pslplz | Futureverse

"You'll find out."

Akaya doesn't keep many secrets, but sometimes you have to have an element of surprise, right?

"So what's going on with you and Hokuto?"

Nosy as always.

"Anticipation is half the fun, they say."

That may well depend on the person, though.

"Then why don't you gimme a preview?" he says with a grin.

Nothing salacious, really! Just a little something to tide him over.

"What a good policy-- I think we girls should do the same! You can be surprised with what we show up in. And hope it doesn't make you stick out in the bad way."

She peeks her head out from behind the curtain to address the question.

"As far as what we're up to, that's quite a question when even so much as whether you've found your outfit for tour is too much to divulge!"

"What are you suggesting?" He asks through a quiet laugh that's torn between amusement and slight discomfort. Nothing against getting more intimate, but this is still a restaurant! It's just not the place for hickies and hand jobs.

Oh, he hears that amusement in Yuki's voice. Admit it, you're more adventurous than you think you are.

"Nothing," he says coyly. But he leans in just enough to nuzzle his ear.

He smirks. Akaya won't ever stick out in a bad way, of this he is certain. And though he might not say so now, he's equally certain that his bandmates are capable of looking almost as good.

"Hey, my outfit is a benign subject. But you and Hokuto...of course that's my concern. Wouldn't wanna read about your mad drama in the gossip columns. I'd rather hear about it from you."

He's only half serious, mostly because he's pretty sure they get along well enough.

"Do you even read the gossip columns?" Nami asked incredulously with a flip of the curtain back closed to finish changing. "Maybe one day we'll have a massive teary break-up between sets in Nagasaki and smash our instruments in a fit of rage."

Sure it's nothing. As Akaya nuzzles his ear, Yuki's hand glides up to his wrist and takes it in a gentle but firm clasp. And he turns his head just enough to put his mouth by Akaya's ear for a whisper.

"That's the opposite of what I'm going to do to you later..."

He laughs, letting him hold onto his wrist without a struggle.

"Hurry up and order, then."

'Later' is a relative term, after all. It doesn't have be that long.

He scoffs.

"Yeah, right."

Akaya doesn't believe that for a second. Nami might be dramatical if she feels like it, but destroy her own thousand dollar instrument out of spite? Not a chance.

"Look who's talking," Yuki teases back. "Have you even spared two glances at the menu?"

Don't think he'll be leaving until he sees you eat real food. He knows better than anyone the crazy schedules of a music idol. One can only go so long subsisting on energy drinks and snacks.

Akaya is perfectly right, of course. Nami never intended the threat to be believed.

"Wasn't that a thing a few centuries ago? Early metal bands destroying their instruments on stage as part of the show?" What a waste!

"How would I know?" Seriously. Akaya doesn't look backward. Of course, he knows his musical history, but only the kind that suits him. Idiots who smash their instruments for show clearly don't care about the craft.

(Though getting angry enough to destroy shit is something he could probably relate to ........)

"Use your drama to write songs about each other. It's more productive," he says with a smirk.

He shrugs.

"I already know what I want."

Take that how you like. It's true, either way.

Yuki doesn't miss the innuendo, but responds with a calm smile and sip of his water.

"That's good to hear. I can't accept leaving until I've seen you eat a real meal."

"Really? So if I write a passionate love song you'll sing it?" Most of the 'drama' between her and Hokuto was facetious, after all. They weren't a perfect couple (who was?) but Nami felt their relationship was solid. She was comfortable in it, a feeling she might not have guessed herself capable of ten years ago.

Frankly, if Akaya was looking for songs about love drama he'd find better inspiration in his own history, but Nami kept mum on that point. There were some subjects you just didn't broach even while teasing. Maybe especially while teasing.

"Sure," he says, grinning widely. Passion he knows a thing or two about, after all. It's okay if the lyrics are meant for someone else. He can make it his own. He's not all that picky.

And it's true, he's got quite a history of messy relationships to draw inspiration from. He might have written a song or two about Yuki. Some of them he keeps locked up in his notebook, though.

"What's the latest drama? I want the inside scoop."

"Pfft. Still acting like the captain. Fine, fine."

Akaya waves the waiter over with an impatient gesture and informs him of his order. Green curry with saffron rice, something pickled, and a beer. And he'll sit back making eyes at Yukimura until he's done ordering and they can hurry through this formality of dinner.

Christ on a pogo stick. Leave it to him to leave something as critical as his wearable all the way back at the damn set and not even realize it until he was comfortably lounging in his apartment. Spend a long day at work, get caught up in a tornado of conversations with Mari, the actor he doubled for, Ouka, the cameraman, and half a dozen others afterward before food pulled his stomach away for food and left his brain behind. There's a saying about being so absent-minded a person would forget his head if it weren't bolted to his neck. For most people it's an amusing hyperbole. Rasu sometimes wonders if it would really be hyperbolic for him.

He hops off the rail system at the nearest stop two blocks away and breaks into a light run. Mizuki is always there late-- how late, Rasu doesn't know, but the man's a bit of a workaholic. Well. Highly dedicated. And understandably more invested in the final product than a stunt man whose name is but a blip in a screed of names that follow the stars and heads of the production crew. In a way, Rasu can even understand the long hours the director puts in: Mizuki has a passion for the work he does. It wasn't so difficult to dedicate yourself 110% when it was something you were passionate about. Rasu knows that intimately well.

The studio signs reflect blue neon onto the sidewalk in the distance. One block down, one to go. He just hopes he isn't too late to catch Mizuki and his retina access.

Of course he works late. It's his name on the final product, after all. And Mizuki is not known for anything short of perfection. His pride wouldn't allow it. He's not a micro-manager, really. He just likes things the way he wants it. Most of the time, that means overseeing even the tiniest detail. Special effects, for example, isn't his forte, but a mistake in that department could be the one thing everyone talks about at the end of it, instead of the grander picture. So he's at the studio tonight, watching and rewatching the edits to make sure that he hasn't missed anything critical.

Meanwhile, most of the staff have gone home, because it's a reasonable hour (for movie makers, anyway) to be at home on a weeknight.

He finally calls it a night at a little past one, and he makes his way to the back exit, waving briefly at the night guard before stepping out into the empty lot outside. The place is quiet, peaceful.

Mizuki adjusts his shoulder bag and starts walking. It happens quite quickly, after that. No warning or anything, just a shadow that suddenly leaps out from behind a camera crane parked on the lot. There's a violent tug against his shoulder strap. Mizuki instinctively grabs it tighter, which turns out to be a mistake.

"Gimme your money!" the gruff voice bellows angrily. Really! As if he had a right to anything at all! Mizuki isn't sure if it's a yelp or a huff that comes out of his mouth then, as he's so filled with fear and indignation at once.

He should just let the bag go. It's really not worth his life -- but it contains all his hard work -- he can't. The guy rips it off him with such force that Mizuki goes flying to the ground. He feels the pavement scrape hotly on his palms.

At the time Rasu sees it, he can't really tell who it is that's just been jumped and had their bag yanked away. He just knows someone's getting attacked and it's turning violent, and that's really all he needs to know. For the moment, his wearable is forgotten, and he increases the speed of his run to a bullish charge towards the crime in progress.

"Hey!" He yells. Probably not the smartest move, drawing attention to himself and announcing his presence to the whole street, but the vocalization is out of his mouth without any thought to a consideration like that.

When he feels the impact of the ground rushing hard and fast against him, he sees his life flash before his eyes. It's not like he saw a gun or anything, but hey -- Mizuki isn't the sort of person who deals with such violence on his person day to day! He's only directed simulated violence, and this is completely something else. The guy could pull out a gun or a knife or a phaser and suddenly Mizuki's life could be over. All for a bag and some (long and hard) days of work! What a pathetic end to what could've been an illustrious career!

A voice rings out then, and it floods him with such relief that for a moment he doesn't even recognize who it is.

He turns just in time to see his assailant turn toward the sound and charge. A brawl?? Here on the studio grounds? Unfortunately for Mizuki, he's not directing anyone in this real-life nightmare scenario. All he can do is watch with widening eyes. Surely no one is about to get killed! Right?

He's big, Rasu notices as the brute starts coming at him. Easily bigger than him-- maybe a head taller? And stocky as hell. Doesn't seem out of shape, either, from how he's running. Rasu stands 5'6 with muscle to spare, but he's no rhino. And the dude has something about two feet long and straight in his hand. Pipe? No, baseball bat. Fuck.

Could be worse, he thinks. Could definitely be worse.

They meet at the cusp of a street lamp's beacon, and as the attacker swings the bat, Rasu dives into a roll, tumbles past the man's feet and rises back up to keep running past him in one smooth motion. If it can be helped, it'd be better not to face off against him at all-- Rasu just wants him away from his target.

When he turns around and gives chase, however, Rasu knows that option is not going to happen. He stops running and turns around, placing himself between the attacker and the owner of that bag. His stance shifts, feet comfortably apart for balance with knees slightly bent. And he raises his fists.

"If you can run get out of here!" He calls.

Old habits die hard, they say. Perhaps especially when they come from a place of caring. Satisfied with what Akaya orders, Yuki places his own order for a meal with grilled fish as the entree.

And once the waiter has left with their orders, he sends Akaya a look of feigned exasperation for those distracting eyes. Patience has never been the young man's strong suit, he knows. And he understands sexual desire, so he can't be too upset at the antics. Still, Yuki thinks quietly in the back of his mind: surely Akaya can appreciate spending some time together that isn't between the sheets?

Futureverse

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Not the movies anymore

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