hit you?” Ryuu asks, brows raised and voice laced in such derision that Ueda feels a nerve snap.
He can only blink, Ryuu’s form swimming before his shaky vision. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing stupid contacts, and his eyes feel like someone had just tipped a bottleful of sand into each. Ueda swallows, but he’s not JE’s Mr Stoic for nothing. Shrugging lightly, he meets Ryuu’s gaze challengingly. “Nothing stopped you before,” he spits, but frowns harder when there is no reaction whatsoever from his target.
Ryuu doesn’t say anything, he just watches Ueda contemplatively. “It’s been fucking years, Ueda,” Ryuu finally says, his tone ridiculing. “I don’t see the point anymore. Besides,” Ryuu shrugs and turns his back to Ueda, walking toward his duffle bag dumped next to the boxing ring and stuffing his water bottle into it. “I’m your trainer now, and I seriously don’t need the hassle that comes packaged with the joy of getting to punch a member of Japan’s No.1 boy band.”
Ueda’s ears are pounding with anger, and his fingers are curled into tight fists by his sides. Right now, the only thing he can think of is burying his fist into Ryuu’s stupid face.
Ryuu turns around to see Ueda’s lips pulled into a tight line, and his slender hands balled into shaking fists. He smirks, and Ueda’s vision nearly goes white with rage. He doesn’t move through. He’s an idol, for fuck’s sake. He has better control than this. Dealing with Andou fucking Ryuu is nothing. After all, he’s been able to survive all those years with the midget Nishikido flapping his stupid Kansai accent into his ear, so Ryuu should be no problem at all.
Should be.
Ryuu laughs openly at Ueda’s trembling frame. “You are still as bad as you were all those years ago, Tat-chan.” he chastises. “Still with that horrible temper of yours. You’re such a girl.”
And Ueda snaps.
One minute he’s standing at least 8 feet away from Ryuu, and the next he is right up to Ryuu’s face, fist aimed at that stupid smirk. Ueda’s ears are ringing, but he doesn’t feel his fist connect with flesh, no. Instead, the tables are turned almost instantaneously, when Ryuu does some weird blocking move and he effectively grapples Ueda’s fist, before twirling his body around, twisting his arm and holding it securely against his back.
Ueda hisses in pain, but Ryuu doesn’t loosen his hold. Ueda’s back is pressed up against Ryuu, and he can feel the shifting muscles beneath the thin tank top. Ryuu is strong. Stronger than he last remembered, but hey, it’s been close to 10 years, and people change.
Ryuu allows his chin to drop to the dip of Ueda’s shoulder, breath brushing the shell of his ear. “Too slow, Tat-chan,” he whispers, and twists Ueda’s arm harder, tearing a yelp from his clamped lips. Ueda’s back arches sharply against Ryuu’s body despite his current position, forcing his head to push into Ryuu’s shoulder, and the cleft of his jeans-clad ass to press sharply into the front of Ryuu’s boxing pants.
Ryuu eyes grow wide and he hisses lowly, reflexively yanking Ueda’s arm backwards. Ueda literally screams this time, because it fucking hurts, and Ryuu has perhaps twisted his arm more than he intended to. Ryuu immediately releases Ueda’s limb, and the latter falls to his knees, shaking and shivering, arm hanging by his side awkwardly; too sore to move.
The bitter taste of humiliation that coats his tongue in layers so thick, Ueda can almost taste it. He waits for it. Waits for Ryuu's laughter to echo above his head; for Ryuu to kick him while he’s down. He’ll just go and fine Kame later and perhaps get the youngest member to help him with getting the kinks out of his abused arm.
Ueda barely registers it, but he feels someone squat down next to him, and through the strands of messy copper locks, Ueda sees Ryuu reach out to touch his arm. He automatically jerks away, but Ryuu’s hand follows him and closes around his forearm none too gently. Ueda yelps again and the sudden jarring of the sore limb.
“What the fuck, Andou?” Ueda hisses, his breath coming out shaky and weird, puffing away stray strands of hair form his face. Ueda then feels Ryuu’s other hand move up to the joint at his shoulder and with strangely gentle motions - well, gentle for a person like Ryuu that is - massages it, moving the limb backwards and forewords carefully as though he were checking for any further damage.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” Ryuu says gruffly, still testing Ueda’s arm. Ueda can’t see his face, because he doesn’t really want to look at it in the first place. “Can you bend your arm?”
Ueda tries to, but then spits out an audible ‘fuck’, bites his full bottom lip and shakes his head violently. He finally steals a glance at Ryuu’s face that, for the first time in his life, is this close to his without being hostile and nasty. Ryuu’s brows are furrowed as he contemplates the situation at hand.
Ueda notes that Ryuu is actually really pretty - for a guy - and that if he were a little paler and had longer hair of a lighter colour, he’d look exactly like Ueda.
“It’s probably twisted a little,” Ryuu finally says, rubbing - roughly - at Ueda’s arm. “Nothing an ice pack and a night’s rest won’t fix.”
“And whose fault is that exactly?” Ueda bites out, his voice a low growl.
Ryuu rolls his eyes. “You started it,” he says, shrugging, “I was just defending myself.”
Ueda doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want to give Ryuu the satisfaction of seeing him crumble, so he grinds his teeth together and shuts up. Ryuu shakes his head at Ueda’s stubbornness, and gets to his feet, dragging Ueda mercilessly up as well. “Get up,” he says flatly, “You’d better strap on a pair and deal with pain if you expect to survive my training.”
Ueda wants to yell at him and say something along the lines of ‘Fuck you, I can resist pain just fine but what you did back there was borderline abuse’, but he doesn’t, and tries to think of anything - anything will do - but Ryuu’s stupid face.
“You can’t train like this,” Ryuu says flatly, arms crossed over his chest and eyes scanning Ueda’s limp arm. “I guess we’ll start real training next week.”
Ueda grits his teeth. And whose fucking fault is that?
“How did you get here?” Ryuu asks as he begins to pack his bag. “Did you walk?”
“Yes.” Ueda replies, and he doesn’t know why watching the way Ryuu’s muscles ripple beneath his sweat soaked tank is suddenly so interesting, if not arousing.
Ryuu strips off his top right there and then, revealing swathes of tanned skin, and Ueda’s breath hitches. Ryuu must have heard it, because the ass turns around to look at Ueda. The smirk that graces his lips this time is more playful than mocking, and Ueda can feel his face flame horribly.
“Like what you see?” Ryuu says, his voice husky. “Never fails to impress the ladies.”
Ueda spits out a word that would give Nakamaru a heart attack if he heard it and turns his back on Ryuu, snatches up his bag, before stomping towards the entrance. He makes it as far as the main door of the gym before he hears Ryuu’s voice calling after him.
“Hey! Wait a bit, Ueda.” he calls out, and Ueda shoots a dirty look over his shoulder - which is still throbbing - at Ryuu, who walks up to him in a loose grey tee covered with a slim biker’s jacket and paired with obscenely tight jeans.
“What now?” Ueda grinds out, “Do you want to chase me around the place like you used to back in high school?”
Ryuu’s jaw almost unhinges completely as he laughs loudly and sharply, shooting Ueda a look the screams ‘ohmygod and you are supposed to be my age’.
Ueda can feel himself blushing a hundred shades of crimson, and he can’t help but feel like he’s destroying whatever dignity he has left with his brattish behaviour, and it’s an unavoidable fact, because Ueda is a brat despite being 27 going on 28.
Ryuu sniggers at the waves of hostility rolling off Ueda’s tense form. “You still hate me for what happened back then?” he scoffs, laughing softly. “Grow the fuck up already, Ueda.”
Ryuu spares him a final scornful look before brushing past Ueda out the gym and disappearing into the milling crowd.
///
As usual, Kame is the first to realise that something is off.
Ueda’s inattention during meetings, live shows, and rehearsals is something that drives Kame - being the obsessive compulsive perfectionist that he is - close to insanity. Ueda is certain that if Akanishi weren’t around to be the soothing salve that calms him down, Kame would have most likely murdered Ueda ages ago.
It completely throws him off when Kame says nothing throughout the entire practise even though Ueda beat his personal record of number of screw ups in a single PV. Later that night, when Ueda is curled up on his couch with a glass of wine, brooding over the days events like the sulky brat that he is, his front door opens and Kame stalks in unabashedly with a dismissive ‘sorry for the intrusion’ thrown over his shoulder as he shrugs out of his coat.
“I’ll sic my dogs on you if you do that again,” Ueda says flatly, but doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. He kinda regrets giving Kame a key to his apartment.
“Please,” Kame snorts, rolling his eyes, “Your dogs love me.” And they prove just that by jumping up from being curled around Ueda’s feet and gambols straight into Kamenashi’s open arms. The traitors.
“I didn’t mean to mess up rehearsal,” Ueda says before Kame has the chance to speak. he doesn’t meet Kame’s eye, but zooms in on a sparkly drop of condensation hanging off the rim of his glass, looking incredibly sulky.
Kame gives Aero a final head rub before walking over to Ueda, folding himself easily into the soft cushions beside him. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks gently.
Ueda shoots Kame a sideways glance. “Who are you and what have you done to Kamenashi Kazuya?”
Kame pouts. “Is it so hard for you to believe that I actually care for my bandmates as well? C’mon Ueda, I’ve punched you, you’ve punched me, we’ve even hugged in front of 500 000 fans - TWICE - for Pete’s sake. I’d like to think we’re more than just ‘co-workers’,” says Kame, looking petulant, “Plus, I have a key to your home, Ueda. I’m definitely more than a co-worker. So? Tell me what’s going on.”
“No. Go away.”
“Uedaaaa~ Teeelllll meeeee~” Kame whines most immaturely, and flops warm and heavy onto Ueda.
“Get off me Kame, or I’ll really give you something to whine about - like a black eye for example.” Ueda snaps, leaning away as Kame invades him personal space completely.
“Tell me or I’ll sic Nishikido on your ass for the rest of the week.”
Ueda head turns sharply to face him, and his lips curl into a snarl. “You wouldn’t.”
Kame’s evil smirk grows wider. “Try me.”
They engage in a staring competition that has Ueda’s eyes watering in seconds, but Kame is still all smiley and bouncy, and downright annoying.
“Fine,” Ueda says, sighing heavily. “Fine, but let it be known that the great Kamenashi Kazuya uses underhand methods to force his friends into indecent acts.”
“There nothing indecent going on!” Kame squawks, looking scandalised, but then a sly grin spreads across his lips and he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Unless there’s something indecent going on with you that is. Spill it. Which poor bastard lost their virginity to you this time?”
“Fuck off.” Ueda deadpans.
Kame laughs, and pats him on the back affectionately. “But honestly now, what’s wrong, Ueda? You’ve been like this ever since you came back from boxing training. Did something happen?”
Ueda curls his fingers loosely into a fist and examines his nails with exaggerated prissiness that has Kame twitching in annoyance. “Oh, nothing much,” Ueda responds dismissively, “Unless you count the fact that the fucker who’s been giving me wedgies throughout high school being my new instructor, everything is just peachy.”
Kame has to blink several times before he can wrap his head around the situation. There is first confusion, then dawning, then shock, and finally smugness that settles into his features which makes Ueda feel like giving him two black eyes instead of one.
“So, your high school bully is your instructor?” Kame asks, his tone seeking confirmation.
Ueda grimaces before answering. “Yes.”
“And he remembers you like you remember him?”
“Yes.”
“And he knows that you are part of J&A? He knows about KAT-TUN?”
“Kame, the whole fucking world knows.”
“And this is what’s been eating at you this whole week?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, YES. Now you can either shut up before I throw you out!”
The stare at each other for a whole minute, Kame with a rather incredulous look in his eyes, and Ueda sporting a flushed face and a deep furrow between his brows.
And then Kame laughs.
The bushy-browed (okay, maybe not so much now), squinty eyed, narcissistic, girly-
“Ohmygod, my ribs!” Kame wheezes, his obnoxious laughter grating at Ueda’s nerves, and he sets down his wine glass on the coffee table roughly before pouncing on the laughing man.
They struggle until Ueda falls off the couch, dragging Kame off with him in the process. He hisses sharply when the back of his head connects with the hardwood floor with a loud smack. Kame lands on top of him with a squeal, legs tangled with Ueda’s own and head curled into the crook of Ueda’s neck.
The asshole is still laughing, short, gasping bursts of breath fanning along Ueda’s earlobe as Kame continues into hysterics. Kame is never allowed into his apartment ever again, Ueda decides. “Get off me,” he stresses, shoving awkwardly at the haphazard tangles of Kame’s limbs, before successfully extracting himself from under the squirming man. “And stop laughing or I’ll empty every single one of your hair product down the drain.”
Kame just giggles. “What do you want me to do?” he asks. “D’you want me to pick you up from training tomorrow?”
“Only if I’m late. But what I really want you to do, I get Johnny to do something about my irritating excuse of a trainer.
///
“Not like that, you idiot. Weren’t you even paying attention?”
Ueda grits his teeth, attempts to block out a certain asshole infuriating insults, and launches another fist at the training pads strapped to Ryuu’s muscular forearms. There is a satisfactory thwack, with the amount of force his previous instructor would have been proud of, but apparently in Ryuu’s books Ueda ostensibly, ‘hits like a fucking pansy’.
“You’re relying on your weight too much, fool,” Ryuu snaps, as he darts this way and that, giving Ueda harder target points to hit. “Don’t tense up so much before launching a punch, it’ll never be full power that way!”
Somebody had better shut Ryuu up before Ueda tears him a new one. He can barely see past the slick strands of sweat dampened hair that swings annoyingly before his vision, which is slowly, but surely, clouding with a red smog of anger and frustration as well as acute annoyance at Ryuu’s relentless onslaught of abusive remarks.
“Alright, stop. Stop it now.” Ryu groans loudly, but Ueda is too far gone to register anything else except that he must hit. Punch until Ryuu sees that he isn’t just some sissy Ryuu can order around any way he likes, because Ueda has had enough of that shit done to him by a certain Osakian midget.
Ryuu growls low when Ueda doesn’t stop, and has to dodge a punch that come flying at his chin. The man then swiftly launches a kick at Ueda’s feet, catching him around the ankles. Ueda’s world is flipped upside down, and then he realises that he is now staring up at the chipped ceiling of the gym. Ueda is panting hard, arms splayed out to his sides, and he tries to blink the sweat and hair out of his eyes.
“What don’t you understand when I say ‘Stop’? Are you that retarded?” Ryuu snarls somewhere above him (Ueda isn’t too sure) and he hears the sound of velcro being torn open, and the training punching pads being thrown to the floor.
Ueda pulls himself up and he is face to face with a very pissed-off looking Ryuu, who has the most amazing glare trained on him - even more amazing than his own. “Shut up.” Ueda mumbles, and gets to his feet. He isn’t sorry for disobeying Ryuu. The bastard deserves it. He deserves it oh so much.
Ryuu folds his arms over his muscled chest, and the way he looks at Ueda can only be described as scornful and disappointed. It stings more than it hurts. “Redo it,” he says coldly, nodding at the punching bag in the corner. “All of it.”
Ueda hates the way Ryuu orders him around. Hell, even Kamenashi knows better than to tell him what to do when he’s in one of his moods. He wants to stand there defiantly, but for some reason, the thought strikes him as seriously childish and brat-like, so Ueda complies, and steps awkwardly out from the boxing ring and stomps toward the sandbag.
Ryuu has Ueda working the bag for a good 15 minutes, then a water break, and then more punching.
“What did I say about your stance?” Ryuu snaps, “Get your foot in front! Hands higher!”
Ueda is literally grinding his teeth together now. He doesn’t understand why Ryuu insists on pushing all his buttons. It’s like he purposely wants Ueda to implode. His punches are getting more violent, but Ryuu doesn’t stop telling him off - doesn’t stop focusing on his wrongs rather than his rights.
Finally Ueda snaps.
“For fuck’s sake, SHUT UP,” he spits, whirling around to face Ryuu, who doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by the fury that rolls off Ueda’s shoulders in thick waves. “Is that all you can do? Insult me? Do you get off on making me feel like wanting to rip your face off? Go to hell, Andou, you sick fuck.”
Ryuu doesn’t blink, but Ueda can see the muscle at his jaw twitching in anger. “I’m doing my job, Ueda,” Ryuu replies, coldly, “What I’m telling you is what I see. If you can’t take the advice, then sucks to you, but I’m getting sick and tired of this. You aren’t even trying.”
“I AM,” Ueda nearly yells, beside himself completely now, “I am trying, Andou. I’m fucking trying but all you do is make me feel like shit, just like how you used to do.”
The way Ryuu’s eyes narrow dangerously startles Ueda slightly, but no enough to quell the rage boiling within him. “Why do you always dig up shit poor excuses from the past to support your actions?” Ryuu asks coldly. “What is it that you want from me, Ueda? A fucking apology? What good is that gonna do now?”
“Don’t you dare put this on me,” Ueda hisses. “You- You don’t have the fucking right to-”
But then there is a sharp knock at the door, which is flung open, with a very harassed-looking Kame, whose eyes scan the scene before him. “Ueda, you’re supposed to be at the studio half an hour ago.” he says, apparently not noticing Ryuu’s presence, nor the stifling tension in the room.
Ueda has to blink several times to register the fact that Kame is here. He glances to the clock and realises that - shitfuck - he is indeed, half and hour late.
Swearing under his breath, Ueda rips his gloves off and hurriedly rushes to stuff them into his bag, all the while noting the heated gaze boring into the back of his head.
“Oh, I didn’t see you- there…” Kame says, and Ueda raises a brow as Kame’s sentence finishes on a rather high note. “You must be Ueda’s new trainer.”
Ueda turns to see Ryuu shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah. You must be Kamenashi Kazuya huh? Sorry I kept him overtime.”
Ueda nearly gags. Was Andou Ryuu really apologising? And - fuck me, but is Kame fucking blushing?
“Ah, that’s fine! Thank you for treating Ueda so well.”
Ueda really feels sick now. “Shut up, Kame,” he mutters, and grabs the younger man by the upper arm to drag him out. “You are making a fool out of yourself.”
Kame bids Ryuu goodbye, and Ueda throws a gruff, “See you next week” over his shoulder. Ryuu doesn’t answer but that’s the least of Ueda’s problems now.
“Was that the guy you’ve been calling an asshole?” Kame asks, peering over his shoulder.
“Yes.” Ueda answers shortly.
They are silent while Kame unlocks his car doors.
“And you’ve been training with him for the past month?” Kame continues, in a suspiciously casual tone.
“Yes. Hurry up and drive.” Ueda says irritably, slipping into the car and fastening his belt.
Kame pulls out of the parking spot easily. The silence is comfortable for Ueda.
“And he you say he bullied you back in high school?”
“Jesus, what the hell is with your twenty questions!” Ueda finally snaps, slamming his palms on the dash, much to Kame’s annoyance. “I’ve already told you this before!”
“Well,” Kame stresses, “You never mentioned how fucking hot he is.” And Ueda actually chokes on his saliva, sending him into a fit of coughs.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t you dare throw up in my car,” Kame warns, “Idol or not, I will leave you by the roadside for the fangirls to finish off.”
Ueda laughs feebly. “Oh no, you are not getting any weird ideas about that bastard,” Ueda says. “I don’t care who you-”
“I just said he was hot, not that I wanted to get into his pants, for fuck’s sake,” Kame scoffs, rolling his eyes. “If anything, I think it’s you who wants to.”
Ueda gags again. “Excuse me?” he says, incredulously. “Did all the chemicals you’ve been using to murder your hair with finally fried your brain cells?”
“That’s virtually impossible,” Kame laughs, swerving into the back road that led up to the Jimusho. “But I’ll forgive you today seeing that you’re wound up tighter that Nakamaru’s virgin asshole.”
Ueda’s jaw falls open. “Maru is close to fucking 30.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s had his cherry popped yet.”
“I didn’t need that mental image, you asshat.”
Kame sighs. “Whatever, Ueda, but I’m just saying. The sexual tension in that room was thick enough for any sane person to notice.”
Ueda is silent as Kame pulls into his reserved parking space which is a very convenient 2 steps away from the entrance - only the best for Johnny’s ‘Golden Boy’.
“Anyway, try talking to him - and I mean talking, not punching - and see what he says. You should confront him and perhaps tell him why you still hate him. From what you’ve been telling me, it seems as though Ryuu doesn’t know just how much you care about whatever happened beck then.” Kame says gently as he shuts off the engine.
“Maybe there’s a reason behind what he’s doing. You just have to find out what.”
///
Chapters: 1/2
Pairings: Andou Ryuu/Ueda Tatusya (Ueda/Ueda), Kame/Ueda (friendship)
Rating: NC 17+ (for strong adult themes. There is no explicit sex)
Genre: Romance, angst, hurt/comfort, (very) slight fluff, humiliation
Warnings: AU (sorta), verbal abuse, almost-rape, intentionally hurting people, sadism, cruelty (slight), emotional/psychological pain, dehumanisation, unsympathetic!Ryuu, mockery, Ueda in his copper hair, crying Ueda
Synopsis: It’s not very hard to recognise him, that person. Fuck the fact that his initially pale skin is now tanned a deliciously shade of caramel; that his hair is now styled in such a way that it exposes the single silver earring that dangles off his left lobe; that his dark, depthless eyes grow wide when they meet Ueda’s equally bulging ones.
The universe must really, really, really hate him.
A/N: I’m not playing nice with this fic. IF IT TRIGGERS ANYTHING. DO NOT READ. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Second part is under revision, so please be patient.
Boxing is his release.
Ueda isn’t surprised that he enjoys it. It’s fun, and besides, Ueda isn’t really that feminine, even though he wears frilly clothes, unlike Kame who is a complete girl to the point where he carriers a friggin’ hair curler in his man-bag, Ueda knows that this is just his image; a mask if you will. Without it, the skinny teen with long blonde hair and spiky jewellery that hang like uncomfortable weights of his thin neck is back, and Ueda can’t help but want to squirm out of his skin that chokes out whatever self respect there is left in him.
He dons an image dipped in sparkly body glitter, facial stickers and a fairy-smile, complete with a pretty molten copper bob-cut that bounces around his ears, but it isn’t like he wants to constantly be labelled as ‘the girl’ in the group. Regardless, Ueda likes his androgynous looks, in complete honesty. That’s because being the one with the princess smile is him and no one else.
Ueda likes to think of it as his signature, like Kame and his tendency to change his hairstyle every other week, Nakamaru being the aisubeki idiot of the group, Koki and his over-exaggerated facial expressions, and Taguchi with his bad puns. It made him feel different - special if you will. Then again, it is perhaps the fault of the entertainment industry with it’s tendency to make idols develop weird obsessions that gave Ueda this need for a fluffy bob-cut, he doesn’t know.
Atelophobia isn’t something uncommon in his line of work; especially when the levels of testosterone behind the walls of J&A are spiking to new heights with the sheer number of rebellious teens Johnny marches in. Kamenashi never fails to give him the feeling of being god’s lesser loved son (or in his case, Johnny’s) - despite the fact that Ueda knows the younger man isn’t doing it on purpose.
He’s learnt to live with it so far. And perhaps being silver and not gold does have certain perks. For one, his schedule isn’t as tight as Kame’s who is literally powered only with caffeine on certain days where he barely gets time to sit, let alone rest.
Just like today. Ueda is free after afternoon rehearsals on Tuesdays, so he arranges to have private boxing sessions at a gym close to the Jimusho. He’s humming their new single as he sides past the glass doors and into the main halls. There is a bounce in his step, and Ueda has his good mood to blame for it. He descends a flight of steps that carry him down to a stuffy room smelling of wood, leather, and of course, sweat. He’s surprised when he sees another person already there with his instructor.
Ueda catches himself staring at the stranger’s back, as he rains several sharp, precise punches at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling, his instructor watching on with an impressed expression. The stranger’s movements are fluid and smooth, looking much like a dance in Ueda’s eyes. Sweat slides down in rivulets from the base man’s head and soaks the sleeveless tank he wears, with spiky, unruly black hair adding to the bad-boy image.
When his instructor sees him watching - or more like staring - at the strange man, he calls Ueda over. Ueda blinks rapidly, and mentally slaps himself. He shakes his head and approaches the two people. The man has stopped punching the bag, and is now removing the pair of worn silver boxing gloves with his teeth, ripping the bands of velcro to free his wrists. Ueda swallows dryly.
The man tosses the gloves to one side, before snatching up a bottle of chilled water from the edge of a table and takes a swig, Adam’s apple bobbing as the liquid slides down his throat. He turns around to face Ueda as he caps the bottle, and almost at once, Ueda feels something lodge itself in his windpipe, nausea and shock curdling at the pit of his gut and rising like bubbling magma.
It’s not very hard to recognise him, that person. Fuck the fact that his initially pale skin is now tanned a deliciously shade of caramel; that his hair is now styled in such a way that it exposes the single silver earring that dangles off his left lobe; that his dark, depthless eyes grow wide when they meet Ueda’s equally bulging ones.
The universe must really, really, really hate him.
///
Retiring.
His instructor is retiring.
Ueda barely registers what his instructor says after this, because Ryuu is watching him - fuck that, the freak is practically eating him inside out with that stare. Ryuu looks different, Ueda thinks. In high school, he resembled a delinquent who had nothing better to do that beat people up for kicks, and now, he looks like- like-
[Ryuu’s dark gaze scans Ueda’s entire being, from head to toe, and a predatory smirk curls at his lips sends a jolt up and down Ueda’s spine.]
- like a narcissistic asshole, Ueda concludes, brows dipping low into a scowl. His eyes dart away from Ryuu's, and he wants to hit himself for doing so, especially when he hears that familiar snort of derision that makes his insides twist in anger.
They have to shake hands, because it’s a formality. Ueda suppresses the shiver that travels up his arm as Ryuu’s hand closes tightly around his own. Ryuu is still sporting that feral grin while ‘properly’ introducing himself to Ueda, who in turn, does the same, only in a tighter, more controlled tone. Ryuu is all relaxed and completely chilled out. He reassures the instructor that he’ll definitely take good care of Ueda, and that he is not to worry about anything at all.
Ueda chokes on his own saliva at the sickly sweet sincerity in Ryuu’s voice.
When his instructor leaves Ryuu the keys to the gym, Ueda feels like whatever shred of dignity he has left is in the hands of someone who would stop at nothing to rip it to pieces and grind each piece into the dirt.
His instructor thumps him on the back, telling him that he should not be worried, because Ryuu is apparently a hair’s breadth from going pro, and that if there is anyone who can help train Ueda, it’s Ryuu. Ueda can see his life flashing before his eyes when his instructor leaves the room, door swinging shut in slow motion behind him for the last time.
Ueda counts to twenty, before turning around to face a very smug-looking Ryuu.
“So,” Ryuu begins, that predatory gleam still evident in his eyes. “An idol, huh? Who would’ve even thought that scrawny, ugly, little Tat-chan would grow up to look so pretty?”
Ueda winces. Oh god he can literally feel the magma shifting beneath the surface already, and it is not surprising that he can barely see past the fury that clogs his vision. “Don’t you even dare,” he says tightly.
Ryuu raises a delicate brow, and steps in closer, filling Ueda’s personal space with mixed smells of sweat, spicy deodorant, sandalwood, and musk. Ueda blinks, but does not remove his glare - glaring has always been his forte after all.
“Dare what, Tat-chan?” Ryuu whispers. “Dare what exactly?”
Ueda steps away immediately, trying to look as intimidating as possible.
And then Ueda only has time to see Ryuu lift his wrist, slender fingers that are bruised and chaffed squeezing into a tight fist before it flies straight at his face. Ueda inhales sharply, and shuts his eyes tight, waiting for it. Waiting for the familiar pain that he though he had escaped from forever.
It doesn’t come. Ueda waits and waits and waitsandwaitsandwaits- But there is nothing.
He then feels a sharp flick to his forehead, and this makes his eyes fly open in surprise and annoyance, only to see Ryuu’s darker ones staring back at him curiously.
“Did you actually think I was going to hit you?” Ryuu asks, brows raised and voice laced in such derision that Ueda feels a nerve snap.
He can only blink, Ryuu’s form swimming before his shaky vision. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing stupid contacts, and his eyes feel like someone had just tipped a bottleful of sand into each. Ueda swallows, but he’s not JE’s Mr Stoic for nothing. Shrugging lightly, he meets Ryuu’s gaze challengingly. “Nothing stopped you before,” he spits, but frowns harder when there is no reaction whatsoever from his target.
Ryuu doesn’t say anything, he just watches Ueda contemplatively. “It’s been fucking years, Ueda,” Ryuu finally says, his tone ridiculing. “I don’t see the point anymore. Besides,” Ryuu shrugs and turns his back to Ueda, walking toward his duffle bag dumped next to the boxing ring and stuffing his water bottle into it. “I’m your trainer now, and I seriously don’t need the hassle that comes packaged with the joy of getting to punch a member of Japan’s No.1 boy band.”
Ueda’s ears are pounding with anger, and his fingers are curled into tight fists by his sides. Right now, the only thing he can think of is burying his fist into Ryuu’s stupid face.
Ryuu turns around to see Ueda’s lips pulled into a tight line, and his slender hands balled into shaking fists. He smirks, and Ueda’s vision nearly goes white with rage. He doesn’t move through. He’s an idol, for fuck’s sake. He has better control than this. Dealing with Andou fucking Ryuu is nothing. After all, he’s been able to survive all those years with the midget Nishikido flapping his stupid Kansai accent into his ear, so Ryuu should be no problem at all.
Should be.
Ryuu laughs openly at Ueda’s trembling frame. “You are still as bad as you were all those years ago, Tat-chan.” he chastises. “Still with that horrible temper of yours. You’re such a girl.”
And Ueda snaps.
One minute he’s standing at least 8 feet away from Ryuu, and the next he is right up to Ryuu’s face, fist aimed at that stupid smirk. Ueda’s ears are ringing, but he doesn’t feel his fist connect with flesh, no. Instead, the tables are turned almost instantaneously, when Ryuu does some weird blocking move and he effectively grapples Ueda’s fist, before twirling his body around, twisting his arm and holding it securely against his back.
Ueda hisses in pain, but Ryuu doesn’t loosen his hold. Ueda’s back is pressed up against Ryuu, and he can feel the shifting muscles beneath the thin tank top. Ryuu is strong. Stronger than he last remembered, but hey, it’s been close to 10 years, and people change.
Ryuu allows his chin to drop to the dip of Ueda’s shoulder, breath brushing the shell of his ear. “Too slow, Tat-chan,” he whispers, and twists Ueda’s arm harder, tearing a yelp from his clamped lips. Ueda’s back arches sharply against Ryuu’s body despite his current position, forcing his head to push into Ryuu’s shoulder, and the cleft of his jeans-clad ass to press sharply into the front of Ryuu’s boxing pants.
Ryuu eyes grow wide and he hisses lowly, reflexively yanking Ueda’s arm backwards. Ueda literally screams this time, because it fucking hurts, and Ryuu has perhaps twisted his arm more than he intended to. Ryuu immediately releases Ueda’s limb, and the latter falls to his knees, shaking and shivering, arm hanging by his side awkwardly; too sore to move.
The bitter taste of humiliation that coats his tongue in layers so thick, Ueda can almost taste it. He waits for it. Waits for Ryuu's laughter to echo above his head; for Ryuu to kick him while he’s down. He’ll just go and fine Kame later and perhaps get the youngest member to help him with getting the kinks out of his abused arm.
Ueda barely registers it, but he feels someone squat down next to him, and through the strands of messy copper locks, Ueda sees Ryuu reach out to touch his arm. He automatically jerks away, but Ryuu’s hand follows him and closes around his forearm none too gently. Ueda yelps again and the sudden jarring of the sore limb.
“What the fuck, Andou?” Ueda hisses, his breath coming out shaky and weird, puffing away stray strands of hair form his face. Ueda then feels Ryuu’s other hand move up to the joint at his shoulder and with strangely gentle motions - well, gentle for a person like Ryuu that is - massages it, moving the limb backwards and forewords carefully as though he were checking for any further damage.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” Ryuu says gruffly, still testing Ueda’s arm. Ueda can’t see his face, because he doesn’t really want to look at it in the first place. “Can you bend your arm?”
Ueda tries to, but then spits out an audible ‘fuck’, bites his full bottom lip and shakes his head violently. He finally steals a glance at Ryuu’s face that, for the first time in his life, is this close to his without being hostile and nasty. Ryuu’s brows are furrowed as he contemplates the situation at hand.
Ueda notes that Ryuu is actually really pretty - for a guy - and that if he were a little paler and had longer hair of a lighter colour, he’d look exactly like Ueda.
“It’s probably twisted a little,” Ryuu finally says, rubbing - roughly - at Ueda’s arm. “Nothing an ice pack and a night’s rest won’t fix.”
“And whose fault is that exactly?” Ueda bites out, his voice a low growl.
Ryuu rolls his eyes. “You started it,” he says, shrugging, “I was just defending myself.”
Ueda doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want to give Ryuu the satisfaction of seeing him crumble, so he grinds his teeth together and shuts up. Ryuu shakes his head at Ueda’s stubbornness, and gets to his feet, dragging Ueda mercilessly up as well. “Get up,” he says flatly, “You’d better strap on a pair and deal with pain if you expect to survive my training.”
Ueda wants to yell at him and say something along the lines of ‘Fuck you, I can resist pain just fine but what you did back there was borderline abuse’, but he doesn’t, and tries to think of anything - anything will do - but Ryuu’s stupid face.
“You can’t train like this,” Ryuu says flatly, arms crossed over his chest and eyes scanning Ueda’s limp arm. “I guess we’ll start real training next week.”
Ueda grits his teeth. And whose fucking fault is that?
“How did you get here?” Ryuu asks as he begins to pack his bag. “Did you walk?”
“Yes.” Ueda replies, and he doesn’t know why watching the way Ryuu’s muscles ripple beneath his sweat soaked tank is suddenly so interesting, if not arousing.
Ryuu strips off his top right there and then, revealing swathes of tanned skin, and Ueda’s breath hitches. Ryuu must have heard it, because the ass turns around to look at Ueda. The smirk that graces his lips this time is more playful than mocking, and Ueda can feel his face flame horribly.
“Like what you see?” Ryuu says, his voice husky. “Never fails to impress the ladies.”
Ueda spits out a word that would give Nakamaru a heart attack if he heard it and turns his back on Ryuu, snatches up his bag, before stomping towards the entrance. He makes it as far as the main door of the gym before he hears Ryuu’s voice calling after him.
“Hey! Wait a bit, Ueda.” he calls out, and Ueda shoots a dirty look over his shoulder - which is still throbbing - at Ryuu, who walks up to him in a loose grey tee covered with a slim biker’s jacket and paired with obscenely tight jeans.
“What now?” Ueda grinds out, “Do you want to chase me around the place like you used to back in high school?”
Ryuu’s jaw almost unhinges completely as he laughs loudly and sharply, shooting Ueda a look the screams ‘ohmygod and you are supposed to be my age’.
Ueda can feel himself blushing a hundred shades of crimson, and he can’t help but feel like he’s destroying whatever dignity he has left with his brattish behaviour, and it’s an unavoidable fact, because Ueda is a brat despite being 27 going on 28.
Ryuu sniggers at the waves of hostility rolling off Ueda’s tense form. “You still hate me for what happened back then?” he scoffs, laughing softly. “Grow the fuck up already, Ueda.”
Ryuu spares him a final scornful look before brushing past Ueda out the gym and disappearing into the milling crowd.
///
As usual, Kame is the first to realise that something is off.
Ueda’s inattention during meetings, live shows, and rehearsals is something that drives Kame - being the obsessive compulsive perfectionist that he is - close to insanity. Ueda is certain that if Akanishi weren’t around to be the soothing salve that calms him down, Kame would have most likely murdered Ueda ages ago.
It completely throws him off when Kame says nothing throughout the entire practise even though Ueda beat his personal record of number of screw ups in a single PV. Later that night, when Ueda is curled up on his couch with a glass of wine, brooding over the days events like the sulky brat that he is, his front door opens and Kame stalks in unabashedly with a dismissive ‘sorry for the intrusion’ thrown over his shoulder as he shrugs out of his coat.
“I’ll sic my dogs on you if you do that again,” Ueda says flatly, but doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. He kinda regrets giving Kame a key to his apartment.
“Please,” Kame snorts, rolling his eyes, “Your dogs love me.” And they prove just that by jumping up from being curled around Ueda’s feet and gambols straight into Kamenashi’s open arms. The traitors.
“I didn’t mean to mess up rehearsal,” Ueda says before Kame has the chance to speak. he doesn’t meet Kame’s eye, but zooms in on a sparkly drop of condensation hanging off the rim of his glass, looking incredibly sulky.
Kame gives Aero a final head rub before walking over to Ueda, folding himself easily into the soft cushions beside him. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks gently.
Ueda shoots Kame a sideways glance. “Who are you and what have you done to Kamenashi Kazuya?”
Kame pouts. “Is it so hard for you to believe that I actually care for my bandmates as well? C’mon Ueda, I’ve punched you, you’ve punched me, we’ve even hugged in front of 500 000 fans - TWICE - for Pete’s sake. I’d like to think we’re more than just ‘co-workers’,” says Kame, looking petulant, “Plus, I have a key to your home, Ueda. I’m definitely more than a co-worker. So? Tell me what’s going on.”
“No. Go away.”
“Uedaaaa~ Teeelllll meeeee~” Kame whines most immaturely, and flops warm and heavy onto Ueda.
“Get off me Kame, or I’ll really give you something to whine about - like a black eye for example.” Ueda snaps, leaning away as Kame invades him personal space completely.
“Tell me or I’ll sic Nishikido on your ass for the rest of the week.”
Ueda head turns sharply to face him, and his lips curl into a snarl. “You wouldn’t.”
Kame’s evil smirk grows wider. “Try me.”
They engage in a staring competition that has Ueda’s eyes watering in seconds, but Kame is still all smiley and bouncy, and downright annoying.
“Fine,” Ueda says, sighing heavily. “Fine, but let it be known that the great Kamenashi Kazuya uses underhand methods to force his friends into indecent acts.”
“There nothing indecent going on!” Kame squawks, looking scandalised, but then a sly grin spreads across his lips and he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Unless there’s something indecent going on with you that is. Spill it. Which poor bastard lost their virginity to you this time?”
“Fuck off.” Ueda deadpans.
Kame laughs, and pats him on the back affectionately. “But honestly now, what’s wrong, Ueda? You’ve been like this ever since you came back from boxing training. Did something happen?”
Ueda curls his fingers loosely into a fist and examines his nails with exaggerated prissiness that has Kame twitching in annoyance. “Oh, nothing much,” Ueda responds dismissively, “Unless you count the fact that the fucker who’s been giving me wedgies throughout high school being my new instructor, everything is just peachy.”
Kame has to blink several times before he can wrap his head around the situation. There is first confusion, then dawning, then shock, and finally smugness that settles into his features which makes Ueda feel like giving him two black eyes instead of one.
“So, your high school bully is your instructor?” Kame asks, his tone seeking confirmation.
Ueda grimaces before answering. “Yes.”
“And he remembers you like you remember him?”
“Yes.”
“And he knows that you are part of J&A? He knows about KAT-TUN?”
“Kame, the whole fucking world knows.”
“And this is what’s been eating at you this whole week?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, YES. Now you can either shut up before I throw you out!”
The stare at each other for a whole minute, Kame with a rather incredulous look in his eyes, and Ueda sporting a flushed face and a deep furrow between his brows.
And then Kame laughs.
The bushy-browed (okay, maybe not so much now), squinty eyed, narcissistic, girly-
“Ohmygod, my ribs!” Kame wheezes, his obnoxious laughter grating at Ueda’s nerves, and he sets down his wine glass on the coffee table roughly before pouncing on the laughing man.
They struggle until Ueda falls off the couch, dragging Kame off with him in the process. He hisses sharply when the back of his head connects with the hardwood floor with a loud smack. Kame lands on top of him with a squeal, legs tangled with Ueda’s own and head curled into the crook of Ueda’s neck.
The asshole is still laughing, short, gasping bursts of breath fanning along Ueda’s earlobe as Kame continues into hysterics. Kame is never allowed into his apartment ever again, Ueda decides. “Get off me,” he stresses, shoving awkwardly at the haphazard tangles of Kame’s limbs, before successfully extracting himself from under the squirming man. “And stop laughing or I’ll empty every single one of your hair product down the drain.”
Kame just giggles. “What do you want me to do?” he asks. “D’you want me to pick you up from training tomorrow?”
“Only if I’m late. But what I really want you to do, I get Johnny to do something about my irritating excuse of a trainer.
///
“Not like that, you idiot. Weren’t you even paying attention?”
Ueda grits his teeth, attempts to block out a certain asshole infuriating insults, and launches another fist at the training pads strapped to Ryuu’s muscular forearms. There is a satisfactory thwack, with the amount of force his previous instructor would have been proud of, but apparently in Ryuu’s books Ueda ostensibly, ‘hits like a fucking pansy’.
“You’re relying on your weight too much, fool,” Ryuu snaps, as he darts this way and that, giving Ueda harder target points to hit. “Don’t tense up so much before launching a punch, it’ll never be full power that way!”
Somebody had better shut Ryuu up before Ueda tears him a new one. He can barely see past the slick strands of sweat dampened hair that swings annoyingly before his vision, which is slowly, but surely, clouding with a red smog of anger and frustration as well as acute annoyance at Ryuu’s relentless onslaught of abusive remarks.
“Alright, stop. Stop it now.” Ryu groans loudly, but Ueda is too far gone to register anything else except that he must hit. Punch until Ryuu sees that he isn’t just some sissy Ryuu can order around any way he likes, because Ueda has had enough of that shit done to him by a certain Osakian midget.
Ryuu growls low when Ueda doesn’t stop, and has to dodge a punch that come flying at his chin. The man then swiftly launches a kick at Ueda’s feet, catching him around the ankles. Ueda’s world is flipped upside down, and then he realises that he is now staring up at the chipped ceiling of the gym. Ueda is panting hard, arms splayed out to his sides, and he tries to blink the sweat and hair out of his eyes.
“What don’t you understand when I say ‘Stop’? Are you that retarded?” Ryuu snarls somewhere above him (Ueda isn’t too sure) and he hears the sound of velcro being torn open, and the training punching pads being thrown to the floor.
Ueda pulls himself up and he is face to face with a very pissed-off looking Ryuu, who has the most amazing glare trained on him - even more amazing than his own. “Shut up.” Ueda mumbles, and gets to his feet. He isn’t sorry for disobeying Ryuu. The bastard deserves it. He deserves it oh so much.
Ryuu folds his arms over his muscled chest, and the way he looks at Ueda can only be described as scornful and disappointed. It stings more than it hurts. “Redo it,” he says coldly, nodding at the punching bag in the corner. “All of it.”
Ueda hates the way Ryuu orders him around. Hell, even Kamenashi knows better than to tell him what to do when he’s in one of his moods. He wants to stand there defiantly, but for some reason, the thought strikes him as seriously childish and brat-like, so Ueda complies, and steps awkwardly out from the boxing ring and stomps toward the sandbag.
Ryuu has Ueda working the bag for a good 15 minutes, then a water break, and then more punching.
“What did I say about your stance?” Ryuu snaps, “Get your foot in front! Hands higher!”
Ueda is literally grinding his teeth together now. He doesn’t understand why Ryuu insists on pushing all his buttons. It’s like he purposely wants Ueda to implode. His punches are getting more violent, but Ryuu doesn’t stop telling him off - doesn’t stop focusing on his wrongs rather than his rights.
Finally Ueda snaps.
“For fuck’s sake, SHUT UP,” he spits, whirling around to face Ryuu, who doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by the fury that rolls off Ueda’s shoulders in thick waves. “Is that all you can do? Insult me? Do you get off on making me feel like wanting to rip your face off? Go to hell, Andou, you sick fuck.”
Ryuu doesn’t blink, but Ueda can see the muscle at his jaw twitching in anger. “I’m doing my job, Ueda,” Ryuu replies, coldly, “What I’m telling you is what I see. If you can’t take the advice, then sucks to you, but I’m getting sick and tired of this. You aren’t even trying.”
“I AM,” Ueda nearly yells, beside himself completely now, “I am trying, Andou. I’m fucking trying but all you do is make me feel like shit, just like how you used to do.”
The way Ryuu’s eyes narrow dangerously startles Ueda slightly, but no enough to quell the rage boiling within him. “Why do you always dig up shit poor excuses from the past to support your actions?” Ryuu asks coldly. “What is it that you want from me, Ueda? A fucking apology? What good is that gonna do now?”
“Don’t you dare put this on me,” Ueda hisses. “You- You don’t have the fucking right to-”
But then there is a sharp knock at the door, which is flung open, with a very harassed-looking Kame, whose eyes scan the scene before him. “Ueda, you’re supposed to be at the studio half an hour ago.” he says, apparently not noticing Ryuu’s presence, nor the stifling tension in the room.
Ueda has to blink several times to register the fact that Kame is here. He glances to the clock and realises that - shitfuck - he is indeed, half and hour late.
Swearing under his breath, Ueda rips his gloves off and hurriedly rushes to stuff them into his bag, all the while noting the heated gaze boring into the back of his head.
“Oh, I didn’t see you- there…” Kame says, and Ueda raises a brow as Kame’s sentence finishes on a rather high note. “You must be Ueda’s new trainer.”
Ueda turns to see Ryuu shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah. You must be Kamenashi Kazuya huh? Sorry I kept him overtime.”
Ueda nearly gags. Was Andou Ryuu really apologising? And - fuck me, but is Kame fucking blushing?
“Ah, that’s fine! Thank you for treating Ueda so well.”
Ueda really feels sick now. “Shut up, Kame,” he mutters, and grabs the younger man by the upper arm to drag him out. “You are making a fool out of yourself.”
Kame bids Ryuu goodbye, and Ueda throws a gruff, “See you next week” over his shoulder. Ryuu doesn’t answer but that’s the least of Ueda’s problems now.
“Was that the guy you’ve been calling an asshole?” Kame asks, peering over his shoulder.
“Yes.” Ueda answers shortly.
They are silent while Kame unlocks his car doors.
“And you’ve been training with him for the past month?” Kame continues, in a suspiciously casual tone.
“Yes. Hurry up and drive.” Ueda says irritably, slipping into the car and fastening his belt.
Kame pulls out of the parking spot easily. The silence is comfortable for Ueda.
“And he you say he bullied you back in high school?”
“Jesus, what the hell is with your twenty questions!” Ueda finally snaps, slamming his palms on the dash, much to Kame’s annoyance. “I’ve already told you this before!”
“Well,” Kame stresses, “You never mentioned how fucking hot he is.” And Ueda actually chokes on his saliva, sending him into a fit of coughs.
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t you dare throw up in my car,” Kame warns, “Idol or not, I will leave you by the roadside for the fangirls to finish off.”
Ueda laughs feebly. “Oh no, you are not getting any weird ideas about that bastard,” Ueda says. “I don’t care who you-”
“I just said he was hot, not that I wanted to get into his pants, for fuck’s sake,” Kame scoffs, rolling his eyes. “If anything, I think it’s you who wants to.”
Ueda gags again. “Excuse me?” he says, incredulously. “Did all the chemicals you’ve been using to murder your hair with finally fried your brain cells?”
“That’s virtually impossible,” Kame laughs, swerving into the back road that led up to the Jimusho. “But I’ll forgive you today seeing that you’re wound up tighter that Nakamaru’s virgin asshole.”
Ueda’s jaw falls open. “Maru is close to fucking 30.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s had his cherry popped yet.”
“I didn’t need that mental image, you asshat.”
Kame sighs. “Whatever, Ueda, but I’m just saying. The sexual tension in that room was thick enough for any sane person to notice.”
Ueda is silent as Kame pulls into his reserved parking space which is a very convenient 2 steps away from the entrance - only the best for Johnny’s ‘Golden Boy’.
“Anyway, try talking to him - and I mean talking, not punching - and see what he says. You should confront him and perhaps tell him why you still hate him. From what you’ve been telling me, it seems as though Ryuu doesn’t know just how much you care about whatever happened beck then.” Kame says gently as he shuts off the engine.
“Maybe there’s a reason behind what he’s doing. You just have to find out what.”
///