Spilled Coffee and Arrogant Hotshots for the Community!
Title: Spilled Coffee and Arrogant Hotshots
Author: arysthaeniru
Recipient: The Community!
Pairing/Characters: Tachibana An/Kirihara Akaya, (minor characters) Osakada Tomoka, Tachibana Kippei, Marui Bunta
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: grumpy characters, mentions of fighting
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, including the 112,823 chocolates he received for Valentines Day.
Summary: An really doesn’t understand the fuss around Kirihara Akaya, cello prodigy and popular artist. Sure, he’s sort of pretty, but isn’t everybody in this industry? Besides, it can’t be worth an attitude like that, right?
Notes: Despite this not being a primary pairing for me, I had a lot of fun writing it, haha! I wish I could have written more, but alas, time constraints are the enemy.
Honestly, being a member of a hot-shot music group wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For one, when you started, it was near impossible to get any gigs, competing against people who were appealing to niche markets, such as the idols or the visual kei groups or hip-hop groups. When your group consisted of one powerhouse vocalist and sexy dancer (An), a sassy rapper and producer (Tomo-chan) and a sweet, innocent vocalist and beautiful lyric writer (Sakuno-chan), they turned out to be rather versatile as a group. Their albums were eclectic and all over the place, which made it a little difficult to keep fans. People liked hearing a consistent sound, which An thought was stupid, frankly. The world was filled with shifting, changing music trends, and ideas. It was just the nature of the globalized world, and if you didn’t adapt and utilise the different talents and sounds and ideas that existed, you would die out. And An intended their group to last as long as possible.
And somehow, despite the world still preferring niche groups, the Kaleidoscope Girls had managed to hit it big with their previous release. People all over Asia were singing their song, and apparently, if the internet was any indication, it was starting to hit some western circles too, which was amazing, for a group who’d barely sold anything before. An still remembered the pathetic fanmeets they’d held in the first year of their existence, and how Sakuno-chan had gone home to cry in the bathrooms and Tomo-chan had stalked around the streets of Tokyo, to drive off her woes.
And then five weeks ago, they’d hit number one, on the Oricon Charts with their viral song, practically impossible for a non-idol band who’d been virtually unknown before. Upon hearing the news, Tomo, An and Sakuno had screamed, gotten very drunk in their apartment and spent all of the next day stupidly grinning, even through their awful hangover.
Of course, their company, being smart, was planning to bank on that victory, pushing them to be everywhere all at once. The past month had been filled with photoshoots, new music videos to tide over fans about some other songs on their album, dance practises for remixes of the song and performance versions of the song, variety shows to talk about the song and make their faces and personalities more known to the general public. And now, they were starting on their first major tour, across five different countries, where they would do mini concerts and fanmeets.
Tomo-chan had been bouncing with nervous excitement all day, nervous for their first day of touring in Singapore, but An was just tired, if she was honest. Having exposure was better than being unknown, anybody with sense would agree with that, and she had spent far too many days in the past being so idle. But she hadn’t slept more than nine hours this whole week, and it was taking its toll on her. She wasn’t like Sakuno who could sleep absolutely anywhere if she had her panda neckpillow, which meant she was grumpily awake in the airport lounge, watching as Tomo pestered their manager with increasingly annoying questions, wishing that she was back in her bed.
Tomo’s voice was starting to take on a sort of buzzing quality, that came from not having to breathe at all in order to talk or rap (sometimes An wondered whether Tomo was human), and even their amazingly patient manager looked like she was about to die. When Tomo got like this, only Sakuno could calm her down, with whispered words between them, but of course, Sakuno was next to An, whuffling softly and endearingly into her panda pillow, soft pink lips open and eyelashes fluttering.
It was probably a sign that An needed more happiness and sleep in her life, when the sight of someone else being able to sleep made her feel intense fury. To avoid doing something that she would regret, An stood up suddenly, and straightened her favourite hoodie.
“Kame-san, I’m going to grab some coffee and some pastries. Want anything?” she asked, politely to their manager.
“No, thank you. Make sure to not get anything too sugary, we’re still working on that diet.” her manager answered, easily and Tomo, who’d looked like she was about to ask for something, deflated suddenly. Shrugging helplessly at Tomo, An left the lounge, happy to be doing something to try and stave off the anger and intense exhaustion. Tomo loved sugar intensely and passionately, which meant that their current diet was painful for her. An, who wasn’t quite as attached to sugary sweets, was doing a bit better, but she was rather frustrated about the lack of bread in her life. Bread always reminded her of Kippei and how they’d used to bake together and talk, when An had been in training, and how he’d been her confidante. It always made her relaxed, and now she couldn’t even eat that.
Frustrating, but everything in his industry was about sacrifice. Work hard now, enjoy it later. An shoved her hands into her hoodie and leant back, as she waited in line for the coffee. She was getting rather fed up of later, and it had barely even been three years. God, how was she going to do this?
“Black coffee, please.” said An, with a cough, “Extra hot, if you can.” By the frank stare that the barista was giving her, An had forgotten to keep on her mask, and she almost flushed. Rookie mistake, she couldn’t afford that, especially when she only had minimal makeup on. She smiled, with embarrassment at the barista, who almost spilled the milk, and An turned to look away, a slight feeling of happiness.
It was one thing to get attention during fanmeets and all, but being recognized around the city was something else. Very flattering, very satisfying, even if possibly dangerous for her career. Whatever. Taking a brief moment to close her eyes and lean back against the wall of the cart, An felt a frank exhaustion settle over her bones. Times like this were the times when she really should call Akira or Tetsu, and let their mothering, gentle tones soothe over her aching body, but even that felt like too much effort.
“Black coffee for A--” An opened her eyes and grabbed the coffee before the barista could finish his sentence, and pressed a finger to her lips, with a quick wink. The barista spluttered but nodded back. Taking a deep sip of the rich coffee, An sighed, contentedly, slowly meandering across the airport floor, in absolutely zero hurry to get back to the private lounge. Due to their flight being delayed by like an hour, she had plenty of time to spare, and she was content to just wander the airport, easily.
At least that was the plan, up until she collided straight into someone, who was rather heavy, muscled and going at a very fast speed. An was strong from hours in the dance room, but there was no preventing this. With a soft ‘oof’ from the air leaving her body, An toppled backwards, feeling the hot coffee spill all over her favourite hoodie and cascade over the front of the stranger who’d barrelled her down, awkwardly trapping her legs, with awkward limbs and a heavy suitcase. She cried out in pain, as the man tried to get up, and accidentally pressed down on her boobs.
“What the fuck.” she hissed, pushing him away, to the side, reaching downwards to cradle her shin, which was throbbing with pain, from what looked like a cello case toppling down on top of it.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Shit, shit shit, please don’t kill me, I’m so sorry, but my plane’s going to leave soon and I’m so fucking la--” babbled the man, as he pulled himself upwards, and held out a hand to pull her up, falling silent as he caught sight of her face. Taking his hand up wordlessly, An scanned over his face. With a sloping pixie nose, mischievous green eyes and curly black hair, he was unmistakably Kirihara Akaya: the youngest cello player in the world to have his own solo concert doing some of the most difficult pieces in the world, but had been ultimately ignored, until five years ago, when he had appeared on a talent show and had charmed the world with his playing and his boyish personality.
She still remembered watching the programme and being awed by exactly how well he’d teased out the mournful sounds from the cello, an all-encompassing sadness emanating from the piece which had seemed completely at odds with his cheerful demeanour at the time. But after three years of her own in the music industry, An now knew exactly how much depth could be hidden behind a cute smile and how much courage it must have taken, to show that side of himself to the world.
…okay, maybe she’d gone through a little bit of a puppy crush at some point, but with hot coffee rolling down her arms, all thoughts of admiration were gone, and the only thing that was occupying her brain was sheer frustration.
“Fuck.” Kirihara muttered, breaking An’s train thought, abruptly. “Fuck, is your company going to sue me for like damaging their idol?” he asked, as An realized the heat and the uncomfortable feeling of coffee seeping onto her skin. She stripped off the sodden hoodie, with an unhappy frown. That was probably unsalvageable.
“No.” An answered absently, as she tossed it into the nearby bin, with a longing look, “I’m not an idol. But my fans might skewer you for touching me, famous cello prodigy or no, so I want another coffee to have to deal with the inevitable PR fiasco.”
Kirihara looked a bit panicked, as he looked around them, quickly, pulling his cello and luggage upright again. An followed his gaze. Nobody seemed to have snapped a picture of their embarrassing incident, though there were definitely people staring. Still, it was the age of technology advances who knew what cameras were around. It was better to assume that something bad had happened and go from there. “But I’m late--”
“Tough.” An said, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m sticky and half-asleep and really ready to kill something--I need coffee, and you owe me that much for running into me like an ass.”
Kirihara muttered something unflattering under his breath, as he plucked at his own soaked black shirt, but stalked over to the nearest coffee stand with her. “One black coffee please.” An said, coolly, and Kirihara jumped in, over her shoulder, “And a cappuccino, thanks.” He forked out his card, looking bored, and An grabbed some of the napkins on the counter, to pat at the sticky mess on her arms, but when pieces of white started to cling to her arms instead, she gave up and decided to go and wash up in the bathroom, when Kirihara left.
“Where are you in such a hurry to, anyway?” asked An, tossing away the sodden mess of towels.
“Changi, Singapore, my flight’s leaving in like two minutes, I’m going to miss the pre-boarding because of you.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. An’s eyes narrowed, with a mixture of judgement and curiosity.
“With Singapore Airlines?” she asked, quietly.
“Yeah. Why?” asked Kirihara, turning to look at her, nonplussed expression over his features. It was sort of cute. “You some sort of mega-stan or something? I can understand that, I’m hot as hell.” He flipped his hair, and winked, obnoxiously and her previous thoughts of him being almost cute vanished in an instant. God, she hated guys who were full-of-themselves.
“Perish the thought.” An said, faking a full-body shudder at that thought, feeling quite satisfied by his scowl at that, “But that’s actually my plane, and we got delayed by an entire hour and a half, which you should know, if you were actually organized. We could have avoided being splashed with my hot coffee.”
Kirihara’s mouth dropped open, with sheer shock. “You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you Tachibana-chan? I ran all the way here and it’s fucking delayed?” he demanded, sounding horrified.
An snickered softly, pressing a hand to her mouth. “That’s what having the airport app installed on your phone is for.” Internally, she could only feel a little more interested. Very few casual listeners of her music knew her as anything but An-chan. The thought that the aloof, talented, obnoxious Kirihara-kun was actually aware of her full name like an obsessive fan, made her very smug inside.
Their coffees were called, and An picked it up, being careful to attach the cap of the coffee properly and stop any more incidents from happening in the future. “Thanks, I guess.” she said, rubbing her fingers down her sticky wrist, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing in Singapore. I’m going to go and wash up so--” She made a vague motion towards the bathroom and a weird hand-flip that might have been a wave.
Kirihara sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, looking very tired and nervous, all of a sudden. “Want me to hold your coffee for you while you go? We have time, I guess.”
An blinked, carefully. That was a surprising request, the sort of nice action without prompting that she hadn’t come to expect from boys that weren’t Kippei. “Oh. Yeah. That’d be nice, I suppose.” she said, giving him a small, rueful smile. “I’ll do the same for you once I’m done, your shirt can’t be comfy.”
He nodded, as he gripped her coffee carefully and An slipped inside, to mop at her hands, and her ruined shirt. Having already checked in most of her clothes, and only having a spare jacket and blanket in her hand-luggage back with the manager, she was just going to have to deal with the fact that her shirt was vaguely coffee-stained now. She dampened it in the sink as best as she could, and thanked the lord that the shirt had a sort of vintage look that might make the coffee stains look intentional instead of a mistake. Her skin was sort of red and a little sensitive, but wasn’t burning from pain or anything, which was a good sign. Burns would have been a bad thing to deal with through their concert schedule.
After giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror, to make her look less of a dishevelled mess, An slipped out of the bathroom, to stand next to Kirihara’s luggage and grab their coffees. The hot, rich taste of black coffee through her veins made her feel a little less homicidal. The advantage to this whole situation was that she was thoroughly awake now, and wouldn’t have to worry about drifting around in a miserable tired state. And now the caffeine was slowly making life less miserable, she felt more willing to be the chirpy An-chan that was part of the Kaleidoscope Girls.
“Thanks.” Kirihara said, scooping his coffee out of her hands. His button-down black shirt had been replaced by a dark-blue long-sleeves shirt, fashionably ripped and stressed at the sleeves and collar, which somehow made him look hotter. “Didn’t really take you to be a black coffee sort of person, Tachibana-san.”
“Low sugar diet.” An said, with a shrug, as she drained her cup, and dumped the cup into the trash bin next to the bathrooms, straightening upwards. “But even without that, not the hugest fan of sugary sweet stuff. My brother and I always used to eat healthy.”
Kirihara nodded. “Smart.” he said, with a shrug as they slowly started to walk through the airport. It was surprisingly easy to fall into step with him. “Makes looking after yourself when you’re older good. Supposedly. I’m not amazing at following my diet, so I wouldn’t know about the benefits.” he said, with an easy laugh.
“You have a diet?” asked An, feeling curious despite herself. “Didn’t think that anybody except idols and wannabe-idols had that sort of management.”
Kirihara pulled a face, his nose wrinkling upwards with a surprising cuteness. No wonder he was popular among older women, something about him made you want to take care of him. Until you realized that he was a cocky shit, she supposed. “Something about longevity and good influences and some shit. I think my manager’s just trying to pit me against Yuzuru Hanyu for available young bachelor of the year, honestly. Because that kid keeps himself fit.”
An laughed, pressing her hands to her mouth, to hide the huge grin on her face. “It’s unfair to compare.”
“Oh yeah? I mean, how can Yuzuru compete with a face like this, right?” Kirihara said, flashing her a huge smile. It was a pretty cute smile, but An would rather throw herself off the top of Tokyo Tower than admit it, when he was so clearly fishing for compliments.
“I meant it’s not even a competition because he’s way hotter than you. I mean, have you seen his abs? And his arms are so muscly and dreamy.” she said, pretending to swoon in fake-thirst, unable to completely hide the laugh at his look of distaste.
Pulling at his sleeves, he scowled. “I have muscles. You know how ripped you have to be to hold a cello and drag it around everywhere? Pretty damn fit. I bet my arms are better.”
With a disdainful laugh, An turned to the cello and tapped the case, easily. “Nice try, but the case has wheels. And you don’t even hold up a cello, you just prop it between your legs and balance it nicely. Playing a violin requires more upper arm strength than playing cello.”
“Well, you know, a cello isn’t the only interesting thing between my legs.” He said, with a lecherous wink. “If you know what I mean.”
An spluttered for a full moment, unbelievable to believe her ears. “What.” she said, filling that one word with all of her disdain. God, she hadn’t had enough coffee to be ready for people hitting on her. And this badly....well, she hadn’t had experiences like this for a very long time. not since she’d become a trainee, in any case.
Not seeming to understand how weirded out An was, he continued. “We could get in treble and go all the way to third base.” he said, waggling his eyebrows now. If the terrible puns weren’t bad enough, the conversation itself was awkward and uncomfortable, and he couldn’t take a hint about this, since he seemed to be opening his mouth again, so An cut him off, quickly.
“Hey, you know why else Yuzuru Hanyu is more popular than you? He has shame and a sense of politeness. You might want to try it sometime.” she snapped, storming away back towards the lounge, the momentary sense of calm that had come from the caffeine quickly evaporating. God. And he was on the same flight as her? She’d have to wrestle the window seat from Tomo and make sure he was as far away from her as possible.
She didn’t want to have to deal with that awkwardness again.
(X)
Suppressing a yawn behind her hand, An leant back in her chair, with a few inappropriately sounding squeaks from the old leather. Behind her, the stylist was still messing around with her short hair, curling it at the edges, and giving it blonde-highlights, so she looked a little softer around the edges, in a way that made her a little more approachable. She didn’t quite like the way blonde made her look, but it was better than the one unadvised time that she’d gone with pink streaks and had looked very, very odd. Shinji had once called her to just laugh for a full five minutes and Kyosuke had had plenty of things to say about An finally becoming a girly girl, which had made those three months of pink very difficult to deal with.
Somehow, almost a month after their tour had finished, and two months since their last release, they were still relevant, people still wanting to see their faces on things, and hear them. An was a little bemused, but grateful by the steady income that was finally trickling down to them, the sudden attention they were receiving had managed to pay their debts and allow her to send a bit of cash home to Kippei, to try and pay back a little bit of what he’d done by supporting her.
“Alright, all done. The photographer wants to see you now, so you can meet the other model.” said the stylist, as An straightening upwards, bowing to thank her for the hard work.
Peering out into the room, An bowed lowly to greet the photographer, who greeted her politely. Then, to her horror, from the side, carrying a large prop box and wearing one of the most stylish casual suits An had ever seen on guys, was Kirihara Akaya. Of course he was the other model for Nylon Japan. And of course he had the gall to look damn well good in his clothes.
It made sense, in an annoying way. Nylon always chose the hottest new celebrities who popular among the youth to model for their covers, and Kirihara was making waves with his new album, thanks to his numerous collaborations with a lot of popular artists from around the world. Not to mention the variety show that he co-hosted with one of the prettiest actresses in the world, which made him almost omnipresent in the entertainment industry, with his pretty face. It didn’t mean she had to like it though, not after their awkward meeting last time.
“Oh, it’s you.” An said, sighing exasperatedly before she could stop the words escaping from her mouth. She quickly bowed to him, politely but formally, and he reciprocated, eyebrow raised in amusement. She had half a mind to run a hand through her hair, under his intense gaze, but she was also pretty sure that the stylist would stab her in the eyeball with the hair straighteners if An did anything of the sort. “Let’s just get this over with, Kirihara-san.”
Kirihara looked at her for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes, that for a moment, almost looked hurt, before he just rolled his eyes, cocky and haughty, the fabric stretching over his shoulders with a little too much grace for An’s liking. “Yeah, yeah, sooner this is over, sooner I can go leave.”
The photographer shot a despairing look at An, and An bowed apologetically back at them, before the whole team started to pose her and Kirihara. Regardless of their personal hang-ups, An and Kirihara were both very good at their jobs, that much was clear by the way that Kirihara effortlessly angled himself to hit the camera, with just the right expression to make him desirable. An wasn’t sure if she was doing the same, but the photographer had approximately zero complaints for her, same as Kirihara, which had to mean something about her prowess.
The lights were hot, and her makeup was just starting to reach the point of uncomfortable, as the photographers demanded they get a little closer together, using the weird props around them, to balance upon. He propped his elbow on her shoulder and she leant back against his chest, in a manner that would look intimate on camera, but was actually just very uncomfortable, especially with An trying her best to not let her bodyweight actually fall against Kirihara. Slight muscles showing through his suit jacket or not, she didn’t particular trust him to not let her fall. Her thighs were fairly strong from hours in dance studio, but this pose was difficult to hold while still looking effortless.
They did another few shots like that, where Kirihara’s hands were all over her, and she tried to pretend that she was aloof to them, until the photographer exhaled and shook his head. “And we were doing so well. Take a break, then come back and pretend that you’re not awkward with each other long enough for me to get a good group shot for the front page, please?”
An exhaled and shook back her curled hair, hand going to her fringe which was not clipped back with cute hairclips for once, but braided up, to look more sophisticated. She was tired already, and she wanted this photoshoot to be over. And apparently that meant she had to try and pretend to like Kirihara without giving him any ideas. Accepting a cup of tea from Kame-san in the corner, An bit down on the straw, contemplatively.
“Kame-san, was it okay?” she asked, tugging at the tight dress she was wearing, feeling self-conscious under the gaze of her strict manager, suddenly.
Kame-san looked up from her phone, like it was a huge burden, but noticed the look in An’s eyes and exhaled, heavily. “You’re tense today. Relax a little. Pretend you’re on stage; go boneless like you usually do.”
An looked down. “But....” she said, not really sure what she was protesting, in all honesty. Her gaze slid over to where Kirihara had flopped to the floor, where his manager was fussing over his tie, rolling his eyes with smooth subtle motions. They seemed very close, and An felt a small twinge of jealousy, for a moment. Kame-san was very down-to-earth and knew everything, but she wasn’t exactly close with any of the three of them.
Kame-san turned to look over at Kirihara as well, and her eyes sparked with recognition. “The kid that spilled coffee all over you? The famous cello player that we had to do a PR cover-up for? What’s the matter? You don’t actually like him, do you?” Kame-san sounded very worried for a moment and An was quick to shake her head, and deny it, loudly.
“No, no! It’s the opposite problem actually.” An said, pulling a face. “He’s obnoxious, but I have to pretend to like him.”
“Oh trust me, that’s much easier than the opposite.” Kame-san said, instantly relaxing back into her chair, not even looking in the slightest bit concerned. “Just pretend that he’s someone hot that you like, and flop all over him. That’s what they’re looking for anyway.” Seeing An’s skeptical look, Kame-san rolled her eyes. “Alright, then just go and talk to him, then. Find something about him that’s bearable and focus on that for the rest of the shoot.”
“But...”
“But nothing. Stop angsting, otherwise I’ll be the one to get in trouble for your face having wrinkles.” Kame-san snapped, returning to her phone, making it quite clear that the conversation was over. Some use her manager was.
Violently finishing her tea, An dumped it into the bin and shook her hair back again, as she stepped out onto the floor, where Kirihara was waiting, a bored look on his face as he absently kicked one of the props, as the photographers adjusted the lighting. “Curly hair’s such a pain.” she said, tucking it behind her ear, with a little annoyance, “No idea how you deal with it, normally.”
Kirihara looked up, raising an eyebrow. “It’s my natural hair. You get used to it.”
“Natural? No way. Are you like half-foreign or something?” An asked, making her voice more high-pitched and cute. An-chan was much better at dealing with annoying people than Tachibana An ever would be and she did want to make a bit of peace.
Kirihara snorted, softly and started outright laughing, which drew attention to them. An felt like she would be more okay with this if she knew exactly why he was laughing, Instead, she was left feeling increasingly awkward and annoyed. “God, you really can’t act. Good thing you aren’t on some drama or something.” he said, finally, inbetween obnoxious peals of laughter.
And she’d been trying to be polite too. Seeing red for a moment, she scowled and rolled her eyes. “Well excuse for trying. It’s not easy to deal with dicks in human form.”
Kirihara laughed, even more, though this time was incredulous. “Well, you’re a piece of work, darling.”
An raised an eyebrow, with cool contempt. “Nobody calls me darling. If you say that again, pretty jacket or not, I’ll punch you right here.” Pretty sure that someone would stop her before something happened, but of course, the threat was the most important thing; that was what Akira had taught her.
He snorted, cheeks going slightly red, whether from anger or embarrassment, An wasn’t sure. “I’d like to see you try. You couldn’t even reach my face, midget.”
Before An could retort with something else cutting, the photographer returned, and scowled at them. “Focus please, let’s get this done quickly.”
Somehow, it became easier to place her arms around Kirihara’s neck, tightening to an almost unreasonable level of pressure, while smiling beatifically. Kirihara still managed to smile through it, and his revenge was to pull her very very close and squeeze her waist, like that corset she’d worn for some promo pictures previously. Unwilling to give in even one smidgen, An didn’t let her face change at all. When he pulled her into a backhug, her response after the picture was to immediately stamp on his foot with the base of her heel, and the sharp, pained exhale of breath against her blonde hair was like the biggest admittance of victory ever. Until he breathed into her ear, “Your voice is so grating that even violins would cry of despair.”
She squawked unhappily, turning around to whack him, hard, with indignation. “Kirihara-san!” she said, outraged, and the photographer sighed.
“I should have known it was too good to last. Whatever, we got some nice shots, you two are free to go.” said the photographer, lazily waving them away.
An elbowed Kirihara, hard, straight to the gut, before stalking over to her manager, with a scowl. Kame-san cut off An’s ranting before it could start, by gripping her shoulder and pulling An from the room, not even looking up from her phone. God, An was fucking furious and her manager didn’t even have the decency to let An vent.
Turning around, to shoot one last glance at Kirihara, whose manager was verbally berating him for something, An scowled and vowed to call her brother when she got home. She would need the little bubble of peace that Kippei always managed to give her.
(X)
At this point, An was starting to think that some higher deity hated her or something. Miserably, she stared down at the seating chart for the fashion show week, which she and Tomo were attending, while Sakuno filmed her solo MV. Sakuno deserved it, of course, garnering over half their fans by her pure and innocent image, and her beautiful haunting voice, but it still didn’t mean that An wasn’t a little bitter about not being able to go for the solo first, despite being the eldest.
“Tomo,” asked An, staring at the sheet with a little despair, “Can we please switch?”
“Seats?” asked Tomo, pushing up to her tiptoes to see the seating chart. “Why?”
“Have to sit next to that dick, Kirihara, again. I can’t do it, Tomo.” An said, pulling a pathetic face. Tomo and Sakuno were closer to each other than they were to An, being the same age and very compatible, but they were still each other’s’ support systems and told each other everything, including enemies and crushes. Tomo had been first-hand witness to An’s rant about Kirihara, the moment she’d come home from the Nylon shoot, and had been a devious enabler of An’s circular ranting, by plying her with cheap sake.
Tomo hummed, uncertainly, her small hand comfortingly on An’s shoulder as a balance. “I would, but Yukimura Seiichi is sitting on the other side of me, and there’s no way I’m passing up conversation with him. You don’t really like his designs, but I think I might be in love with his paintings.”
An made a noise of betrayal and gaped at Tomo, shaking off Tomo’s grip so she could lean forward to back Tomo against the wall. “Tomo! Your thirst shouldn’t be outweighing my comfort. Chicks before dicks! Please? I’ll cover for your midnight bubble tea runs for a whole month, if we can switch.”
Tomo’s red lips twitched together, looking honestly torn, hands fisting in her adorable chiffon dress. “An-chan-senpai, please? I think I really like him. And I’m his type; he said so in an interview once. Can’t you just ignore Kirihara-san? Or you could find Shiba-san and try to switch with her...?”
An groaned. Shiba was their reporter friend, well known and very friendly to them, despite their relatively new appearance on the entertainment scene. The problem with going to see Shiba and trying to switch with her was that Shiba sat right at the back, which meant less camera attention on her beautiful face, but the main problem was that Shiba would definitely not switch, because she was convinced that An and Kirihara were friends.
Their cover pictures had looked just a bit too friendly, despite both of them having wanted to murder each other at the time, and it had sparked a whole bunch of internet comments shipping them, especially since the PR fiasco with Kirihara spilling coffee all over her, had managed to hit the forums at the same time. Luckily, she’d not been asked about Kirihara in any official interviews, but she knew that there were already people on the internet who shipped them a bit, if only for ‘aesthetics’, if their flooded twitter account was any indication. Still, their company had refused to address the rumours, fearing that denying anything would just fuel rumours further, something for which An was grateful. Shiba, despite An’s protests, seemed to firmly believe that they had some sort of chemistry and would definitely not switch with her if she asked.
“I hate you, Tomo. Watch if I cover for your makeout sessions with Sakuno ever again.” An sulked, crossing her arms across her chest, with a huff.
Tomo blinked, for a moment, before shaking her head, frantically. “We don’t makeout! Sakuno’s way too prude and scared for that....”
Deciding to ignore the fact that Tomo had basically admitted how much she would have very much wanted to do that, An turned on her heel and walked away, running her hand through her hair, absently. Although her stylist had wanted her to stay with blonde, especially since it had been a big hit with the fans, An had begged her to dye it into a deeper black, to contrast with her natural brown. Her stylist had agreed, but it also meant that An had to wear slightly thicker makeup, with smoky eyes and dark lipstick which itched a bit against her sensitive skin, but looked great for the cameras. She’d practically been assaulted with cameras at the red carpet yesterday, for the first arrivals and she was sure that today, she would be even more attention-grabbing.
It would be great, and An would be very happy about all of that if that asshole wasn’t sitting next to her and ruining it. Her fist clenched for a moment, before a very familiar voice floated into her head, echoing a conversation she’d had with him, previously, late at night, when her manager hadn’t been monitoring them. In times like this, you’ve got to be the better person. You’re going to have to interact with him, so why not try to be more civil? Swallow your pride and apologize for your bad reactions, be the better person in this simulation, and if it still doesn’t do anything, that’s when you’re free to hate him. But from what you’ve told me, he’s just annoying, not someone truly to be despised.
He’d always been better than her, An mused, as she tugged at the edges of her hair, taking a seat near the front of the fashion plaza early, waving at some reporters opposite her. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to give Kirihara another chance, but she also knew that there would be serious consequences if they continued to stay at odds. He had a popular variety show, she was someone who needed every contact she could get, if she wanted to persuade her company to give her a solo too, once Sakuno was done promoting, and he was someone she couldn’t afford to have as an enemy.
Besides, she didn’t like the feeling of having to avoid anybody, not when An was usually such a good conversationalist.
“Oh.” Kirihara muttered, as he drew closer to his seat, eyebrows furrowing. He wore something that looked pulled tight around his chest, but flowed loosely elsewhere. It would have looked like a fashion disaster on anyone else, especially in a shade of yellow that looked a little too mustardy to be pleasant, but he pulled it off with surprising grace. It made An feel a little self-conscious about her red shorts, maroon jacket draped over her shoulders and flowy, chiffon shirt, which made her look casually put together. “It’s you.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ignoring the twinge of annoyance and the slight red that threatened to make An lose her temper, she took in a deep breath and shrugged. “It’s me.” she said, swinging her legs in front of her in a steady rhythm. “If you want to switch seats, I don’t care.”
Kirihara scowled and dropped into the chair, without another word, pulling out his phone, to scroll through something. An stared at the lights above the congregating photographers for a little while, before exhaling. It took courage to swallow her pride, more than Kippei would ever account for, she knew, but she had to do it. For the sake of her future. “Look, I’m sorry. I know we got off on a bad note, and it just escalated, but I am sorry.” she said, not looking back towards Kirihara. “That being said, I’m not sorry for being unable to put up with shit.”
Kirihara snorted, and there was a momentary rustling and an exhale, before he spoke again. “I accept your apology, and I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to offend.”
An held her tongue, but somehow she couldn’t really help but want to snark that calling her voice more rusty than a violin, was definitely a comment that was meant to hurt. But she was trying to be good, so asked instead, “Okay. You here for a particular fashion model? Or designer?”
Kirihara nodded, looking a little reluctant. “Yeah, a friend of mine, Jackal, he’s a model for that new fusion designer, Kite Eishirou? I’m out here to support him. You?”
An shrugged, tucking her hands underneath her thighs, not really sure of what she was doing. “Just here because I can. This sort of stuff is more Tomo’s scene than mine, but she didn’t want to go alone, and I didn’t have anything else to do, since Sakuno’s promoting.” She looked around her, eyes landing on the foreign celebrities, laughing loudly from further down the runway seating, “Besides, this way I can get a bit of eye-candy or something.”
Kirihara laughed, and it was surprisingly attractive, when it wasn’t mocking her. “Oh yeah? That’s like half the reason I end up coming here. It’s not really my scene either, but you know, Bros first and everything. Where are your scenes, then?”
Pulling a face, An tilted her head back. This was surprisingly turning into a pretty civil conversation, and she was surprised. “Mmm, I do better in the studio; dance or recording doesn’t matter, because I’m a bit of a workaholic. I like cafés too, and even clubs if I’m in the right mood. But fashion’s not something I obsessively follow; I just like wearing nice things.”
“I feel you.” Kirihara said, nodding easily, black curls bouncing a bit. “I’m a club person myself, though I always end up at lounges instead, because my manager’s got connections there, and he likes to make me squirm inbetween old ladies who want me to play for them, even when I haven’t got my cello on me.” he said, rolling his eyes.
An couldn’t help but grin, in commiseration. “Everyone wants you to break out and demonstrate your skill, even when you’re completely unprepared. I remember I was shopping, and some kids recognized me, and asked me to dance so they could get it on film, when I was wearing like eight-inch heels and jeans.” she said, leaning back a little more comfortably.
“No way?” he asked, with a disbelieving laugh, “Did you do it?”
“Please, like I would embarrass myself like that. I just signed something for them and fled.” An corrected, rueful grin on her face. Tomo had laughed about that incident for ages, and it still made An a little amused to think about.
“Why were you shopping in eight inch heels, anyway? Isn’t that impractical as hell? But I can barely use insoles without feeling weird, so I guess I can’t talk.” Kirihara muttered, pulling a face.
“Insoles?” asked An, with a teasing smile, “You’re so weak, oh my god. Even Sakuno-chan can use insoles, and she’s one of the people with the worst balances I’ve ever seen. Hell, she dances in three-inch wedges. We all do.”
Kirihara shook his head. ‘That’s insane. I don’t understand it. I remember I wore insoles for the day of my first televised performance and almost tripped and broke my cello backstage.” he said, face distant. “I don’t think my manager ever forgave me for scaring him so much. Though he was more concerned about the cello than he was about me, so that was pretty ego-deflating.”
An laughed, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Good cellos are probably worth more than you, anyway.” she said, suppressing the very prominent urge to point out how that ego-deflation hadn’t lasted very long. That was just a little bit too much on the jibing edge for reconciliation. Kippei would be proud of her holding her tongue. “I would have been more worried about the cello too.”
“That’s because you’re heartless, behind all the giggling you do on TV.” Kirihara drawled, leaning back in his chair.
“Hey, they weren’t marketing me as the nice member, anyway. Sakuno’s the one who’s genuinely sweet and all. I’m the one who gets shit done and looks hot while doing it.” An said, raising an eyebrow. Sakuno was pretty and wonderful, and An still didn’t know how Sakuno managed to stay eternally nice and unable to hurt people ever, not when An’s cutting tongue and Tomo’s thoughtless words could often scar so deeply, but Sakuno could barely even injure someone with her most damning insult.
“Won’t disagree there.” Kirihara said, significantly and An’s mouth twitched, with a little more amusement, at the compliment. A way of smoothing over their conflicts, she supposed. “Though I would think that you would at least attempt to be polite.”
“I think we moved out of the range of formality once you spilled coffee all over me.” An said, with a shrug, as Tomo took a seat next to her, already in deep conversation with Yukimura Seiichi, and another taller man with perfectly ash-blond hair. “I’m only polite to people who’re polite to me.”
After a couple of moments of contemplation, Kirihara nodded. “Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” he said, and they lapsed back into silence for a moment, as An turned over to where Tomo was currently laughing at something Yukimura was saying, hand on his knee. Feeling slightly amused, An adjusted herself properly back on her chair.
“Hey, isn’t that your song over the PA?” asked Kirihara, looking upwards, suddenly and An blinked in surprise.
She closed her eyes and listened, and sure enough, the familiar pulsing beat of one of the songs that An had helped produce for a b-side track was being blasted over as waiting music for the fashion show. Slowly, she felt a grin spread over her face. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, and one of the b-side stuff too. Wow. That’s so weird.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you ever get over the sensation of hearing some of your shit on the radio. I walked into this perfume shop the other day, and one of my collabs was playing there and that was super awkward.” Kirihara said, cheerily, and damn, if his smile wasn’t cute when he wasn’t being obnoxious. She could almost see his appeal, when he wasn’t talking much.
“There’s that too,” An acknowledged, leaning forward, placing her chin in her hand, “But I was actually talking about the fact that you recognized one of my lesser-known tracks instantly. Before I did. And I produced the damn thing.” Kirihara’s expression looked cautiously caged, and An smirked, small and soft. “You also called me Tachibana-san when we first met, and I barely ever talk about my real name on interviews.”
His face looked very closed off and An smiled mockingly-sweet. “It’s alright if you’re a fan and all, you know. I’m very popular.”
“Please, everyone knows that the hottest member of Kaleidoscope is Tomo.” said Kirihara, rolling his eyes, but the tips of his ears were slightly red and his tongue kept running over his bottom lip as he spoke.
An just grinned, with sly amusement. “But you don’t know her full name.”
Kirihara exhaled and now, she could almost see the tinge of pink across his cheeks. “God, shut up.” he said, but he sounded more embarrassed than annoyed, and An laughed, sweetly.
“Alright, alright, I’ll leave it be. But you know. If you ever want an autograph.” she teased, one final time, leaning forward, almost suggestively.
He shoved her side, with annoyance and he laughed again, drawing the attention of the trio next to them, who looked very amused. Tomo especially, grinned lecherously, sticking out her tongue in one slow languid motion. An rolled her eyes and jabbed Tomo’s ankle with her foot, as the music dimmed and the show started, feeling a lot happier.
Go To Part II
Author: arysthaeniru
Recipient: The Community!
Pairing/Characters: Tachibana An/Kirihara Akaya, (minor characters) Osakada Tomoka, Tachibana Kippei, Marui Bunta
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: grumpy characters, mentions of fighting
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, including the 112,823 chocolates he received for Valentines Day.
Summary: An really doesn’t understand the fuss around Kirihara Akaya, cello prodigy and popular artist. Sure, he’s sort of pretty, but isn’t everybody in this industry? Besides, it can’t be worth an attitude like that, right?
Notes: Despite this not being a primary pairing for me, I had a lot of fun writing it, haha! I wish I could have written more, but alas, time constraints are the enemy.
Honestly, being a member of a hot-shot music group wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. For one, when you started, it was near impossible to get any gigs, competing against people who were appealing to niche markets, such as the idols or the visual kei groups or hip-hop groups. When your group consisted of one powerhouse vocalist and sexy dancer (An), a sassy rapper and producer (Tomo-chan) and a sweet, innocent vocalist and beautiful lyric writer (Sakuno-chan), they turned out to be rather versatile as a group. Their albums were eclectic and all over the place, which made it a little difficult to keep fans. People liked hearing a consistent sound, which An thought was stupid, frankly. The world was filled with shifting, changing music trends, and ideas. It was just the nature of the globalized world, and if you didn’t adapt and utilise the different talents and sounds and ideas that existed, you would die out. And An intended their group to last as long as possible.
And somehow, despite the world still preferring niche groups, the Kaleidoscope Girls had managed to hit it big with their previous release. People all over Asia were singing their song, and apparently, if the internet was any indication, it was starting to hit some western circles too, which was amazing, for a group who’d barely sold anything before. An still remembered the pathetic fanmeets they’d held in the first year of their existence, and how Sakuno-chan had gone home to cry in the bathrooms and Tomo-chan had stalked around the streets of Tokyo, to drive off her woes.
And then five weeks ago, they’d hit number one, on the Oricon Charts with their viral song, practically impossible for a non-idol band who’d been virtually unknown before. Upon hearing the news, Tomo, An and Sakuno had screamed, gotten very drunk in their apartment and spent all of the next day stupidly grinning, even through their awful hangover.
Of course, their company, being smart, was planning to bank on that victory, pushing them to be everywhere all at once. The past month had been filled with photoshoots, new music videos to tide over fans about some other songs on their album, dance practises for remixes of the song and performance versions of the song, variety shows to talk about the song and make their faces and personalities more known to the general public. And now, they were starting on their first major tour, across five different countries, where they would do mini concerts and fanmeets.
Tomo-chan had been bouncing with nervous excitement all day, nervous for their first day of touring in Singapore, but An was just tired, if she was honest. Having exposure was better than being unknown, anybody with sense would agree with that, and she had spent far too many days in the past being so idle. But she hadn’t slept more than nine hours this whole week, and it was taking its toll on her. She wasn’t like Sakuno who could sleep absolutely anywhere if she had her panda neckpillow, which meant she was grumpily awake in the airport lounge, watching as Tomo pestered their manager with increasingly annoying questions, wishing that she was back in her bed.
Tomo’s voice was starting to take on a sort of buzzing quality, that came from not having to breathe at all in order to talk or rap (sometimes An wondered whether Tomo was human), and even their amazingly patient manager looked like she was about to die. When Tomo got like this, only Sakuno could calm her down, with whispered words between them, but of course, Sakuno was next to An, whuffling softly and endearingly into her panda pillow, soft pink lips open and eyelashes fluttering.
It was probably a sign that An needed more happiness and sleep in her life, when the sight of someone else being able to sleep made her feel intense fury. To avoid doing something that she would regret, An stood up suddenly, and straightened her favourite hoodie.
“Kame-san, I’m going to grab some coffee and some pastries. Want anything?” she asked, politely to their manager.
“No, thank you. Make sure to not get anything too sugary, we’re still working on that diet.” her manager answered, easily and Tomo, who’d looked like she was about to ask for something, deflated suddenly. Shrugging helplessly at Tomo, An left the lounge, happy to be doing something to try and stave off the anger and intense exhaustion. Tomo loved sugar intensely and passionately, which meant that their current diet was painful for her. An, who wasn’t quite as attached to sugary sweets, was doing a bit better, but she was rather frustrated about the lack of bread in her life. Bread always reminded her of Kippei and how they’d used to bake together and talk, when An had been in training, and how he’d been her confidante. It always made her relaxed, and now she couldn’t even eat that.
Frustrating, but everything in his industry was about sacrifice. Work hard now, enjoy it later. An shoved her hands into her hoodie and leant back, as she waited in line for the coffee. She was getting rather fed up of later, and it had barely even been three years. God, how was she going to do this?
“Black coffee, please.” said An, with a cough, “Extra hot, if you can.” By the frank stare that the barista was giving her, An had forgotten to keep on her mask, and she almost flushed. Rookie mistake, she couldn’t afford that, especially when she only had minimal makeup on. She smiled, with embarrassment at the barista, who almost spilled the milk, and An turned to look away, a slight feeling of happiness.
It was one thing to get attention during fanmeets and all, but being recognized around the city was something else. Very flattering, very satisfying, even if possibly dangerous for her career. Whatever. Taking a brief moment to close her eyes and lean back against the wall of the cart, An felt a frank exhaustion settle over her bones. Times like this were the times when she really should call Akira or Tetsu, and let their mothering, gentle tones soothe over her aching body, but even that felt like too much effort.
“Black coffee for A--” An opened her eyes and grabbed the coffee before the barista could finish his sentence, and pressed a finger to her lips, with a quick wink. The barista spluttered but nodded back. Taking a deep sip of the rich coffee, An sighed, contentedly, slowly meandering across the airport floor, in absolutely zero hurry to get back to the private lounge. Due to their flight being delayed by like an hour, she had plenty of time to spare, and she was content to just wander the airport, easily.
At least that was the plan, up until she collided straight into someone, who was rather heavy, muscled and going at a very fast speed. An was strong from hours in the dance room, but there was no preventing this. With a soft ‘oof’ from the air leaving her body, An toppled backwards, feeling the hot coffee spill all over her favourite hoodie and cascade over the front of the stranger who’d barrelled her down, awkwardly trapping her legs, with awkward limbs and a heavy suitcase. She cried out in pain, as the man tried to get up, and accidentally pressed down on her boobs.
“What the fuck.” she hissed, pushing him away, to the side, reaching downwards to cradle her shin, which was throbbing with pain, from what looked like a cello case toppling down on top of it.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Shit, shit shit, please don’t kill me, I’m so sorry, but my plane’s going to leave soon and I’m so fucking la--” babbled the man, as he pulled himself upwards, and held out a hand to pull her up, falling silent as he caught sight of her face. Taking his hand up wordlessly, An scanned over his face. With a sloping pixie nose, mischievous green eyes and curly black hair, he was unmistakably Kirihara Akaya: the youngest cello player in the world to have his own solo concert doing some of the most difficult pieces in the world, but had been ultimately ignored, until five years ago, when he had appeared on a talent show and had charmed the world with his playing and his boyish personality.
She still remembered watching the programme and being awed by exactly how well he’d teased out the mournful sounds from the cello, an all-encompassing sadness emanating from the piece which had seemed completely at odds with his cheerful demeanour at the time. But after three years of her own in the music industry, An now knew exactly how much depth could be hidden behind a cute smile and how much courage it must have taken, to show that side of himself to the world.
…okay, maybe she’d gone through a little bit of a puppy crush at some point, but with hot coffee rolling down her arms, all thoughts of admiration were gone, and the only thing that was occupying her brain was sheer frustration.
“Fuck.” Kirihara muttered, breaking An’s train thought, abruptly. “Fuck, is your company going to sue me for like damaging their idol?” he asked, as An realized the heat and the uncomfortable feeling of coffee seeping onto her skin. She stripped off the sodden hoodie, with an unhappy frown. That was probably unsalvageable.
“No.” An answered absently, as she tossed it into the nearby bin, with a longing look, “I’m not an idol. But my fans might skewer you for touching me, famous cello prodigy or no, so I want another coffee to have to deal with the inevitable PR fiasco.”
Kirihara looked a bit panicked, as he looked around them, quickly, pulling his cello and luggage upright again. An followed his gaze. Nobody seemed to have snapped a picture of their embarrassing incident, though there were definitely people staring. Still, it was the age of technology advances who knew what cameras were around. It was better to assume that something bad had happened and go from there. “But I’m late--”
“Tough.” An said, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m sticky and half-asleep and really ready to kill something--I need coffee, and you owe me that much for running into me like an ass.”
Kirihara muttered something unflattering under his breath, as he plucked at his own soaked black shirt, but stalked over to the nearest coffee stand with her. “One black coffee please.” An said, coolly, and Kirihara jumped in, over her shoulder, “And a cappuccino, thanks.” He forked out his card, looking bored, and An grabbed some of the napkins on the counter, to pat at the sticky mess on her arms, but when pieces of white started to cling to her arms instead, she gave up and decided to go and wash up in the bathroom, when Kirihara left.
“Where are you in such a hurry to, anyway?” asked An, tossing away the sodden mess of towels.
“Changi, Singapore, my flight’s leaving in like two minutes, I’m going to miss the pre-boarding because of you.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. An’s eyes narrowed, with a mixture of judgement and curiosity.
“With Singapore Airlines?” she asked, quietly.
“Yeah. Why?” asked Kirihara, turning to look at her, nonplussed expression over his features. It was sort of cute. “You some sort of mega-stan or something? I can understand that, I’m hot as hell.” He flipped his hair, and winked, obnoxiously and her previous thoughts of him being almost cute vanished in an instant. God, she hated guys who were full-of-themselves.
“Perish the thought.” An said, faking a full-body shudder at that thought, feeling quite satisfied by his scowl at that, “But that’s actually my plane, and we got delayed by an entire hour and a half, which you should know, if you were actually organized. We could have avoided being splashed with my hot coffee.”
Kirihara’s mouth dropped open, with sheer shock. “You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you Tachibana-chan? I ran all the way here and it’s fucking delayed?” he demanded, sounding horrified.
An snickered softly, pressing a hand to her mouth. “That’s what having the airport app installed on your phone is for.” Internally, she could only feel a little more interested. Very few casual listeners of her music knew her as anything but An-chan. The thought that the aloof, talented, obnoxious Kirihara-kun was actually aware of her full name like an obsessive fan, made her very smug inside.
Their coffees were called, and An picked it up, being careful to attach the cap of the coffee properly and stop any more incidents from happening in the future. “Thanks, I guess.” she said, rubbing her fingers down her sticky wrist, “Good luck with whatever you’re doing in Singapore. I’m going to go and wash up so--” She made a vague motion towards the bathroom and a weird hand-flip that might have been a wave.
Kirihara sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, looking very tired and nervous, all of a sudden. “Want me to hold your coffee for you while you go? We have time, I guess.”
An blinked, carefully. That was a surprising request, the sort of nice action without prompting that she hadn’t come to expect from boys that weren’t Kippei. “Oh. Yeah. That’d be nice, I suppose.” she said, giving him a small, rueful smile. “I’ll do the same for you once I’m done, your shirt can’t be comfy.”
He nodded, as he gripped her coffee carefully and An slipped inside, to mop at her hands, and her ruined shirt. Having already checked in most of her clothes, and only having a spare jacket and blanket in her hand-luggage back with the manager, she was just going to have to deal with the fact that her shirt was vaguely coffee-stained now. She dampened it in the sink as best as she could, and thanked the lord that the shirt had a sort of vintage look that might make the coffee stains look intentional instead of a mistake. Her skin was sort of red and a little sensitive, but wasn’t burning from pain or anything, which was a good sign. Burns would have been a bad thing to deal with through their concert schedule.
After giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror, to make her look less of a dishevelled mess, An slipped out of the bathroom, to stand next to Kirihara’s luggage and grab their coffees. The hot, rich taste of black coffee through her veins made her feel a little less homicidal. The advantage to this whole situation was that she was thoroughly awake now, and wouldn’t have to worry about drifting around in a miserable tired state. And now the caffeine was slowly making life less miserable, she felt more willing to be the chirpy An-chan that was part of the Kaleidoscope Girls.
“Thanks.” Kirihara said, scooping his coffee out of her hands. His button-down black shirt had been replaced by a dark-blue long-sleeves shirt, fashionably ripped and stressed at the sleeves and collar, which somehow made him look hotter. “Didn’t really take you to be a black coffee sort of person, Tachibana-san.”
“Low sugar diet.” An said, with a shrug, as she drained her cup, and dumped the cup into the trash bin next to the bathrooms, straightening upwards. “But even without that, not the hugest fan of sugary sweet stuff. My brother and I always used to eat healthy.”
Kirihara nodded. “Smart.” he said, with a shrug as they slowly started to walk through the airport. It was surprisingly easy to fall into step with him. “Makes looking after yourself when you’re older good. Supposedly. I’m not amazing at following my diet, so I wouldn’t know about the benefits.” he said, with an easy laugh.
“You have a diet?” asked An, feeling curious despite herself. “Didn’t think that anybody except idols and wannabe-idols had that sort of management.”
Kirihara pulled a face, his nose wrinkling upwards with a surprising cuteness. No wonder he was popular among older women, something about him made you want to take care of him. Until you realized that he was a cocky shit, she supposed. “Something about longevity and good influences and some shit. I think my manager’s just trying to pit me against Yuzuru Hanyu for available young bachelor of the year, honestly. Because that kid keeps himself fit.”
An laughed, pressing her hands to her mouth, to hide the huge grin on her face. “It’s unfair to compare.”
“Oh yeah? I mean, how can Yuzuru compete with a face like this, right?” Kirihara said, flashing her a huge smile. It was a pretty cute smile, but An would rather throw herself off the top of Tokyo Tower than admit it, when he was so clearly fishing for compliments.
“I meant it’s not even a competition because he’s way hotter than you. I mean, have you seen his abs? And his arms are so muscly and dreamy.” she said, pretending to swoon in fake-thirst, unable to completely hide the laugh at his look of distaste.
Pulling at his sleeves, he scowled. “I have muscles. You know how ripped you have to be to hold a cello and drag it around everywhere? Pretty damn fit. I bet my arms are better.”
With a disdainful laugh, An turned to the cello and tapped the case, easily. “Nice try, but the case has wheels. And you don’t even hold up a cello, you just prop it between your legs and balance it nicely. Playing a violin requires more upper arm strength than playing cello.”
“Well, you know, a cello isn’t the only interesting thing between my legs.” He said, with a lecherous wink. “If you know what I mean.”
An spluttered for a full moment, unbelievable to believe her ears. “What.” she said, filling that one word with all of her disdain. God, she hadn’t had enough coffee to be ready for people hitting on her. And this badly....well, she hadn’t had experiences like this for a very long time. not since she’d become a trainee, in any case.
Not seeming to understand how weirded out An was, he continued. “We could get in treble and go all the way to third base.” he said, waggling his eyebrows now. If the terrible puns weren’t bad enough, the conversation itself was awkward and uncomfortable, and he couldn’t take a hint about this, since he seemed to be opening his mouth again, so An cut him off, quickly.
“Hey, you know why else Yuzuru Hanyu is more popular than you? He has shame and a sense of politeness. You might want to try it sometime.” she snapped, storming away back towards the lounge, the momentary sense of calm that had come from the caffeine quickly evaporating. God. And he was on the same flight as her? She’d have to wrestle the window seat from Tomo and make sure he was as far away from her as possible.
She didn’t want to have to deal with that awkwardness again.
(X)
Suppressing a yawn behind her hand, An leant back in her chair, with a few inappropriately sounding squeaks from the old leather. Behind her, the stylist was still messing around with her short hair, curling it at the edges, and giving it blonde-highlights, so she looked a little softer around the edges, in a way that made her a little more approachable. She didn’t quite like the way blonde made her look, but it was better than the one unadvised time that she’d gone with pink streaks and had looked very, very odd. Shinji had once called her to just laugh for a full five minutes and Kyosuke had had plenty of things to say about An finally becoming a girly girl, which had made those three months of pink very difficult to deal with.
Somehow, almost a month after their tour had finished, and two months since their last release, they were still relevant, people still wanting to see their faces on things, and hear them. An was a little bemused, but grateful by the steady income that was finally trickling down to them, the sudden attention they were receiving had managed to pay their debts and allow her to send a bit of cash home to Kippei, to try and pay back a little bit of what he’d done by supporting her.
“Alright, all done. The photographer wants to see you now, so you can meet the other model.” said the stylist, as An straightening upwards, bowing to thank her for the hard work.
Peering out into the room, An bowed lowly to greet the photographer, who greeted her politely. Then, to her horror, from the side, carrying a large prop box and wearing one of the most stylish casual suits An had ever seen on guys, was Kirihara Akaya. Of course he was the other model for Nylon Japan. And of course he had the gall to look damn well good in his clothes.
It made sense, in an annoying way. Nylon always chose the hottest new celebrities who popular among the youth to model for their covers, and Kirihara was making waves with his new album, thanks to his numerous collaborations with a lot of popular artists from around the world. Not to mention the variety show that he co-hosted with one of the prettiest actresses in the world, which made him almost omnipresent in the entertainment industry, with his pretty face. It didn’t mean she had to like it though, not after their awkward meeting last time.
“Oh, it’s you.” An said, sighing exasperatedly before she could stop the words escaping from her mouth. She quickly bowed to him, politely but formally, and he reciprocated, eyebrow raised in amusement. She had half a mind to run a hand through her hair, under his intense gaze, but she was also pretty sure that the stylist would stab her in the eyeball with the hair straighteners if An did anything of the sort. “Let’s just get this over with, Kirihara-san.”
Kirihara looked at her for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes, that for a moment, almost looked hurt, before he just rolled his eyes, cocky and haughty, the fabric stretching over his shoulders with a little too much grace for An’s liking. “Yeah, yeah, sooner this is over, sooner I can go leave.”
The photographer shot a despairing look at An, and An bowed apologetically back at them, before the whole team started to pose her and Kirihara. Regardless of their personal hang-ups, An and Kirihara were both very good at their jobs, that much was clear by the way that Kirihara effortlessly angled himself to hit the camera, with just the right expression to make him desirable. An wasn’t sure if she was doing the same, but the photographer had approximately zero complaints for her, same as Kirihara, which had to mean something about her prowess.
The lights were hot, and her makeup was just starting to reach the point of uncomfortable, as the photographers demanded they get a little closer together, using the weird props around them, to balance upon. He propped his elbow on her shoulder and she leant back against his chest, in a manner that would look intimate on camera, but was actually just very uncomfortable, especially with An trying her best to not let her bodyweight actually fall against Kirihara. Slight muscles showing through his suit jacket or not, she didn’t particular trust him to not let her fall. Her thighs were fairly strong from hours in dance studio, but this pose was difficult to hold while still looking effortless.
They did another few shots like that, where Kirihara’s hands were all over her, and she tried to pretend that she was aloof to them, until the photographer exhaled and shook his head. “And we were doing so well. Take a break, then come back and pretend that you’re not awkward with each other long enough for me to get a good group shot for the front page, please?”
An exhaled and shook back her curled hair, hand going to her fringe which was not clipped back with cute hairclips for once, but braided up, to look more sophisticated. She was tired already, and she wanted this photoshoot to be over. And apparently that meant she had to try and pretend to like Kirihara without giving him any ideas. Accepting a cup of tea from Kame-san in the corner, An bit down on the straw, contemplatively.
“Kame-san, was it okay?” she asked, tugging at the tight dress she was wearing, feeling self-conscious under the gaze of her strict manager, suddenly.
Kame-san looked up from her phone, like it was a huge burden, but noticed the look in An’s eyes and exhaled, heavily. “You’re tense today. Relax a little. Pretend you’re on stage; go boneless like you usually do.”
An looked down. “But....” she said, not really sure what she was protesting, in all honesty. Her gaze slid over to where Kirihara had flopped to the floor, where his manager was fussing over his tie, rolling his eyes with smooth subtle motions. They seemed very close, and An felt a small twinge of jealousy, for a moment. Kame-san was very down-to-earth and knew everything, but she wasn’t exactly close with any of the three of them.
Kame-san turned to look over at Kirihara as well, and her eyes sparked with recognition. “The kid that spilled coffee all over you? The famous cello player that we had to do a PR cover-up for? What’s the matter? You don’t actually like him, do you?” Kame-san sounded very worried for a moment and An was quick to shake her head, and deny it, loudly.
“No, no! It’s the opposite problem actually.” An said, pulling a face. “He’s obnoxious, but I have to pretend to like him.”
“Oh trust me, that’s much easier than the opposite.” Kame-san said, instantly relaxing back into her chair, not even looking in the slightest bit concerned. “Just pretend that he’s someone hot that you like, and flop all over him. That’s what they’re looking for anyway.” Seeing An’s skeptical look, Kame-san rolled her eyes. “Alright, then just go and talk to him, then. Find something about him that’s bearable and focus on that for the rest of the shoot.”
“But...”
“But nothing. Stop angsting, otherwise I’ll be the one to get in trouble for your face having wrinkles.” Kame-san snapped, returning to her phone, making it quite clear that the conversation was over. Some use her manager was.
Violently finishing her tea, An dumped it into the bin and shook her hair back again, as she stepped out onto the floor, where Kirihara was waiting, a bored look on his face as he absently kicked one of the props, as the photographers adjusted the lighting. “Curly hair’s such a pain.” she said, tucking it behind her ear, with a little annoyance, “No idea how you deal with it, normally.”
Kirihara looked up, raising an eyebrow. “It’s my natural hair. You get used to it.”
“Natural? No way. Are you like half-foreign or something?” An asked, making her voice more high-pitched and cute. An-chan was much better at dealing with annoying people than Tachibana An ever would be and she did want to make a bit of peace.
Kirihara snorted, softly and started outright laughing, which drew attention to them. An felt like she would be more okay with this if she knew exactly why he was laughing, Instead, she was left feeling increasingly awkward and annoyed. “God, you really can’t act. Good thing you aren’t on some drama or something.” he said, finally, inbetween obnoxious peals of laughter.
And she’d been trying to be polite too. Seeing red for a moment, she scowled and rolled her eyes. “Well excuse for trying. It’s not easy to deal with dicks in human form.”
Kirihara laughed, even more, though this time was incredulous. “Well, you’re a piece of work, darling.”
An raised an eyebrow, with cool contempt. “Nobody calls me darling. If you say that again, pretty jacket or not, I’ll punch you right here.” Pretty sure that someone would stop her before something happened, but of course, the threat was the most important thing; that was what Akira had taught her.
He snorted, cheeks going slightly red, whether from anger or embarrassment, An wasn’t sure. “I’d like to see you try. You couldn’t even reach my face, midget.”
Before An could retort with something else cutting, the photographer returned, and scowled at them. “Focus please, let’s get this done quickly.”
Somehow, it became easier to place her arms around Kirihara’s neck, tightening to an almost unreasonable level of pressure, while smiling beatifically. Kirihara still managed to smile through it, and his revenge was to pull her very very close and squeeze her waist, like that corset she’d worn for some promo pictures previously. Unwilling to give in even one smidgen, An didn’t let her face change at all. When he pulled her into a backhug, her response after the picture was to immediately stamp on his foot with the base of her heel, and the sharp, pained exhale of breath against her blonde hair was like the biggest admittance of victory ever. Until he breathed into her ear, “Your voice is so grating that even violins would cry of despair.”
She squawked unhappily, turning around to whack him, hard, with indignation. “Kirihara-san!” she said, outraged, and the photographer sighed.
“I should have known it was too good to last. Whatever, we got some nice shots, you two are free to go.” said the photographer, lazily waving them away.
An elbowed Kirihara, hard, straight to the gut, before stalking over to her manager, with a scowl. Kame-san cut off An’s ranting before it could start, by gripping her shoulder and pulling An from the room, not even looking up from her phone. God, An was fucking furious and her manager didn’t even have the decency to let An vent.
Turning around, to shoot one last glance at Kirihara, whose manager was verbally berating him for something, An scowled and vowed to call her brother when she got home. She would need the little bubble of peace that Kippei always managed to give her.
(X)
At this point, An was starting to think that some higher deity hated her or something. Miserably, she stared down at the seating chart for the fashion show week, which she and Tomo were attending, while Sakuno filmed her solo MV. Sakuno deserved it, of course, garnering over half their fans by her pure and innocent image, and her beautiful haunting voice, but it still didn’t mean that An wasn’t a little bitter about not being able to go for the solo first, despite being the eldest.
“Tomo,” asked An, staring at the sheet with a little despair, “Can we please switch?”
“Seats?” asked Tomo, pushing up to her tiptoes to see the seating chart. “Why?”
“Have to sit next to that dick, Kirihara, again. I can’t do it, Tomo.” An said, pulling a pathetic face. Tomo and Sakuno were closer to each other than they were to An, being the same age and very compatible, but they were still each other’s’ support systems and told each other everything, including enemies and crushes. Tomo had been first-hand witness to An’s rant about Kirihara, the moment she’d come home from the Nylon shoot, and had been a devious enabler of An’s circular ranting, by plying her with cheap sake.
Tomo hummed, uncertainly, her small hand comfortingly on An’s shoulder as a balance. “I would, but Yukimura Seiichi is sitting on the other side of me, and there’s no way I’m passing up conversation with him. You don’t really like his designs, but I think I might be in love with his paintings.”
An made a noise of betrayal and gaped at Tomo, shaking off Tomo’s grip so she could lean forward to back Tomo against the wall. “Tomo! Your thirst shouldn’t be outweighing my comfort. Chicks before dicks! Please? I’ll cover for your midnight bubble tea runs for a whole month, if we can switch.”
Tomo’s red lips twitched together, looking honestly torn, hands fisting in her adorable chiffon dress. “An-chan-senpai, please? I think I really like him. And I’m his type; he said so in an interview once. Can’t you just ignore Kirihara-san? Or you could find Shiba-san and try to switch with her...?”
An groaned. Shiba was their reporter friend, well known and very friendly to them, despite their relatively new appearance on the entertainment scene. The problem with going to see Shiba and trying to switch with her was that Shiba sat right at the back, which meant less camera attention on her beautiful face, but the main problem was that Shiba would definitely not switch, because she was convinced that An and Kirihara were friends.
Their cover pictures had looked just a bit too friendly, despite both of them having wanted to murder each other at the time, and it had sparked a whole bunch of internet comments shipping them, especially since the PR fiasco with Kirihara spilling coffee all over her, had managed to hit the forums at the same time. Luckily, she’d not been asked about Kirihara in any official interviews, but she knew that there were already people on the internet who shipped them a bit, if only for ‘aesthetics’, if their flooded twitter account was any indication. Still, their company had refused to address the rumours, fearing that denying anything would just fuel rumours further, something for which An was grateful. Shiba, despite An’s protests, seemed to firmly believe that they had some sort of chemistry and would definitely not switch with her if she asked.
“I hate you, Tomo. Watch if I cover for your makeout sessions with Sakuno ever again.” An sulked, crossing her arms across her chest, with a huff.
Tomo blinked, for a moment, before shaking her head, frantically. “We don’t makeout! Sakuno’s way too prude and scared for that....”
Deciding to ignore the fact that Tomo had basically admitted how much she would have very much wanted to do that, An turned on her heel and walked away, running her hand through her hair, absently. Although her stylist had wanted her to stay with blonde, especially since it had been a big hit with the fans, An had begged her to dye it into a deeper black, to contrast with her natural brown. Her stylist had agreed, but it also meant that An had to wear slightly thicker makeup, with smoky eyes and dark lipstick which itched a bit against her sensitive skin, but looked great for the cameras. She’d practically been assaulted with cameras at the red carpet yesterday, for the first arrivals and she was sure that today, she would be even more attention-grabbing.
It would be great, and An would be very happy about all of that if that asshole wasn’t sitting next to her and ruining it. Her fist clenched for a moment, before a very familiar voice floated into her head, echoing a conversation she’d had with him, previously, late at night, when her manager hadn’t been monitoring them. In times like this, you’ve got to be the better person. You’re going to have to interact with him, so why not try to be more civil? Swallow your pride and apologize for your bad reactions, be the better person in this simulation, and if it still doesn’t do anything, that’s when you’re free to hate him. But from what you’ve told me, he’s just annoying, not someone truly to be despised.
He’d always been better than her, An mused, as she tugged at the edges of her hair, taking a seat near the front of the fashion plaza early, waving at some reporters opposite her. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to give Kirihara another chance, but she also knew that there would be serious consequences if they continued to stay at odds. He had a popular variety show, she was someone who needed every contact she could get, if she wanted to persuade her company to give her a solo too, once Sakuno was done promoting, and he was someone she couldn’t afford to have as an enemy.
Besides, she didn’t like the feeling of having to avoid anybody, not when An was usually such a good conversationalist.
“Oh.” Kirihara muttered, as he drew closer to his seat, eyebrows furrowing. He wore something that looked pulled tight around his chest, but flowed loosely elsewhere. It would have looked like a fashion disaster on anyone else, especially in a shade of yellow that looked a little too mustardy to be pleasant, but he pulled it off with surprising grace. It made An feel a little self-conscious about her red shorts, maroon jacket draped over her shoulders and flowy, chiffon shirt, which made her look casually put together. “It’s you.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ignoring the twinge of annoyance and the slight red that threatened to make An lose her temper, she took in a deep breath and shrugged. “It’s me.” she said, swinging her legs in front of her in a steady rhythm. “If you want to switch seats, I don’t care.”
Kirihara scowled and dropped into the chair, without another word, pulling out his phone, to scroll through something. An stared at the lights above the congregating photographers for a little while, before exhaling. It took courage to swallow her pride, more than Kippei would ever account for, she knew, but she had to do it. For the sake of her future. “Look, I’m sorry. I know we got off on a bad note, and it just escalated, but I am sorry.” she said, not looking back towards Kirihara. “That being said, I’m not sorry for being unable to put up with shit.”
Kirihara snorted, and there was a momentary rustling and an exhale, before he spoke again. “I accept your apology, and I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to offend.”
An held her tongue, but somehow she couldn’t really help but want to snark that calling her voice more rusty than a violin, was definitely a comment that was meant to hurt. But she was trying to be good, so asked instead, “Okay. You here for a particular fashion model? Or designer?”
Kirihara nodded, looking a little reluctant. “Yeah, a friend of mine, Jackal, he’s a model for that new fusion designer, Kite Eishirou? I’m out here to support him. You?”
An shrugged, tucking her hands underneath her thighs, not really sure of what she was doing. “Just here because I can. This sort of stuff is more Tomo’s scene than mine, but she didn’t want to go alone, and I didn’t have anything else to do, since Sakuno’s promoting.” She looked around her, eyes landing on the foreign celebrities, laughing loudly from further down the runway seating, “Besides, this way I can get a bit of eye-candy or something.”
Kirihara laughed, and it was surprisingly attractive, when it wasn’t mocking her. “Oh yeah? That’s like half the reason I end up coming here. It’s not really my scene either, but you know, Bros first and everything. Where are your scenes, then?”
Pulling a face, An tilted her head back. This was surprisingly turning into a pretty civil conversation, and she was surprised. “Mmm, I do better in the studio; dance or recording doesn’t matter, because I’m a bit of a workaholic. I like cafés too, and even clubs if I’m in the right mood. But fashion’s not something I obsessively follow; I just like wearing nice things.”
“I feel you.” Kirihara said, nodding easily, black curls bouncing a bit. “I’m a club person myself, though I always end up at lounges instead, because my manager’s got connections there, and he likes to make me squirm inbetween old ladies who want me to play for them, even when I haven’t got my cello on me.” he said, rolling his eyes.
An couldn’t help but grin, in commiseration. “Everyone wants you to break out and demonstrate your skill, even when you’re completely unprepared. I remember I was shopping, and some kids recognized me, and asked me to dance so they could get it on film, when I was wearing like eight-inch heels and jeans.” she said, leaning back a little more comfortably.
“No way?” he asked, with a disbelieving laugh, “Did you do it?”
“Please, like I would embarrass myself like that. I just signed something for them and fled.” An corrected, rueful grin on her face. Tomo had laughed about that incident for ages, and it still made An a little amused to think about.
“Why were you shopping in eight inch heels, anyway? Isn’t that impractical as hell? But I can barely use insoles without feeling weird, so I guess I can’t talk.” Kirihara muttered, pulling a face.
“Insoles?” asked An, with a teasing smile, “You’re so weak, oh my god. Even Sakuno-chan can use insoles, and she’s one of the people with the worst balances I’ve ever seen. Hell, she dances in three-inch wedges. We all do.”
Kirihara shook his head. ‘That’s insane. I don’t understand it. I remember I wore insoles for the day of my first televised performance and almost tripped and broke my cello backstage.” he said, face distant. “I don’t think my manager ever forgave me for scaring him so much. Though he was more concerned about the cello than he was about me, so that was pretty ego-deflating.”
An laughed, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Good cellos are probably worth more than you, anyway.” she said, suppressing the very prominent urge to point out how that ego-deflation hadn’t lasted very long. That was just a little bit too much on the jibing edge for reconciliation. Kippei would be proud of her holding her tongue. “I would have been more worried about the cello too.”
“That’s because you’re heartless, behind all the giggling you do on TV.” Kirihara drawled, leaning back in his chair.
“Hey, they weren’t marketing me as the nice member, anyway. Sakuno’s the one who’s genuinely sweet and all. I’m the one who gets shit done and looks hot while doing it.” An said, raising an eyebrow. Sakuno was pretty and wonderful, and An still didn’t know how Sakuno managed to stay eternally nice and unable to hurt people ever, not when An’s cutting tongue and Tomo’s thoughtless words could often scar so deeply, but Sakuno could barely even injure someone with her most damning insult.
“Won’t disagree there.” Kirihara said, significantly and An’s mouth twitched, with a little more amusement, at the compliment. A way of smoothing over their conflicts, she supposed. “Though I would think that you would at least attempt to be polite.”
“I think we moved out of the range of formality once you spilled coffee all over me.” An said, with a shrug, as Tomo took a seat next to her, already in deep conversation with Yukimura Seiichi, and another taller man with perfectly ash-blond hair. “I’m only polite to people who’re polite to me.”
After a couple of moments of contemplation, Kirihara nodded. “Yeah, makes sense, I guess.” he said, and they lapsed back into silence for a moment, as An turned over to where Tomo was currently laughing at something Yukimura was saying, hand on his knee. Feeling slightly amused, An adjusted herself properly back on her chair.
“Hey, isn’t that your song over the PA?” asked Kirihara, looking upwards, suddenly and An blinked in surprise.
She closed her eyes and listened, and sure enough, the familiar pulsing beat of one of the songs that An had helped produce for a b-side track was being blasted over as waiting music for the fashion show. Slowly, she felt a grin spread over her face. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, and one of the b-side stuff too. Wow. That’s so weird.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you ever get over the sensation of hearing some of your shit on the radio. I walked into this perfume shop the other day, and one of my collabs was playing there and that was super awkward.” Kirihara said, cheerily, and damn, if his smile wasn’t cute when he wasn’t being obnoxious. She could almost see his appeal, when he wasn’t talking much.
“There’s that too,” An acknowledged, leaning forward, placing her chin in her hand, “But I was actually talking about the fact that you recognized one of my lesser-known tracks instantly. Before I did. And I produced the damn thing.” Kirihara’s expression looked cautiously caged, and An smirked, small and soft. “You also called me Tachibana-san when we first met, and I barely ever talk about my real name on interviews.”
His face looked very closed off and An smiled mockingly-sweet. “It’s alright if you’re a fan and all, you know. I’m very popular.”
“Please, everyone knows that the hottest member of Kaleidoscope is Tomo.” said Kirihara, rolling his eyes, but the tips of his ears were slightly red and his tongue kept running over his bottom lip as he spoke.
An just grinned, with sly amusement. “But you don’t know her full name.”
Kirihara exhaled and now, she could almost see the tinge of pink across his cheeks. “God, shut up.” he said, but he sounded more embarrassed than annoyed, and An laughed, sweetly.
“Alright, alright, I’ll leave it be. But you know. If you ever want an autograph.” she teased, one final time, leaning forward, almost suggestively.
He shoved her side, with annoyance and he laughed again, drawing the attention of the trio next to them, who looked very amused. Tomo especially, grinned lecherously, sticking out her tongue in one slow languid motion. An rolled her eyes and jabbed Tomo’s ankle with her foot, as the music dimmed and the show started, feeling a lot happier.
Go To Part II