EbiKisu, Itsuka no Yakusoku (Someday’s Promises)

Title: Itsuka no Yakusoku (Someday’s Promises) [Kitayama/Totsuka]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Ebikisu finally get a second series of 12star concerts, six years too late and a million years too soon for Totsuka’s heart.
AN: Written for talisa_ahn for 2014 JE Holiday Exchange. Title from the Yamapi song “Shinkirou” (lyrics below). This turned out like three times as long as I thought and I was really happy with it in the end.

Itsuka no Yakusoku (Someday’s Promises)

言葉にしたなら全部　こぼれてしまいそうだから
いつかの約束は今も約束のまま
Seems like everything would come pouring out if I put it into words, so
someday’s promises are the same promises even now
—Yamashita Tomohisa, “Shinkirou”

Fumito’s about to call you, Kitayama’s mail reads. Tell him I already told you.

Totsuka is still staring at his phone’s screen in bemusement when it rings, and it is in fact Kawai.

“Tottsu,” Kawai says as soon as Totsuka says hello, voice tight and breathless with excitement. “Tottsu, Tottsu, guess what I just—”

“Hiromitsu already told me,” Totsuka interrupts, willing to play along for the fun of it, smiling to himself when it makes Kawai holler that Kitayama is son of a bitch. Totsuka spends the next five minutes of Kawai’s rambling trying to puzzle out what really is going on, which is a challenge with any of his bandmates when you don’t have a starting point.

“And Tsuka-chan is having a crisis, because there’s Darkness right? But Ken-chan’s been a girl on their office thing lately so now he wants—” Kawai is going on when the lightbulb finally clicks on.

“Joint concerts?” Totsuka interrupts. “Really? They’re really going to let us do 12stars, really?”

“YES,” Kawai snaps in exasperation. “That’s what I’ve been SAYING for the last…hey, you said you already knew!”

Totsuka chuckles an apology but it probably doesn’t sound very sincere since his own chest is starting to butterfly with excitement. After all this time, he’d started believing it would never happen no matter how hard they all lobbied for it. But like most of his wishes, just when Totsuka is sure it can’t come true, suddenly that’s what happens.

The first meeting with all twelve of them is a lot of shoving and pent-up energy while their managers roll their eyes. Fujigaya wants to know what changed their labels’ minds.

“Magic,” Hashimoto says smugly, laughing when Tsukada and Kawai grab him and rough up his hair in thanks. Fujigaya and Yokoo exchange a look that says spoiling the baby like that never leads to anything good.

“Heyyy, I want attention too!” Senga whines at Tsukada, pushing himself under Tsukada’s other arm until his hair gets scrunched too, regressing five years in thirty seconds when he can roughhouse with his Butoukan older brother. Nikaido whines and tugs jealously at Senga’s shoulder until Tsukada grabs him in a headlock too, practically knocking their heads together in the process.

Eventually they calm down a little, enough to bullshit combination ideas with each other, since that’s all shouting and idiot ideas anyway. In the midst of the insanity, Kitayama leans across the table to grin at Totsuka.

“We’re gonna sing together,” he says, sort of asking and sort of not. “Right?”

“Of course,” Totsuka answers. “Are you asking me if I keep my promises, Kitayama Hiromitsu?”

“Never,” Kitayama reassures, grin turning into a smaller smile, one that Totsuka remembers well. “Just reminding, since it’s been so long.”

“It hasn’t even felt like five minutes,” Totsuka bluffs, making Kitayama chuckle quietly. Fujigaya elbows him and asks if he’s paying attention or what, interrupting them, and Totsuka turns his attention back to the meeting, where Miyata is declaring that he will definitely save Princess Tama from the Tsukadragon, and at least two of their managers are rubbing their temples with their fingertips.

Totsuka has not at all forgotten his promise to sing with Kitayama, made just after the last concert when they had joint work. They had been curled up in bed, Totsuka feeling too keyed up to sleep ever again and Kitayama yawning and clinging from fading concert adrenaline. Totsuka had told Kitayama he had to write the lyrics, making Kitayama whine against his neck. “Shush, I’ll do it next time.”

It had seemed like they had so many next times left in them back then, Totsuka hadn’t at all thought that his promise would have to extend across six years. But he had meant it when he made it and still means it now, so it’s fine, he thinks.

Soon enough their meetings turn into rehearsals, even if they have to be staggered between Hashimoto’s stage show and Nikaido and Yokoo’s play wrapping up. Fujigaya forces his manager to turn down a drama offer that would start filming before their shows are done, and that’s when Totsuka knows for sure that they are really going to do this, so he had better get serious.

“What kind of thing?” he asks Kitayama during a lunch break. He’s brought his guitar along in case inspiration strikes suddenly, strumming it idly while Kitayama inhales rice like he’s afraid there might be a shortage.

“Mmmm,” Kitayama says thoughtfully while he chews, knowing without asking what Totsuka is talking about. But even when he swallows, he’s no help. “Anything you want.”

“Fast? Slow? Rock? Sexy? Enka ballad?” Totsuka keeps prompting, but Kitayama keeps saying whatever is fine. “Honestly, Hiromitsu. A little help?”

“I trust you,” Kitayama says, looking Totsuka right in the eye, and simple but honest Kitayama has always been the Kitayama who made Totsuka do the stupidest stuff. After Kitayama heads out to make sure Tamamori and Miyata are actually practicing, patting Totsuka’s head in goodbye, Totsuka leans his head back against the couch and stares at the ceiling, strumming chords on his guitar in rhythm with his skipping heart.

“What’s that?” Hashimoto asks when he and Kawai come in fifteen minutes later, more ruffled and sweated from break horseplay than they ever get from actual practice. Hashimoto tilts his head to listen more closely to what Totsuka is playing. “That’s nice. What is it? I like it!”

Totsuka heaves a sigh and tells the ceiling, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

A shadow falls over him, and when he tilts his head up a little, Kawai is peering down at him, eyes narrowed in concern.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you gonna actually be okay with this?”

“With what?” Hashimoto leans in against Kawai’s side to look at Totsuka’s face too.

“The concerts,” Kawai answers him distractedly.

“I’m fine,” Totsuka says, closing his eyes. He’s had enough of people looking into them deeply today.

“Why wouldn’t he be okay?” Hashimoto pesters. “Totsuka loves concerts and we’re finally—”

“You should remember last time well enough to know exactly why not,” Kawai cuts in sharply, much sharper than he usually speaks to Hashimoto, and Totsuka winces. More gently, Kawai adds. “Go away a bit, okay? We’ll be out to stretch in a couple minutes.”

Totsuka hears the sound of the door opening and closing softly, and then feels the couch shift as Kawai sits down beside him. When Totsuka opens his eyes, Kawai’s gaze is gentle and apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I should have noticed before,” he says. “I was too excited, and I thought enough time had gone by. Stupid, huh? Tottsu’s heart doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Totsuka murmurs. “We should told have told Ryosuke the whole story ages ago anyway.”

“I’m not sorry about him, idiot.” Kawai rolls his eyes. “This duet with Kitamitsu, don’t do it.”

“I promised, though,” Totsuka says.

“Yeah, well he promised you all kinds of stuff and—”

“He really didn’t,” Totsuka interrupts. He knows Kawai means well and is trying to show his loyalty, but it’s not the kind of comfort that Totsuka wants. “It’s okay, really. It’ll be good for the show, and maybe it’ll be good for us too. Maybe enough time’s gone by after all.”

“I don’t want 2010 Tottsu back,” Kawai says, fiercely enough that it makes Totsuka blink. “I want this year’s Tottsu who loves us and his job and himself, and I won’t give him up for any stupid concerts, even these!”

Kawai’s words cut through Totsuka’s mood, and he sets the guitar aside so that Kawai can hug him tightly. The hug is more for Kawai than himself, but Totsuka needs it more than he realized, and he murmurs a thank you into Kawai’s hair. Afterwards he feels much more like he can go out to practice and keep on being 2014’s Totsuka. There are so many happy things to focus on when they’re all together, after all. Old hurts don’t seem so important when he can hear Kawai and Fujigaya cracking up together and see Hashimoto’s eyes pop wide when Miyata hits high notes on the first try.

He even keeps the start of the song. Hashimoto’s right, it is good, and it’s about the two of them, which Totsuka has the feeling is exactly what Kitayama wants. When Totsuka agrees to play it for Kitayama, the timing is a little close, but Kitayama’s had six years to work on the lyrics after all, so Totsuka doesn’t think he’ll need that much more time. Sitting on Kitayama’s squashy couch and playing their song for Kitayama, Totsuka doesn’t feel nervous at all like he’d expected to.

It feels comfortable, and Totsuka wonders if that isn’t maybe the most dangerous part of all.

“I already have the words,” Kitayama admits when Totsuka is finished, sheepishly holding out his notebook.

“How did you know what kind of thing it would be?” Totsuka asks just to ask as he looks it over. They’ll have to change some things, of course, to make it fit Totsuka’s timing, but it’s pretty good even the way it is.

“I knew,” Kitayama says. When Totsuka looks up from the lined pages, Kitayama is looking to the side rather than directly at Totsuka, unusually evasive. “I’ll write other ones if you don’t want to sing those in front of people. They’re for you, so even if only you ever see them, it’s fine.”

Totsuka reads through Kitayama’s words several times slowly, wanting to be sure before he answers. He can read their whole story in them, since he already knows it, how bad their timing always was even though they were so good together, how it would be even better now if they didn’t both know what a terrible idea trying again would be. It should be melancholy, but with Kitayama’s deft touch it’s almost hopeful, like it’s enough to know how it could be between them even if it never is. Combined with Totsuka’s composition, it’ll be sweet, heartfelt.

It’s going to make every girl in Dome cry and they’ll have to send out Tamamori, Fujigaya, and Hashimoto out to do a striptease if they want to gain any of their concert tension back.

“It’s perfect,” Totsuka says, putting down the pages. “You’ve improved.”

“Thanks. I had a promise to live up to.” Kitayama finally raises his eyes to meet Totsuka’s. “But I won’t hold you to yours if you don’t want to tell every fangirl in Tokyo your business. Really.”

“Hiromitsu,” Totsuka says fondly. “It’s adorable how you think every fangirl internationally doesn’t already know all our business. Don’t you know what the internet is for?”

“Shut up, shut up,” Kitayama grouses, mouth quirking up at the corners. He digs a pen out of the clutter on his coffee table and they spend an hour making the words fit in with the melody, arguing over kanji and English and who has to hit the high note in the bridge. When they sing together, their voices have a harmony to them already that Totsuka will never be able to capture in ink-rounded circles.

When they’re finished enough that they can bring it to practice tomorrow, Totsuka asks, “What’s it called?”

“Daydream,” Kitayama says right away.

“Yes,” Totsuka agrees. “It is, rather.”

Somehow it becomes the week of the first concerts, the days slipping through Totsuka’s fingers like it’s made of the same fabric as their slick, feathered suits. There’s so much still to do and remember, but a lot of times Totsuka likes this part best, breathless to see how it will all turn out somehow right in the end, like it always does. He loves the way they all grow closer during this part too, marveling that between the twelve of them there are still any spaces between them that could be crossed. But it’s been years, after all, and if Totsuka’s had all that time to get used to the adult that Hashimoto has become, certainly Ft2 surprises him all the more with how far they’ve come.

“Ah, sorry!” Senga says when Kawai asks if ABC Jr wants to go out after dress rehearsal, senpai’s treat. “We already promised Snow Man and some other guys to go out. We’re senpai too, you know!”

“Tcht, I didn’t know I’d have to put in reservations weeks in advance,” Kawai tsks, but Senga only laughs at his pout. Kawai turns to Totsuka with a long-suffering sigh. “I think we trained them too well.”

“We really did,” Totsuka answers, amused. “Especially this one. We taught him all our best moves and now he choreographs shit we can’t even do.”

“I know, right!” Kawai crows, making Senga beam with pride. “Ah, come on, we’ll have to collect the old men for our dinner party. Natto Lovers Club to the rescue!” Senga laughs even harder when Totsuka protests that nobody is going to want to be rescued by that club at all.

Ah, but the members are maybe worth having, Totsuka thinks, squished into the corner of a booth, Kitayama’s thigh warm against his as he watches Yokoo and Kitayama battle over who can eat the most extra ramen noodles. Fujigaya has had at least two beers too many and is giggling at everything while he feeds Yokoo bits of his own food, and on his other side Kawai is passing Goseki’s favorites across the table much more sedately. Tsukada defected to joining the younger group, that traitor, but he wouldn’t have fit in the booth anyway so Totsuka supposes they can forgive him.

“To Tottsu!” Fujigaya toasts when the next round comes. “Because he saved me from doing yet another embarrassing love duet with this idiot.”

“Our love duet isn’t embarrassing at all,” Kitayama announces, perhaps a beer or two past good sense himself. “So in point of fact, it must be you who makes them embarrassing!” Fujigaya splutters out a couple insults, underscored by Kawai’s cackling, and Kitayama makes kissy faces at him.

“Yeah, there’s nothing embarrassing about you idiots at all,” Yokoo says, nudging Fujigaya with his elbow when other patrons start looking over to see what the fuss is about. Fujigaya shoves a gyoza in his mouth to shut him up, and Goseki tells them to just make out already, geez.

When the others are getting up, shoving and tugging on coats, Kitayama is still blocking Totsuka’s exit, looking at the pair of chopsticks he’s twiddling between his fingers.

“Hiromitsu?” Totsuka asks. Instead of answering, Kitayama leans in and kisses Totsuka’s cheek, firm and lingering, and by the time Totsuka can get his eyes open again, Kitayama is already out of the booth, busy arguing with Goseki about paying for these brats on his own again instead of just the brats in his own unit.

“Are you coming?” Kawai calls over his shoulder when he notices Totsuka sitting down. Totsuka shakes his head a little and finally does climb to his feet, wishing it were the alcohol that was making the floor feel not entirely level.

Kawai eyes him closely as Totsuka shuffles over.

“I saw that,” Kawai says. Totsuka colors a little, looking at his coat sleeve like it’s very interesting. “And that!” He heaves an aggravated sigh, like when they get stuck with all the totally untrained juniors every Tokyo concert. “Look, just be happy, okay? Please.”

“I’m trying,” is the most honest answer Totsuka can give.

“But joint concerts are totally permission to have irresponsible sex with your hot ex,” Kawai adds.

Totsuka bursts out laughing. “Fumito!”

“If Ebi had even one ass like that, we’d rule the world,” Kawai sighs wistfully, and Totsuka loves Kawai more fiercely than he loves anything else right at that second, even Kitayama’s ass.

Totsuka actually makes it until the their first show Friday night without doing anything that irresponsible, although the dokkiri he helped Hashimoto play on the Snowmen during the MC probably counts as irresponsible just a little. Watanabe gets back at them by being an extra mean MC afterwards so it all evens out.

“They have such cute crying faces, though,” Totsuka says when Kitayama catches him in the wings and calls him a huge S. “Ah, we’ll have to let them go soon, won’t we? The curse of the talented backers, just when they’re handsome and dependable you aren’t allowed to sing with them anymore.”

Totsuka is barely surprised at all when Kitayama turns him by the shoulder and kisses him again, square on the mouth this time, sweet like Genki’s cute little solo and bright like stage lights. Kitayama slides a hand up to cup Totsuka’s cheeks and leaves it there even when he pulls back.

“Could you quit looking past the really awesome thing we’re doing to the really sad stuff that might come after?” Kitayama asks, and Totsuka can only smile ruefully because they both know he really can’t.

Instead he says, “Fumito says concerts make it okay for me to have irresponsible sex with your incredibly hot ass.”

“If you were trying to make that offer unappealing by mentioning Kawai, you failed,” Kitayama says, stroking at Totsuka’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Will you really come home with me?”

“Ask and find out,” Totsuka tells him, giving up and letting the hope in his chest spread thin fingers out all over his skin. It’ll hurt like a son of a bitch when he has to peel them all off again, but he’d really like to follow Kitayama’s advice and focus on now rather than later.

Kitayama doesn’t ask, just kisses Totsuka again, this time nothing like Genki’s solo and everything like Yasui’s. With maybe a Hokuto and a Jinguji thrown in. By the time it’s done, Totsuka’s heart is racing and his skin is fire, and the answer is yes a hundred times over.

“THERE you are!” Tamamori interrupts them, obviously annoyed at the task of finding them. “Here’s your tour T-shirts and your skates,” he shoves them into Kitayama’s hands, “and hurry it up because encore’s in like thirty seconds!” Over his shoulder, Miyata is laughing at them, and he only laughs harder when Kitayama starts cursing and Totsuka’s shirt is stuck in one of Kitayama’s velcro patches.

They tumble on stage as the music is starting, Totsuka still tugging his tour shirt down and Kitayama still shoving on his skates, and he can’t help but think the first at least six rows of fangirls have them entirely figured out. The rest of Dome catches on when they realize Kitayama’s lost his mic somewhere and has to share Totsuka’s for all his lines in the first verse. Still high on mischief, Totsuka starts backing up one step at a time, forcing Kitayama to follow, smiling innocently while every fan around them is losing it.

Kitayama’s sharp grin is all the warning Totsuka gets before Kitayama grabs his wrist, plucking the mic out of his hand before throwing Totsuka over his shoulder and skating off with his prize. It’s a wonder they don’t go right off the catwalk and break both their necks since Totsuka is a squirming mess, laughing helplessly against Kitayama’s back and missing all of his lines, but Kitayama’s center of gravity is low and he’s always been sure on his skates. He makes it the whole way to back center stage before Hashimoto and Tsukada form a blockade and demand Kitayama give back their member and go torment his own.

Totsuka’s high lasts easily until Kitayama really does take him home, Totsuka as thankful as he ever used to be for how close Kitayama’s apartment is. Kitayama presses Totsuka against the wall of his genkan to kiss him again, and Totsuka melts into it, clutching the soft leather of Kitayama’s jacket in his hands. Kitayama’s got one hand on Totsuka’s waist and one hand brushing through his hair. They took showers at the venue to get rid of the worst of the makeup and hair product, and Totsuka is glad of it now because Kitayama’s fingers have no trouble reaching Totsuka’s scalp.

“Will you grow this stuff back out already,” Kitayama growls against Totsuka’s mouth, tugging at the short, spiked strands to make his point, and Totsuka can only shake with laughter and want. Kitayama must be at least as desperate, since he’s already tugging at both of their clothes, a task he usually leaves to whoever else.

“Show me this fancy new bed you bought,” Totsuka pulls away to say, knowing if they don’t make it there now they might not ever, and fucking on a hardwood floor does not a fun Saturday concert make.

“If you hate it, blame Miyacchi,” Kitayama says, setting Totsuka back off into giggles again.

Kitayama is still stripping off their clothes as they go, Totsuka sighing quietly at the skim of Kitayama’s fingers over his sides as Kitayama tugs his shirt off, the way Kitayama only shoves Totsuka’s jeans far enough down his hips to grab them. Kitayama is just as warm as Totsuka’s remembers, his skin smelling just as good when Totsuka presses his face against it to lick at Kitayama’s collarbones. Totsuka feels dizzy with all the things he wants at once, Kitayama’s weight over top of him and his mouth wrapped around Kitayama’s length and Kitayama’s arms wrapped around him from behind while he pounds into Totsuka.

When he reaches down to unzip Kitayama’s jeans, Kitayama’s cock is so hard it’s practically pulling up against his stomach already, and Totsuka wonders if either one of them is going to last long enough to do anything they want to. He strokes Kitayama, marveling at how hard Kitayama against his fingers, and Kitayama squeezes him tightly in a sudden hug, breathing ragged.

“I missed you,” he says against Totsuka’s hair. He strokes his palm from Totsuka’s neck all the way down his spine, as if spanning all the parts he’s been missing. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“Shh, shut up about that,” Totsuka tells him, squeezing his cock again and smiling at Kitayama’s groan. So loud already. “You can have any part of me you want.”

“I want all of them,” Kitayama says fiercely, and he kisses Totsuka again before Totsuka can answer. He seems like he means it too, since his mouth starts roaming almost immediately, down Totsuka’s jaw and behind his ear, past the hollow of his throat to lick at one nipple and then the other. By the time Kitayama really does shove Totsuka down onto his bed, Totsuka’s knees can barely hold him up. With Totsuka all spread out for him, what little skin he doesn’t get his mouth on is well-mapped by Kitayama’s fingers, skimming along the small of Totsuka’s back and the backs of his thighs, down the insides of his arms to tangle Totsuka’s fingers with his own.

Afraid he might go out of his mind any second, Totsuka squirms out of Kitayama’s grip to push him onto his back, determined to get at least one of his wishes. Kitayama moans Totsuka’s name desperately when Totsuka licks the salt from the tip of Kitayama’s cock, wrapping his hand around the base of it to stroke. Kitayama is still too big for Totsuka to suck off deeply and Totsuka is still a tease, lapping at all the velvety edges while stroking him off, sucking Kitayama in and out with messy noises that are nearly all for show and making Kitayama a tense, trembling mess underneath him.

“Don’t,” Kitayama says suddenly, sitting up and pushing at Totsuka’s shoulders. He’s flushed all down his chest, hair sticking up, shaking and desperate and Totsuka would do a million irresponsible things if it meant he could see Kitayama look like this for him again. Totsuka climbs into Kitayama’s lap before hearing what Kitayama actually does want, the kiss almost messier than the blowjob he was giving a second ago, his lips stinging pleasantly.

“Like this?” Totsuka asks, because yeah, like this would be really good.

“For the first thing, sure,” Kitayama answers, making Totsuka laugh at his ambition. Kitayama flails with one hand for the bedside drawer, other still wrapped securely around Totsuka’s waist. Totsuka knows he’ll have to move at least a little if he wants to get fucked really, but he clings for another few seconds, enjoying Kitayama’s mouth against his and the hard muscles of Kitayama’s shoulders under his fingers.

Kitayama pushes at Totsuka a minute later, and when Totsuka doesn’t budge, reminds that he might want to save his thigh strength for the good parts. Chuckling, Totsuka lets himself be pushed onto his back and stretches out leisurely, knowing without looking that Kitayama’s eyes are glued to him. It’s unusually easy to let Kitayama’s fingers in, Totsuka pushing into it until even Kitayama laughs at him.

“Want something, do you?” he teases. Totsuka only pushes down more deliberately, murmuring Kitayama’s name because he knows it drives Kitayama crazy. He keeps on saying it as he pushes Kitayama’s hand away and climbs back into Kitayama’s lap, winds arms around Kitayama’s neck and sinks down onto his cock. It’s too much and perfect at the same time, Totsuka too far gone to wait like he should before starting to move.

“Hiromitsu,” he says against Kitayama’s forehead, just to make him shiver. Kitayama wraps arms tight around Totsuka’s back and presses his face against Totsuka’s neck, and it’s all perfect. “Mmm, Hiromitsu.”

Kitayama’s muffled noises are perfectly audible to Totsuka as he rocks up and down, glad for Senga’s weeks of ero ero choreography boot camp. Kitayama starts helping out soon enough, clever boy, using the bounce of the mattress to slam up into Totsuka every time he rocks down. It’s good but could be so much better, and Totsuka pushes Kitayama back despite how much he likes the clinging, pushes Kitayama down flat so that Totsuka can ride him properly.

“Ohhhh,” Kitayama says in approval when Totsuka rolls his hips in their new position, reaching to slide his hands over Totsuka’s where they’re pressing down on his belly for balance. He circles Totsuka’s wrists with his fingers, then slides his hands up and down Totsuka’s forearms a little, the touch sweet in the middle of the rushed sex and a little possessive, making Totsuka grin down at him.

He warns Totsuka that’s he’s close, small wonder, but Totsuka doesn’t slow even a little. Instead he twists one wrist to grab Kitayama’s hand and guides it to his own cock where it’s rubbing a little sticky patch against Kitayama’s belly. Kitayama’s coordination isn’t legendary at the moment, but just being able to fuck up into Kitayama’s tight fist is enough. Kitayama comes first, tipping his head back with a low moan; Totsuka wraps his hand around Kitayama’s to finish himself off just after, wanting to come while Kitayama is still hard inside him.

He’s still sitting there, balanced despite his shuddering, when Kitayama opens his eyes to blink at him in confusion. “What’re you still doing up there? Come here, stupid.”

Totsuka flops down against Kitayama’s chest right away, and if Kitayama cares that Totsuka is getting his sheets just as messy as the both of them, he doesn’t say anything about it. He kisses Totsuka instead, soothing all of Totsuka’s overworked muscles with passes of his strong, warm hands. When Totsuka shifts, thinking about showing himself out, Kitayama’s hand tightens on his hip and he murmurs for Totsuka to stay.

“Won’t it look awkward if we go in together tomorrow?” Totsuka asks.

“It’ll be a lot more awkward if you limp in there like you weren’t with me,” Kitayama tells him, making Totsuka snort in amusement. “Besides, did you think we were done here? You didn’t see half the stuff my amazing mattress can do. There’s a remote control.”

Totsuka stays, since Kitayama asked so nicely. In the morning, he’s sore all over and everything smells like Kitayama, and Totsuka marvels that he can have two more days of concerts just like this.

The rest of concert weekend is a blur of stage lights and sex for Totsuka, not unwelcomely so. Saturday morning Yokoo and Goseki warn the two of them to keep it off the stage (despite how Nikaido has put the moves on Kenko every single practice and show so far), but for some reason it’s not a problem. It’s like something held tense between them for so long has resolved itself finally, and it’s easy for Totsuka to be on stage with Kitayama and all the rest of them. They don’t have to be attached at the hip; it’s enough for Totsuka to know that Kitayama is on the opposite side catwalk, feeling his presence even when both of them are waving and smiling at fans, counting their uchiwa. And when Kitayama brushes Totsuka’s fingertips with his own as they pass, it fills Totsuka’s chest with more electricity than any confession on center stage ever could.

Plus, they still get to sing together every concert. Amazing though Kitayama’s new mattress might be, the singing is really Totsuka’s very favorite part.

“Weirdo,” Kitayama says with affection, kissing Totsuka’s stomach while Totsuka runs fingers through his hair. “A guy could take offense to that, you know.”

“Tell it to the soccer team,” Totsuka says carelessly, humming when Kitayama’s kisses turn to nips. The scatter of marks across Totsuka’s pale skin fades by morning, but Totsuka can still feel them whenever he finds Kitayama’s eyes on him.

There’s two weeks between the Tokyo shows and the Osaka shows, during which Kitayama and Totsuka don’t meet up at all outside of work. Totsuka assumes that for Kitayama, the fooling around is just a concert thing; it wouldn’t be the first time. He could call Kitayama himself, or even just show up, but Totsuka decides to leave it lay. Just a concert thing is much more forgivable, and anyway there’s only two weeks until the Osaka shows.

“Don’t any of you want single rooms?” one of the managers ask in obvious exasperation when the topic of hotel arrangement comes up and half of them say at once that they want roommates. Nikaido looks ready to get on his knees and beg. “Seriously, you aren’t Koreans.”

“Depends,” Kitayama says. He catches Totsuka’s eye and gives a slow blink. “Do we get to pick our roommates?”

“Dibs!” Nikaido and Miyata both holler. Tamamori gives a showy roll of his eyes, but Senga only laughs and pats Nikaido’s hand where he’s clutching at Senga’s sleeve.

“Hey, that means I can have—oof!” Hashimoto cuts off as Kawai elbows him sharply.

“Be my roommate, hey, Hasshi-tan?” Kawai grins at Hashimoto guilelessly, making Hashimoto blink. Totsuka has to surpress a smile at Hashimoto being on the other end of somebody else’s wiles for once. “We can stay up all night and watch dirty movies and order room service!”

“Sure!” Hashimoto agrees right away.

“Don’t do any of those things!” their manager snaps.

“I’m gonna do at least one of those things in my room,” Kitayama murmurs to Totsuka on the way by, and Totsuka is looking forward to Osaka all the more, suddenly.

Sure enough, they’ve barely got the door closed before Kitayama is all roaming hands and lips pressed against Totsuka’s throat. He tries to walk them backwards and sends one suitcase crashing to the ground before he just stops and stands there, kissing Totsuka like he’ll die if he takes a deep breath.

“We’re supposed to be unpacking,” Totsuka murmurs, mindful that at any moment either Tamamori or Miyata might decide to test out the adjoining door, and that’s a best case scenario out of all ten other idiots they’re touring with.

“I’ve got something you can unpack, all right,” Kitayama tells him. Kicking his suitcase aside, Kitayama drags Totsuka along when he flops onto his back on the first bed, Totsuka’s weight barely making him grunt. “Damn, would you eat something?”

“Got something in mind?,” Totsuka asks, kissing Kitayama before he can retort.

They don’t get very far before the adjoining door really does bang open, but unexpectedly it’s Fujigaya who marches in to loom over them.

“Very classy, you two,” he says, although there isn’t much surprise in it. “We’ve got run-through in 20 minutes, so could you get off my frontman please?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Totsuka asks, blinking up at Fujigaya innocently while Kitayama snorts against his shoulder.

“Seriously, gross,” Fujigaya replies, deadpan. “If you guys want somebody to watch, try Tama-chan or Miyacchi, since they were totally sitting there listening to you two.”

“Were not!” Tamamori sticks his head in the doorway to yell. Fujigaya asks how he knew they were talking about him then, making Tamamori scowl and Totsuka shake with laughter.

“To be continued,” Kitayama promises after shooing off Fujigaya with a flailing hand. He kisses Totsuka soundly, hands still tight on Totsuka’s waist, and Totsuka murmurs that he’s looking forward to it.

Osaka is full of small mistakes and tripping over each other, pitfalls of doing the shows in a new venue, but the crowd is enthusiastic and welcoming. Plus they already filmed in Tokyo, so they can be as stupid as they want. During the skit where A.B.C-Z is offering to show the Kisugirls a good time, Hiromi leans over to kiss Totsuka’s cheek and Totsuka’s ears ring from the pitch of the girls nearest them.

They’d have gone deaf if the rest of the audience hadn’t been distracted just then by Darkness trying to do a transformation sequence into girl version.

“There’s already too many girl members, you boob!” Takako tries to tell him, hands on his green-frilled hips. Kawai and Fujigaya are laughing so hard that their mics are even picking it up for once.

“Shut up, eight to four splits way more evenly,” Goseki tells Takako lazily.

“Not if I won’t share!” Hiromi announces, wrapping arms even more tightly around Totsuka’s arms and making another wave of shrieks ripple out around them. Totsuka chuckles, saying into his mic that Hiromi needs to learn to play nice with the other kids, but when he catches Kitayama’s eyes, they’re 100% serious. “I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

The staff finally sends out the Snowmen to break up the party before they all dig themselves in any deeper, with their magical gender changing buckets of ice cold water. Totsuka yelps when the whole bucket of water comes down on his head instead of Hiromi’s.

“Hey!” he snaps, spluttering and pointing indignantly at his “girlfriend” and his hiked-up skirt.

“Sorry.” Miyadate grins, not looking sorry at all. “Staff-san said you needed a cold shower more than anybody else in this whole arena.”

Fortunately Watanabe comes over to check on their progress and still has half a bucket left for Hiromi, so Kitayama doesn’t have to quit Johnny’s to join AKB48 after all.

“It’s a pity,” Kitayama says as they’re toweling off backstage. “I was looking forward to the scandal.”

Totsuka tries to say something flip, but Kitayama looks up just then, hair roughed up into wet spikes, eyes bright with concert adrenaline, and all the words stick in Totsuka’s throat. Instead he grabs the ends of Kitayama’s towel and kisses him fiercely, chest full of desperation to get as much of Kitayama as he can while he still can.

“Don’t make me get the bucket again, senpai,” Watanabe intones from behind them. Totsuka pulls back with pink cheeks, but Kitayama doesn’t look embarrassed at all.

“This kind of scandal would be fine too,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. Totsuka shoves at him, spell broken, and then someone yells the thirty-second mark and they have to get back to work after all.

After the Saturday concerts are finally over, it feels like they have to shake off every single member of their combined unit, plus a bunch of persistent kouhai besides.

“Tomorrow, guys, seriously,” Kitayama hustles Hashimoto, half of Snow Man, and Yasui out of their room. “All the food, I promise, but tomorrow. Go join the big card game in Nika and Ken-chan’s room. Except for Yasui, he’s not legal yet.”

“Hey!” Yasui protests, just as Kitayama shuts the door in his face. Even through the door they can hear Hashimoto still laughing. Kitayama turns around, raising an eyebrow.

“You guys out too,” he says. “Go on, shoo.”

“Aww, you’re no fun this tour, Kitamitsu,” Tamamori complains, rolling off of Totsuka’s bed and stretching. “Come on, weirdo. Somebody has to keep me entertained.”

“Nighty-night!” Miyata says with a gigantic leer, before Tamamori yanks him through the door back into their room. When they hear the lock click, Kitayama heaves a sigh of relief and flops down next to Totsuka.

“You were serious about not wanting to share,” Totsuka says, impressed. He reaches down to poke Kitayama’s stomach where his T-shirt has ridden up.

“Said I was.” Kitayama brushes Totsuka’s hand off but then catches hold of it, rubbing his thumb across the palm of Totsuka’s hand. Then he tugs Totsuka down and rolls on top. “I think we left off about here, right?”

“I think it might have been a little different,” Totsuka says, sighing approval when Kitayama starts kissing his neck. “Mmm, close enough, whatever.”

The desperation from earlier is creeping back, humming just under Totsuka’s skin. He works hands under Kitayama’s shirt and pulls it off, then yanks off his own impatiently. When they are skin to skin, some of Totsuka’s anxiety fades, but he still clings as tight as he can. Kitayama’s grip is just as tight, and Totsuka wonders if Kitayama feels the same sense of time slipping away from them as he does.

Kitayama pauses, watching Totsuka’s face. He strokes knuckles across Totsuka’s jaw. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“So are you,” Totsuka points out. “I must be contagious. Better distract me.”

Kitayama is an excellent distraction as always, more than willing to press lips and fingers against all the spots that make Totsuka forget about everything except for him. He doesn’t stop until Totsuka is entirely relaxed and more than willing to return the favor. Even when they’re both satisfied for the moment, Kitayama goes on stroking Totsuka’s skin, slow passes of his hand down Totsuka’s side. The gentle touch relaxes Totsuka into all but dozing against Kitayama’s side. Eventually Kitayama’s hand stills on Totsuka’s hip and his head tilts back, and Totsuka assumes he’s fallen asleep until Kitayama speaks suddenly.

“I’m sorry, you know. About before.”

Totsuka pillows his head more comfortably against Kitayama’s shoulder, wondering why Kitayama wants to talk about this now, or ever. “Why? We both decided.”

They had decided, it’s true. When Kis-My-Ft2 got the announcement about their second solo concert series, when it was clear from then on they would be competing, both Kitayama and Totsuka had decided that their groups needed all of their attention, and that being together was too much distraction and covering up small hurts. It sounded good on paper, so to speak, but it hadn’t exactly worked out like that on both ends. Kitayama’s group had needed him to keep them all moving together for sure, but by contrast after that it had taken all of A.B.C-Z to keep Totsuka together even a little.

Totsuka had always thought he’d kept that secret well enough from Kitayama, but the way Kitayama’s grip tightens on his skin says that maybe it hadn’t worked that well.

“You really got hurt, though,” Kitayama says. “I really hurt you. So I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Totsuka answers simply, not sure how else to answer an apology that he didn’t even realize he’d been waiting for. Kitayama doesn’t seem to need any other answer anyway, hand back to stroking Totsuka’s hip gently.

After Kitayama does fall asleep, curled up along Totsuka’s back, Totsuka lies awake. He wants to enjoy the security of Kitayama’s arm thrown over his waist for as long as he can, instead of sleeping through it. Eventually thoughts of going home to Tokyo start creeping back in, of going back to normal.

When Totsuka can’t push those thoughts away on his own, he wakes Kitayama up so that Kitayama will distract him all over again.

Totsuka tries as hard as he can to keep on being 2014’s Totsuka, if for no other reason than because he promised Kawai. But three weeks after Osaka, Totsuka is still bringing his guitar to work like a comfort object, still strumming it idly during breaks while he stares at the ceiling. He was able to convince them for a while that it was post-concert letdown, of which he is an infamous sufferer, but they’re already starting rehearsals for the next thing, so it wasn’t an excuse that was made to last. Even Tsukada comments that Totsuka is doing like 2012 Totsuka, at best.

“Ugh, why did I encourage you?” Kawai demands, also staring at the ceiling from the couch, as if deflated by proxy. “Those stupid Kisugirls are all heartbreakers.”

“Why ask why, Fumito?” Totsuka replies, playing a twangy B minor chord. “Why do fish swim? Why do birds fly over the rainbow and why, oh why, can’t I?”

“You know existentialism gives me a headache, shut up,” Kawai groans. There’s the sound of a door opening and Kawai lifts his head to see who it is. “Hasshi, fix him, I’ve done all I can.”

“All you did was call Hiromitsu a girl and tell me to shut up,” Totsuka points out, faintly amused. A round head blocks Totsuka’s view of the ceiling, new perm giving him a cute halo. “Hi, Ryosuke.”

“I can fix it, definitely,” Hashimoto says. “D’you want me to? I won’t meddle unless you say.” He gives Kawai a side-eye. “‘Cause that never ends well, you know.”

“Go eat a bug, brat,” Kawai says, fanning his hand as if Hashimoto himself is the bug.

“It’s not a broken thing,” Totsuka tells Hashimoto. “We just decided it was best—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know all that,” Hashimoto interrupts with a slight roll of his eyes. Totsuka and Kawai both eye him suspiciously. “What? I was fifteen when we had those concerts, not five. But it’s all different now than then, so. Tottsu doesn’t need to worry about us anymore.”

Totsuka stares at Hashimoto some more.

“You know, because we debuted,” Hashimoto says patiently. He makes a little jazz hands motion. “Surprise! Congratulaaaations~. So do you want me to fix it or what?”

It’s mostly out of morbid curiosity that Totsuka says yes, go for it. Hashimoto nods as if satisfied, and then goes back out the door, phone already in his hand.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Totsuka asks. “He can’t break it any worse, really.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a broken thing,” Kawai sneers, then shoves Totsuka’s guitar out of the way and flops over to put his head in Totsuka’s lap. Totsuka pats his hair soothingly. “You’re so dumb, ugh. Why do we even love you at all?”

“I have no idea,” Totsuka murmurs. He’s just glad they do.

Nothing interesting happens during the rest of the day’s practice. When they leave, there’s no limo waiting to whisk Totsuka away to a fateful encounter, no rain-soaked lovers ready to toss their umbrellas at him. Even Hashimoto’s magic must have some limit, Totsuka figures, then focuses all his attention on getting home without getting rain-soaked himself.

He’s just coming out of the bath when there’s the chime of an incoming message on his phone.

[Buzz me up] Kitayama’s Line says. [Hurry it’s pouring] and then there’s a sticker of a wet, cranky hamster. Still toweling off his hair, Totsuka Lines back his apartment floor and number with one hand, and then buzzes Kitayama in. After that, he can only hover near the entranceway to wait, the two minutes it takes Kitayama to get up in the elevator seeming to stretch bizarrely long. When he finally does pull the door open, Kitayama looks exactly like his hamster sticker, scowling, his hair rain-slicked against his head.

“Threw your umbrella too early?” Totsuka guesses. Kitayama gives him a dirty look as he shuffles inside to kick off his shoes. Totsuka unwinds the towel from his neck and drops it on Kitayama’s head. “Ryosuke didn’t say I had a terrible accident or something to send you over here, did he? Whatever he told you, sorry, it’s my fault.”

“Why are you telling that brat anything?” Kitayama rubs viciously at his hair for a second before tugging the towel off to glare at Totsuka. “You absolute moron, why didn’t you say something? I thought this was what you wanted! I stayed away because I thought we were just…” Kitayama cuts off with an angry noise.

“Weren’t we?” Totsuka asks, voice faint enough that it’s hard to hear himself over the pounding of his heart. “Just because concerts…”

“Totsuka Shota,” Kitayama drops the towel to grab Totsuka’s shoulders, fingers digging in tightly, “if I were going to pick somebody just to fuck around with because it’s a concert weekend, I would have to be some kind of asshole to pick you. Were you fooling around even a little?”

“No,” Totsuka admits, dropping his eyes because it’s too hard to look Kitayama in the face. “Fumito even tried to stop me, but I wanted you too much. Even if it was just for a little while, I wanted you. I thought if it had been long enough for you, then maybe I could handle it too.”

“It’ll never be long enough,” Kitayama says fiercely. “If it takes us sixty years to do the next joint concerts, I’ll still never be over you enough to just fuck around. But I’m not made of steel, fuck. Do you know what kind of torture it was watching you do Ken-chan’s fucking choreography? It was all I could do to keep from throwing you right up against the mirrors!”

“I think I might have some kind of idea what you mean, yes,” Totsuka says. He reaches up to pull one of Kitayama’s hands off his shoulder, to cup it between his hands, rubbing his thumb over the center of Kitayama’s palm. “But it’s always been like that. Are things really so different now? Aren’t we right back where we started?”

Kitayama is silent for a stretch of long seconds, staring at his hand in Totsuka’s.

“That sounds good,” he says at last. “I’d really like a do-over.”

“A do-over?” Kitayama looks so earnest that Totsuka can’t help but smile at him just a little. “Really, Hiromitsu?”

“What do you think? I’m pretty sure our groups are old enough to take care of themselves by now.” Kitayama tugs Totsuka a little closer, close enough to kiss his cheekbone, his temple. “Say yes or I’m going to lose my mind. I’ll switch into your group just so I can have every single concert weekend. I’ll tell Johnny-san that I’m trying to even out the numbers.”

Totsuka pushes Kitayama back far enough to press his hands to either side of Kitayama’s face. Kitayama looks back at him, gaze simple and direct. “What is it about you that gets me to make the same mistakes over and over again?”

“I have it on good authority that it’s my hot ass,” Kitayama says, deadpan. Totsuka doesn’t see Kitayama’s smile because Kitayama is already leaning in to kiss him again, but he feels it pressed against his mouth. After a couple minutes, he also feels Kitayama shivering.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” Totsuka says, pulling away. The front of his own T-shirt isn’t in much better shape.

“You have that effect on me,” Kitayama says, finally stripping off his jacket like he’s going to stay awhile. “Maybe a few other Kisugirls too, but you didn’t hear it from me.” He looks around for a spot to hang his jacket to dry, and Totsuka remembers his manners finally.

“Since it’s your first time here, want the tour?” Totsuka asks, taking the jacket out of Kitayama’s hands and hanging it neatly off the handle of his vacuum cleaner, the only convenient place.

“Does it lead to your bed?” Kitayama is already stripping off his shirt without waiting for an answer.

“Come along and find out,” Totsuka says, letting Kitayama push him backwards as Kitayama starts walking forward. “On your right is the kitchen area and the breakfast nook.”

“Uh-huh,” Kitayama agrees, barely looking at Totsuka’s “nook,” which is actually one stool, before he drops his wet T-shirt onto it.

“This area is for recreation and entertainment,” Totsuka says as they pass the couch. Kitayama murmurs something positive, hands on Totsuka’s hips to keep him moving in the right direction and trailing kisses along his jaw. “Mm, and the book club also meets in this vicinity. We only have one member at the moment, but we’re hopeful about our prospects.”

“Feel free to demonstrate what sort of entertainments happen out here,” Kitayama says, sliding his hands under Totsuka’s T-shirt to rub up and down his sides. “Later. Much later.”

“To your right is the combination steam room and water park facility.” Totsuka waves a hand. “Which I might recommend, given the temperature of your skin.”

“Shota, you have exactly ten seconds to end your tour and get rid of these clothes,” Kitayama breathes in Totsuka’s ear. “Or your neighbors are going to think you really do have some sort of amusement park in here. One with a very loud haunted house.”

“Ah, the 5-star accommodations, yes, here we are,” Totsuka finishes quickly when his knees bump the end of his bed. “Complimentary breakfast included with all overnight stays. Would you like your pillow fluffed, sir?”

Kitayama finally loses it, snorting laughter against Totsuka’s shoulder as he tumbles them both onto the bed. He’s still chuckling when they win the battle against his wet jeans; Totsuka’s pajama pants prove much less of a challenge by contrast. Totsuka pulls the blankets over both of them to try and warm Kitayama’s chilled skin, rolling on top of him and stroking his damp hair out of his face.

“The services you offer here are certainly enjoyable,” Kitayama says, tilting his head back to let Totsuka kiss more of his throat. “Although I’m willing to bet the only complimentary breakfast in your fridge is a few cups of nearly expired yogurt.”

“There might be half a pudding in there,” Totsuka retorts. Kitayama stops him from spouting any more nonsense with a kiss fierce enough to steal his breath. Kitayama’s hands slide over Totsuka’s back, much warmer than the rest of him. Soon enough Totsuka is the one shivering and there’s more than enough heat trapfped under the blankets with them.

“What do you want?” Kitayama asks between kisses. Totsuka can barely pay attention to what he’s saying, much less answer, when Kitayama’s clever fingers are stroking through the hair at the base of his skull. “Focus, Shota. Tell me how you want me.”

“Mmm,” Totsuka says, face buried in the curve of Kitayama’s neck, nibbling on the skin closest. He almost says just like this, don’t move, but then he thinks about the last time they slept together and Kitayama’s weight warm and heavy against his back. “On my hands and knees.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Kitayama agrees right away. His hand leaves Totsuka’s hair to trail down his shoulder and side instead, then between them to stroke Totsuka’s cock where it’s pressed between their stomachs. He doesn’t seem in a rush, and Totsuka rolls them onto their sides and hooks a leg over Kitayama’s thigh to urge him along before Totsuka goes out of his mind. “Impatient,” Kitayama says, letting his hand trail down further over the curve of Totsuka’s ass. “But I guess you’ve done enough waiting.”

“Yes,” Totsuka replies emphatically, not that it keeps him from clinging unhelpfully when Kitayama tries to roll over to find Totsuka’s lube. He tries to roll over on his stomach, but Kitayama will have none of that. He settles Totsuka’s leg a little higher over his thigh and goes back to kissing Totsuka leisurely while he starts working Totsuka open. “Hiromitsu…”

“It won’t make me go any faster, but you can certainly keep talking if you like,” Kitayama tells him. Totsuka takes this to mean that it’s perfectly fine for him to keep moaning Kitayama’s name sweetly into his ear until Kitayama gives up and shoves Totsuka onto his stomach.

Kitayama always feels like too much when he pushes into Totsuka at first, but Totsuka likes the sting of it, how it grounds him in the moment. Bracing himself on his elbows, Totsuka groans his appreciation when Kitayama settles his weight against Totsuka’s back. It doesn’t leave Kitayama much room to move, but the short, deep thrusts suit Totsuka just fine, sending heat spreading over his skin. Kitayama mouths wet kisses along the top of Totsuka’s spine, and Totsuka doesn’t hold back any of his noises since Kitayama likes that so much.

“Should I?” Kitayama asks, brushing Totsuka’s belly just above the base of his cock. Totsuka can only moan helplessly at that point, making Kitayama chuckle against his shoulder. He closes fingers around Totsuka’s cock, stroking him off in time with his thrusts until Totsuka’s orgasm sweeps over him.

His release leaves him shaking and loose-limbed, but Kitayama’s grip holds him steady. Totsuka is still getting his bearings when Kitayama comes with a hiss of Totsuka’s name, and then the whole room seems to spin as Kitayama tips them on their sides to collapse onto the mattress.

Neither of them speak for a while, Totsuka finding much-needed security in the tight grip of Kitayama’s backwards hug. Eventually Kitayama shifts, arm no doubt long asleep, and Totsuka rolls over to help rub feeling back into his forearm.

“What’ll we sing about next concert?” Kitayama asks, eyes half-closed but still watching Totsuka’s fingers on his skin.

“Impossible things,” Totsuka answers. Kitayama’s hand is cradled between his and he rubs thumbs across Kitayama’s palm, watching the flex of his fingers.

“You’re an impossible thing,” Kitayama tells him, and Totsuka murmurs that he supposes he is, kissing Kitayama’s fingertips until Kitayama catches his nose to tweak it.

Long after Kitayama is a snoring paperweight beside him, Totsuka lies awake, not quite willing to believe things will still be this way if he dares sleep. He amuses himself updating his Jweb with a cryptic entry about late night home parties and a thank you mail to Hashimoto, and while his phone is still in his hand a message from Kawai comes through.

[GUESS WHAT] it reads. [A BIG FLUFFY BIRD JUST TOLD ME NEXT SINGLE MAYBE JOINT RELEASE????]

We’ve already had one of those tonight, Totsuka sends back, chuckling to himself when Kawai sends back a sticker of a cactus cursing. As he sets his phone aside, though, Totsuka is already thinking about what kind of lyrics he’ll write if they really do get to sing together.

Totsuka has a promise to keep, after all.