Ohshit a Kouslut (OK for short)

Ohshiba Kousuke RP and Ask Blog Your local maths teacher, street thug and manwhore. Ask Box open (might not answer on school nights)

[kouslut]

Welcome to kouslut, an indie Ohshiba Kousuke Ask and RP blog. Make sure to check the docs linked below before interacting!

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Penned by Ulri.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

Masahiro blanched as the juggler thanked him for his appreciation of the show. It was surprising for two reasons: The first, that the performer had actually recognized and remembered his face at all. It wasn’t as though he was particularly memorable (a fact that was quite useful when he picked pockets), and somehow this beautiful man had taken notice of him before this night. The second was that he had been inspired to leave him his hard earned coin in the first place. It was honestly a testament to his attraction and misplaced interest in the man that had made him willing to part with it at all, but because of his performances, he had managed to collect enough money and valuables that he figured he could start over in another city. A small, modest living to be sure, but at least it would be better than how he was faring now.

Somehow, the juggler had become his very own patron saint. It would have been rude not to thank him.

But as for his answer to the question of why he had been distracted… he wasn’t sure he really wanted to answer that. Would the man be horrified or disgusted by his attraction toward him? That every night he found himself pulled toward the performance not just for the chance to ply his trade but also to see the wild smile on the juggler’s face as he charmed the crowd? Most nights he managed to slip away before letting his fantasies run their course, but this night he had been completely enraptured. Something about his fluid movements, the timber of his laugh, the sparkle in his eyes… his heart had skipped a beat and made him falter. It was pathetic, to say the least.

He ducked his head, hiding his face in his cloak as he fumbled for a response that wouldn’t sound like a lie. “I suppose my luck had run its course.”

Before the man could press him further, asking questions that he couldn’t answer for fear of being left alone, Masahiro pressed on. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for either of us to try and slip back into the city. Thankfully, most of my caches are here in the forest. I suppose it’s only fair to share them with you, since your performances lent me the opportunity to gather it all… and it’s my fault that you can’t go back.”

He stood up and gestured a little farther into the woods. “If you wait here for me, I can gather my things and be back before the moon is high in the sky.” And then he hesitated for a long moment before opening his mouth once again. “I’m… my name is Masahiro. If we are going to be partners, I thought you should know.”

[kouslut]

Eh? What was up with that pause? Kousuke had asked about the boy's failure entirely to get the attention off of himself so he could get a moment to gather his thoughts and recompose himself and, most of all, to not have to explain his reasons beyond their most superficial aspects- to not have to actually introspect over the simple question of: "Why?"

Why would anyone do anything? Why would he help a stranger? Why would he try and act like he was capable of being of help when he knew very well that he was, in most cases, more apt to destruction than anything else? Why, when he had actively chosen to be selfish time and time again, to live selfishly, ever since he'd accepted that simple fact?

It was all shit he didn't want to even try and dip his... sadly exposed toes in. The boots had broken off on one side after all. Ah- fuck, that didn't matter. What mattered was that it was obvious that, when faced with the inevitability of someone's execution- someone he'd grown accustomed to seeing, performance after performance- and the thought that he himself had nothing to lose, nothing that could really be worth as much or more than even a stranger's life, he'd just... acted. Incredibly dumbly and thoughtlessly, mind you. But he'd done something and he didn't regret it, even despite the broken boots and the... bloodthirsty crowd.

Still, none of that could explain that fucking awkward pause, nor the sudden emergence of hesitation in the boy's demeanour at the posing of the question, nor the almost embarrassed manner in which he hid his face from sight. A part of him, the one that remembered smirking at the kid as he'd averted his gaze on more than one occasion, the one that had taken notice of a not completely irrelevant number of lingering glances, thought it had the answer. Part of it, anyways. But he didn't like the idea of his skill being so impressive he'd almost got someone's hands cut off. Nor that of being hot enough to garner the same result. Nor that of his active attempts at impressing specific members of his audience to maybe get something out of them later resulting in genuinely dreadful things. And so he decided he'd believe there was a worse, far less himself-related reason.

Hunger, for instance. Malnutrition was sure to slow one's movements in the long run and the kid was bordering emaciated, if he had to say. As for the pause, well. He'd have been fucking embarrassed about being asked how and why he'd dropped a dagger while juggling also.

He shouldn't have asked the fucking question- especially because he did not want to deal with the answer that had, at once, become obvious. Hunger really was a dreadful thing, yes. And, since his own coins had lied to him already, he would not have a hard time convincing himself that luck was just having a rough day itself, and struggling to get around.

"So-" Kousuke tried to start, and instantly felt grateful for the interruption that came. Changing subject suited him- and the situation, too. They had been running, after all. And it seemed that they were going to have to keep doing that- the kid was right, there would be no going back and there wasn't going to be any place for them in that city, not anymore. Not for the unlucky thief, and certainly not for the glorified gigolò who'd enjoyed someone else's so-called property one time too many.

The proposal of sharing treasure, now that caught Kousuke more than just off guard- because he was in no position to say no, having just abandoned most of his possessions in a public square, but he also very well knew that, in agreeing, he'd have been taking advantage of someone who was taking responsibility for something that, in Kousuke's case, had been nothing but a matter of time- a tragedy waiting to happen. He was the one whose skin had only been saved thanks to the other's knowledge of the surrounding area- he was the one in debt, even id he did recognize that he had acted... maybe a little chivalrous. Maybe a little bit awesome, even, in stepping in. Heroic, maybe.

Right.

There was only one choice that could be made- the same one he was always going to opt for- but, before Kousuke could agree and take his fair share in exchange for his nothing, the boy offered up his name.

Masahiro. Easy to remember. Lent itself well for a potential future alias, actually- he liked the sound of it. It was hardly a name for a thief- that was what he found himself thinking.

Well- Kousuke wasn't one to be picky. And, to have agreed so easily to the role of partners, to have so easily decided to trust someone with his face and dress, this Masahiro boy could be nothing but desperate and, certainly, a little insane. Just how he liked people. And, as distrustful as he'd grown to be, Kousuke really didn't have it in him to even care to check whether the boy's errand was a made up story to double cross him and sell him out. For all he cared, he'd done his part. He'd run, he'd stumbled and he'd kept running, he'd run until his lungs had stopped hurting, even. If he was going to be killed now that he'd finally settled, now that there was a pretense of safety in the air, he'd have accepted it. It wasn't like he had much to lose, really. ... And, if worst came to worst, his daggers were still on him and not the kid- Masahiro- nor any of the guards that he'd seen around town would have stood a chance. Of that he was certain.

... Very well.

"Making it official, then? You move fast, Masahiro," he laughed, mostly to himself, and a little to endear the other as much as he could, since that was a weapon he held dear, too. "I'm not normally one to wait in one place, but I suppose I will. For you," he purposefully spoke, tilting his head and noticeably lowering his gaze down to his feet. "And, hopefully, to pretend this boot isn't completely done for. So feel free to go and do your business. I'll wait."

Hoping none of his actual nervousness was coming through the facade he'd conjured up, that strange mix of not-quite flirtiness and clumsiness that was hardly even recognizable as himself, Kousuke made up his mind. Holding out his hand after staring Masahiro up and down again, he abandoned his lone-wolf self, whether it was to stand the test of time or only last a handful of minutes before he was inevitably stabbed in the back. "I'm Kousuke," he offered through the fakest confident grin he'd given in a while. "I trust that you'll be back soon, partner."

Already, he felt himself mourning and regretting the decision. The thought of a coin toss, and the feeling of his hand being grabbed, were enough to dispel even that.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

Masahiro couldn’t quite believe it, but did Kousuke seem unsure? It had to be his imagination. It was impossible that someone so universally popular as he was would never have a reason to be awkward around anyone. Masahiro probably barely even registered on his radar. But still, there was something in his expression after he complimented the man that led him to think he wasn’t quite as put together as Masahiro assumed he was.

When Tsunehito joined them, or rather, joined Kousuke, Masahiro could feel the wall being bricked up between them. Almost as effective as the cold rejection that had happened between their characters only a few minutes before. Once the two men were together, Masahiro became an afterthought, an outsider. His skin crawled at the thought of trying to have a conversation with Kousuke while the other man existed between them. Even as Kousuke attempted to invite him to join him and some of the other actors for lunch.

“I…” He opened his mouth to respond, to tell Kousuke he didn’t want to be in the way, but was caught off guard by the uncertainty in his co-star's voice. Was the awkwardness from earlier still saturating their interactions? If so, how could he fix that? He had started it with his social ineptitude, but he had no idea how to make things genuinely friendly between them.

Tsunehito inviting himself was another blow, and Masahiro bit his lower lip, leaning back in his chair and away from the two as much as he could. If he could just speak up, could make a joke or brush it all off, everything would be better. But he had no idea how to manage that. If he had, the entire debacle that morning wouldn’t have happened at all! How could he be expected to figure this out when he couldn’t even handle a one on one conversation?

But… It really did seem like Kousuke wanted him to go to the cast lunch. And, he knew it was probably a good idea, even if he didn’t end up having a chance to chat with him when his friend was around. If he got to know some of the other actors his age, the ones that would be playing the group of high school friends, maybe it would do him some good. Having some actual conversations with people his age and getting to know them could only help with their dynamic in the future. So, even if he didn’t get to connect more with his co-star, it would probably be a good experience over all.

It didn’t change the fact that he wanted to connect with Kousuke. And not just on this project. He wanted to get to know him. There was something in the way he had thrown all politeness out the window that morning and just talked to him so frankly that made Masahiro crave to pick his brain a bit more. He wanted to know the real Kousuke, and not the face he showed everyone as an actor. It was selfish, and not at all something he was willing to actually ask for. Kousuke would likely laugh in his face. There was no way his offer of “friendship” had been a genuine offer. It was for them to put on a good face for the media.

He knew that. He did. It didn’t stop him from wishing it was real.

“I… I’ll go. I should probably get to know everyone, right?” He forced a smile, drawing on the acting he had been doing for the last little while with their table read. “You don’t have to babysit me or anything though. I’m sure you’d rather hang out with your friend. No one’s gonna like me if I try to keep the star all to myself.”

Had his voice cracked when he said 'all to himself'? Had he betrayed his honest feelings? Masahiro looked down at the pile of papers in front of him, needing to not look at Kousuke any more than necessary. It wouldn’t be good if his co-star hated him from day one because he was clingy just because he had offered him some advice. It would be better if he got to know the others and didn’t focus all his attention on Kousuke. Better for Kousuke, at any rate. He didn’t want any weird rumors starting because he was already feeling so attached.

[kouslut]

Having for the most part already deemed it all a lost cause- courtesy of Tsunehito and his own awkwardness in the face of someone he knew wouldn't be swayed as easily as those who called himself his fans- Kousuke's eyes shot open at the unexpected acceptance of his invitation. And then further still at the rest of the words that followed it- babysit? Keep the star all to himself? The fact that Masahiro was suggesting that he'd caught on to his attempts at ensuring he didn't step out of line in any way that might compromise his time on set was, admittedly, more shocking yet.

Not that it wasn't obvious- he'd just figured he'd been friendly and subtle enough for his behaviour to hopefully have registered as friendly rather than pointedly aimed at the goal of shaping him into a better co-lead. That wasn't really his intent, no- Kousuke had really just meant to try and... help, he supposed. Because, as always he'd assumed he knew better. And he did, he did for real, for once in his life, because acting and gigs like this one had been his job for the past god-knows-how-long. But the thing was that he did respect Masahiro's actual way of doing things, the way he'd handled the reading. Yes, it had been a little rough around the edges, in the way that it was bound to be for reasons that included the fact that it had been the first time for everyone, but it had in no way been bad or unprofessional and now-

Well. Now he felt a little cheated. Cheated in the fact that Tsunehito had decided to be annoying and that, as a result, Masahiro himself had seemingly decided that Kousuke's invitation had been a matter of obligation and fake politeness, which- no. No, that simply wasn't him. It had been to an extent, maybe, but only because the guy had looked helpless and he had a thing for feeling helpful- that had been it.

The perceived rejection of his kindness was all it took for him to realize how genuine it all had been, on his part. And fuck him if he wasn't going to make that apparent.

And then there was the bit about being kept all to one person, which- how was he supposed to take something like that? Because it was either a kind way of asking him to fuck off, which seemed unlikely, or a very unsubtle beg for-

... Well, there was no need to misconstrue things- Masahiro probably had just assumed that he was being a burden. And Kousuke had drilled it into his own brain already that he wasn't going to have his good intentions squandered by that sort of distrust born of useless insecurities. It wasn't like he hadn't dealt with that sort of resistance before, if for completely different reasons and in entirely unrelated situations- and, this time, he had genuineness on his side. He wasn't going to be shot down if he could help it. And Masahiro was going to fucking have to sit at his side if he had a say in it, as a penalty for doubting his goodwill.

"The sweet Makoto's joining us!" Tsunehito unhelpfully helped himself to the conversation with that not-quite-laughing giggle of his, stealing the air just as Kousuke had been about to respond, if a little too eagerly and maybe the tiniest bit angrily. "How nice. Love the method acting! Can see why you were cast." As his bitterness was redirected from his co-lead to his best friend, Kousuke made a mental note to offer Tsunehito a round for unknowingly allowing him to get out of it all without having to get snarky. With a shake of his head and a sigh, he fixed his face and let the frown melt away, and tore the other's forearms off himself, too, while he was at it.

"I really did think you were gonna bomb," Tsunehito continued after sticking out his tongue at Kousuke, obviously not giving a shit about how patronizing he sounded- or maybe, maybe doing it entirely on purpose. Free round rights revoked. "Since Kou seemed sooo preoccupied with you. But you did great! Gratz!" "Fu- Shut up," Kousuke flicked him in annoyance, admittedly understanding why one might think him two-faced, considering the company he kept, disregarding the fact that he actually was. He hurried to reassure Masahiro as best as he could, though he was sure there was no reassurance to be found in his annoyed expression. "He doesn't mean to talk sh- be rude. He's just a fucking moron." "Guilty as charged!" the other promptly chimed in, flashing a smile to boot. Asshole. "At any rate-" Kousuke raised his voice just to ensure Tsunehito would shut up for good. If he furrowed his brow at Masahiro, well, that was only for the sake of ensuring that he would take his words seriously, too. And maybe to challenge that modesty of his. "Everyone's going to be wanting to talk to us both, mister co-lead. Sticking together is a matter of convenience on top of being a necessity for teambuilding."

... Ah, fuck. That only reinforced the "only doing this to look good" narrative. Fuck. He'd fix that later- the guy was gonna be forced to stick to him at any rate. He'd get his chance to prove his points- and himself. For now, he could only roll with it and whatever the fuck Masahiro would have made of it.

"As for hanging out with my friend," he continued after a beat. "That's for when work's over." "Aww, Kou-" Tsunehito's derisive comment was promptly cut off by Kousuke's own elbow to his ribs. "So," he continued. "Let's head to lunch, Masahiro."

[kouslut]

Sorry for being late, I was doing, uh. Stuff. But the show will be back on soon, rest assured.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

Even knowing that the line was coming, it didn’t prepare Masahiro for hearing it fall from Kousuke’s lips. This man, this actor who was practically worshiped across Japan, was staring into his eyes and had laid down a line that was not only dripping with derision but the last thing anyone would want to hear. From those lips, with that face, there wasn’t a person alive who would want to hear such a cold rejection. A line that was written in such a way to slap the listener across the face with the calculated crudeness. 

It hurt to hear more than he had thought possible. And it wasn’t even directed at him, but his character. Still…

Masahiro cringed back into his seat, letting out an almost inaudible “Yeah… okay…” in response to Yoshiki’s suggestion to head back into the house. With that, the episode was over, drawing to a close on an emotional cliffhanger that was sure to bring the viewers clamoring back for the next episode.

As soon as the read was finished, the heavy atmosphere of the final scene lifted. The cast and crew politely applauded the initial performance and then the director stood up again. “We’ll be passing around the schedule for rehearsals and filming. Make sure to note which cast group you are part of so that you don’t miss any rehearsals or location shoots. Group A will be meeting tomorrow morning at 9 am, so don’t be late! Dismissed.”

A large sheaf of paper was dropped in front of him with the words ‘schedule’ in bolded letters on the front page. A quick check showed that he was part of Group A, which wasn’t a surprise as he was one of the two lead roles. Group B was mostly filled with the school friends, and the other groups grew smaller and more specific from there. It was kind of interesting to see the breakdown of roles, and even the regulated scheduling. It made it feel like an actual job, rather than a step into some world he couldn’t really fathom.

He got distracted looking through the schedule, forgetting that Kousuke was still sitting next to him until his loud friend called out to him. Then Masahiro’s head snapped up at the realization that he’d lost his best chance to speak with his co-star again. He cursed himself as he stacked his script, schedule and assorted notes into his hands. He had meant to thank Kousuke for his help that morning, to praise him for his work during the table read… but he didn’t think he’d be able to do any of that in front of his friend. Something about the man made Masahiro feel like he didn’t belong anywhere around Kousuke. Like he was less than nothing to either of them. It didn’t exactly make him comfortable.

“Good work today,” he told Kousuke quickly, his words running together in his haste to get them said before Tsunehito reached them. “Thanks for your help with everything.”

[kouslut]

Kousuke wasn't one to fall into self-flattery, he had when he's been a teenager- he didn't need to anymore, not now, not when he had way too many people thinking way too highly of him around him all the time already- but he had to admit to himself, he'd delivered those ridiculous lines of his pretty fucking well. Hell, had it been anyone but himself, he'd have punched the person speaking them in the face- that was how convincing he'd been. Probably. That was what the reaction in the room suggested, along with his own personal assessment. That was what Masahiro's complete deflation in response, both physical and vocal, suggested.

... Was he going to have to remind the guy that actor and role were two separate things and that he hadn't spoken those words to him or...? No, he wasn't giving the boy enough credit- he was forgetting to alienate Masahiro from the character he was playing, too. That reaction, that quiet whisper that was the result of astonishment in tandem with disappointment, frustration, denial- all the things one may have felt when confronted with that sort of situation- even without proper direction from anyone, that was exactly how Makoto should have acted, how Masahiro should have made him act.

It couldn't be called much of anything if not good. Kousuke only had to wonder why he'd thought even for a second that, because the scene had played out so well, it couldn't have possibly been the result of the boy's actual acting. He'd been cast for a reason, duh. He'd realized all that already. And yet something about the way Masahiro carried himself and his character made him feel like he had to be there to ensure he could take his baby steps- except if he didn't pay enough attention he'd end up being the one crawling, probably.

... It didn't really matter. It wasn't like he didn't know how to do his own job- it wasn't like he didn't know how to lead a scene. And this kind of thing, rather than being a hindrance, could surely be used to enhance the performance, no? A chemistry of sorts- not quite a good one, maybe, but certainly something that Yoshiki could play off of.

Polite- and in some cases enthusiastic- applause filled the room, and Kousuke decided he could space out at that point. Schedules were not his thing and basically the whole reason why he'd signed with Shirou in the first place. He didn't really care to know anything that wasn't what he was going to have to do in the immediate future, and he sure as hell didn't want to have to look at a calendar only to think: "Christ, I have no days off, do I?" Which was going to be a partial lie only, because between his full-time job as an actor and the rest of his time spent being a professional fuckup, he definitely had his hands full when filming was on. ... The thing he was going to have to plan were drinking nights. To avoid showing up to the shootings of the final scenes with bad breath and a hangover.

He wasn't sure just how long he'd spent staring into nothingness while desperately trying to remember whether he had fruit at home or not- and if he'd forgotten to put the cherries in the fridge when and if he'd bought them- but the thing that shook him out of his trance was, unsurprisingly, Tsunehito's ever too loud voice.

Kousuke's first thought, unexpectedly, was that of looking to check what Masahiro was doing. In his defense, it was pretty normal for the co-leads to critique one another even if only in the positive after a read-through like that, and they hadn't gotten any chances to actually talk after that first hiccup involving his friend and- Yeah, as he thought, the boy had tensed up at the sound of the other man's voice. Which meant he probably wasn't going to stay behind for a chat with the rest of the cast- or at least not with him- unless...

Masahiro's voice came out just about as it had when reading that last line from the script. Shamefully enough, that allowed for something to take root in Kousuke's brain, at that moment. Something that was sure to grow cancerously out of proportion. Something he wasn't going to even consider ripping out on his own until he'd be back at home, alone.

Before Tsunehito could reach their side of the table, Kousuke did the one thing he knew to do. He acted. In this case... just so that a far nicer version of himself could emerge. "Good work to you," he responded like he hadn't noticed his friend coming to probably put him in a playful chokehold for a second or two, leaning his weight forward and onto the papers in front of him to rest his head on his hand. "You did great, even without considering the fact that it's your first gig. All the more so when taking that into account."

It wasn't that he wanted to flatter Masahiro, it was that he didn't want to seem closed to the possibility of friendship- it was that he was a fucking moron and he wanted to ensure that the boy in front of him somehow got the message that he was doing great work and that Kousuke could see his value despite the deadly awkwardness he'd made a show of earlier on. It was that he needed to ensure that this kid who felt and seemed to be so much younger than him wouldn't feel invisible- that he wouldn't think he wasn't good enough for the likes of him.

"Actually," he continued, despite the fact that he'd craved nothing more than the possibility of going back home after the tedious obligation- which had turned out to be... well, predictably stimulating. "You should stick around, if you can. Everyone's probably going to try and get together for lunch, so-" Tsunehito's call of his name was a little too purposeful in its interruption, that time. Agh. "I'd like to chat more, if you're willing," he managed to conclude with an uncertainty he didn't want to believe was his.

Finally, Tsunehito's chokehold came. In response the Kousuke's overexaggerated cough, his friend only laughed. "Oooh, lunch, can I also come?" ... The instinctive response of "No, you're getting a restraining order from me, not food," didn't feel appropriate to voice in front of anyone that wasn't Tsunehito alone. So, instead, the man let out a sort of dismissive growl.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

Expecting to be carted off to the authorities, Masahiro had been struck dumb the moment he heard a voice call out in the crowd. His attention, which had been focused wholly on somehow sliding free of the large man’s grasp, was now focused back on the last person he had expected to see walking toward him: The juggler.

Holding up a hand and smiling with a charming joviality, the performer tried to reason with the man still holding Masahiro in a fierce grip. He hadn’t expected anyone to even try to come to his aid, not when the word thief was spreading through the crowd like a whispered plague. But here was the handsome juggler, the one that had been so distracting that he had inadvertently caused this mess, trying to help him out of it. Had he not understood what had happened? Why would he stop his show to assist a criminal?

He was still trying to free himself from the hand on his wrist when he heard the man suggest he and the juggler were accomplices. Masahiro’s head snapped up, horror in his eyes as he realized what was not happening. The crowd was beginning to whisper again, shock rippling through them as the juggler stood on the spot for one all too terrifying moment… and then smiled and lied through his teeth and he proclaimed that they were in this together.

Masahiro wanted to shout, to ask the man if he wanted to lose his hands too! Was he insane? Did he not know how a town like this would treat him if they thought he was working with someone as pathetically low born and disgusting as a pickpocket like him? What could he possibly have to gain from agreeing to this madness?

And then, everything around him erupted into chaos.

The juggler pulled his blades out, everyone began screaming and at some point his wrist was freed. Masahiro pulled away and reached for his spare dagger, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it to protect himself, but not wanting to leave the mess to the man who had been kind enough to call him his partner. As he did so, more accusations were called out, his new friend swore and he felt himself being grabbed again, but this time by a much friendlier (he hoped) hand.

They bolted out of the town square and down a back alley, moving through the twisting and turning back roads as they tried to lose the screaming crowd behind them. Masahiro knew it was unlikely for them to get away, but he knew the intricacies and hidden spots of this town better than anyone. Thinking fast, he pulled ahead and took the lead. 

“This way,” he muttered, yanking them both behind a building that led toward the river. “I know somewhere we can hide.”

It took a few minutes and some quick changes of plans, but he managed to lead them toward one of his hidden caches. A small trail that led from the river into the forest that ringed the north edge of town. There was a large fallen tree, felled by a storm the previous winter, and he led his new companion to a small shelter it created.

“We should be safe here for a bit,” he breathed, squinting through the trees toward the trail that led back into town. When his heartbeat slowed the fairest bit, he turned to face the juggler, the same sort of squint still gracing his expression. Though this time it was because he was looking for the truth.  “Why did you say I was your partner? They might have killed you.”

[kouslut]

Run, run, run, run fast and run the fuck away, that was all he had to do. Too bad he had no fucking clue where it was he was running to, though he knew far too well what he was running from. Forget hands, that guy was going to get his dick cut off and feed it to him too- to think he'd promised himself so many times that he wasn't going to sleep with people in committed relationships for that exact reason. But what was a man such as himself supposed to do in the face of an advance from a beautiful albeit older woman? Say no? Put a damper on the mood and ask if she had a husband? Yeah, right. He was going to call it the guy's own fault for being lacking, since his wife had so readily turned to him. At the same time, he was sure enough that the crowd chasing after him, which really only lacked the torches and pitchforks at that point, wasn't going to agree.

He could have made a very funny point, in his defense. Though, should he have been granted the privilege of standing before a court of justice, he had an inkling he was going to find that the judge wouldn't have quite appreciated his sense of humour. In fact- it would have probably come out that he'd slept with the guy's son and turned him "wrong" or some such.

... He didn't know this street. He hadn't known the one they'd been on before, either. He didn't really make a habit of studying his surroundings- he was one to roam at night and, generally speaking, he always had company leading the way. ... He was utterly and thoroughly fucked. He might have been able to, yes, but he didn't want to slice through a horde of innocent people who were only misguided in their desire to slice through him. So all he could do was think of how to at the very least make his death a memorable one. Then again, he was sure most people would have remembered someone dying if it was with his own junk stuffed down his esophagus-

Suddenly, he felt a pull on his arm. And then he remembered just how it all had started and, most importantly, that he did have company who possibly knew a way out of that situation. That was why allying oneself with a thief was actually a good idea- though he hadn't actually been in that position before. It was as good a time as any to pretend he was an optimist. The coins had promised good luck- unless his brain had gotten broken somewhere along the way and made him unable to count- and hope was the last to die, no? He'd done his good deed, though he obviously hadn't really thought it through. He'd chosen his course of action, so now all he could do was follow this... surprisingly fast little boy and his seemingly perfect knowledge of the street layout. The guy said he knew a place to hide. And Kousuke was gonna trust that, blindly and wholeheartedly. Because he simply had nothing to lose- nothing that could be worse to be parted from than the organ that was currently making him a living, please and thanks. Street performing could only go so far in terms of coin- and a man needed a fucking bed to sleep on every once in a while and-

The boy pulled him to the side slide into yet another narrow alley. And, at that point, because its overactivity was only being a hindrance, Kousuke's brain allowed itself rest so his legs could keep running at top speed. He didn't need to think. Just to follow and let himself be led. To safety or to damnation- it was all the same, in the end.

When he came to- rather, when his companion stopped and let go of his hand- he found, to his surprise, that they'd left the town behind, that they were out, sheltered and, most likely, safe. No massive crowd seemed to be sprinting their way, not anymore, not judging by the noise. His throat was raw and dried out- and he had no idea for just how long it was that that they'd been running. Now that they'd stopped, his heels hurt, too- he'd been wearing his fancier boots for the sake of showing off and looking a tad taller, he could only hope they hadn't got ruined in the rush.

... He'd left his change of clothes behind, huh. He supposed it was a good thing he'd only owned that laughably small amount of things, or it truly might have been a tragedy. His coin pouch was still at his side, by a miracle or maybe plain and simple good luck. His daggers and tome had remained safe under his vest, too. Lucky. The important things were intact. The objects and his own parts. He could let out a sigh of relief, in the face of that simple fact.

The boy he'd made off with was as short of breath as he himself- but definitely far more watchful and alert, despite the giant fallen tree that was no doubt covering them from all sides. But maybe he wasn't just fearful of the outside. His words confirmed that very thought.

Why had he said they were partners? Good fucking question. He was pretty sure his train of thought during their escape proved that he hadn't actually been all that selfless. Why? Just because...? Because he didn't hate the idea of playing hero? Because he'd been bored out of his mind and had run out of entertainment to be had from the town? Thing was- he clearly had not. This boy, for instance. He seemed like a riot. Kousuke just had to figure out what strings to play to get him to like him. ... Well, he'd saved his life, surely he liked him enough already? Ah, whatever.

"You seemed to be in a pinch," was what he settled on, desperately trying to keep the fatigue out of his voice. "And I suppose I was partly responsible." With a sigh, he finally stood up straight. ... The squirt was tall. Not as much as him, but definitely lankier than would have been convenient for a thief like him. Didn't seem like he'd easily go unnoticed. "I did watch you pick pockets among my hard earned crowds for weeks," he admitted. "I also didn't fail to notice that you always stopped to toss a coin, which- thanks, appreciated, glad you enjoyed the show."

... But that answer didn't quite satisfy him. "I simply didn't want to bear witness to injustice," he finally said. "Let's put it that way."

In an attempt to feel less awkward about his own musings, the man turned the question on his companion. "So, uh. What's your story, kid? Was today just not your best day, or?"

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

Masahiro clutched the script in his hands, trying not to crumple the thick sheaf of papers, but unable to keep his anxiety over this next part at bay. He had never been in this sort of situation, never been in a conversation as painful and awkward as this one. Well, that maybe wasn’t the truth, was it? Hadn’t he had a pretty bad blunder with Kousuke just an hour or so ago? Could he draw from that experience for the absolute awkwardness Makoto and Yoshiki were going through in this scene? It wasn’t exactly the same, but it definitely carried the same echoes of missing out on emotions that he probably should have understood.

“My feelings? What…” He hesitated, looked to Kousuke, looked away, and looked back. “What are you talking about? What face? I don’t understand what you mean, Yoshiki-san.”

But he did, and he knew that even if Makoto wanted to act like he didn’t know, he also did. After being pulled out of the house, away from anyone who could listen in, how could this not be a conversation about the longing he so clearly felt? Masahiro winced as he quickly scanned the next few lines. It was cruel what Yoshiki was about to do, how he was about to destroy this boy who looked up to him. Could their relationship ever be mended after something like that? 

If Kousuke, an actor who after one table read he was already looking up to, had said something like this to him, would he have ever been able to look him in the eye again? Masahiro couldn’t even imagine how this was supposed to be anything but a hard wall between the characters, a line in the sand that couldn’t and shouldn’t be crossed. He struggled to keep up his look of confusion, even while feeling the icy discomfort seep into him.

[kouslut]

If he hadn't been in the middle of acting out the single most important scene of that first episode, Kousuke might have swatted Masahiro's hands- mainly because seeing the paper get abused like that hurt him physically, partially because harm coming to the script was always a bad omen. In theatre, at least. Or so he'd been told by a girl he'd been with one time. One could really learn some incredible things if they paid enough attention to idle chatter during one night stands.

Still, the boy managed to play off his line well enough to dissipate the sheer ridiculousness of it, and the man couldn't help but to be thankful for at least that. Then again, the worst of it was yet to come... But if Masahiro could respond to it in the same desperately deadass way he'd managed for the first hit, then the awkwardness could be avoided. He just had to pray- because what he was about to say, with his actual mouth, to a room full of people now and to a busy tv slot's worth of people later, made him want to drop dead.

... Tsunehito was going to have a field day. Someone had cast him just to torture him personally, surely. Not to mention Masahiro. Masahiro looked like he couldn't have held prolonged eye contact with anyone in the room, let alone actually deal with that kind of interaction. ... Well. Kousuke's job was that of looking sexy and sounding like it, too. His job was that of pretending he was desirable and not some uni dropout who oftentimes forgot to do his laundry.

Still, someone needed to teach this Yoshiki guy how to actually flirt with people- preferably not one of the teenagers he seemed so fond of- because, fuck. Judging by the little they had in the script, he was the type to think that a: "Take your pants off," would have been enough to score a guy. And, having been on the other side of that, Kousuke could assure that he'd only gone along with it because he'd found it laughably pathetic. That and the guy had been cute- By which what he meant was that it was going to take some hella suspension of disbelief to make lines like that work. Ugh, he doubted it was going to get any better. In fact, he'd probably been cast because he was infamous for stuff like that- and because his fans seemed to be horniest he'd ever seen. ... Anything to get the ladies at home wet, he supposed.

"Really," he started with a venomously sweet kind of smile. "Makoto, do you really need me to say it outright? Here I was trying to be tactful." Without really thinking, he leaned further towards Masahiro, and tilted his head just enough to underline the sliminess of it all, while still getting to pass it off as the writer's idea of "sexiness" or whatever it was that they were actually trying to convey. "When you look at me like that," he started, progressively lowering his voice to a whisper. "I can tell you're really begging for me to fuck you."

A beat. No time for anyone to respond. And then again. A hum to make it sound like the conversation had been entirely innocent.

"Well," he proceeded to voice, predatory smile still on, tone now laid-back, only to suggest what was obviously not going to happen in a million years. "We should get back inside before someone gets the wrong idea."

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

The re-read of their previous scene went well, at least in Masahiro’s inexperienced opinion. The bittersweet back and forth, that only lightly hinted at an underlying ‘not so gentle’ yearning on Makoto’s part, drew him in even more this time. He could really resonate with that desire, that pull toward someone you looked up to. Even if it wasn’t right for either Makoto or Yoshiki, Masahiro couldn’t blame his character for craving the ability to be special to someone. Especially someone he clearly admired to this degree. Masahiro even found himself rooting for Makoto in his head, wishing him the best in his journey toward becoming important to the person he wanted it from most.

“A solution?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose a bit. “Like… not coming around anymore?”

Masahiro sighed inwardly as he read the next line. Perhaps he had the foresight of being able to read farther in the script, so was aware of what was coming, but he wanted to believe even he, with his limited amount of social understanding, would have known that Yoshiki wasn’t suggesting he alienate himself from his friends and chosen family. But, if he had been in the same situation, maybe he would have misunderstood. It wasn’t as though either he or Makoto had enough going for them that those suggestive words would have sounded like an offer of companionship rather than the opposite.

Makoto’s next words were meant to be rushed, apologetic and full of self-doubt, and Masahiro’s chest ached as he pushed them from his mouth. “I’m sorry if I’ve forced myself on you guys too much, Yoshiki-san. I guess I just felt comfortable with you and Tomoki. Ever since I met you both, I’ve felt like even the stuff that bothered me wasn’t so bad. You showed up in front of me and all my worries just sort of vanished. I figured if I had you…”

Desperation. Fear. The need to not lose the people he cared about, but not to seem too clingy either. It was painful to listen to, but even more painful to act out. He knew it was only the first episode, just the start of this complicated and all too real relationship, but he could feel his heart breaking for his character. Even if everything magically went the way he secretly hoped, it wasn’t as though he would be facing a lifetime of sunshine and roses.

[kouslut]

Despite knowing the script by heart, the drop of Makoto's response still made him want to pull his hair out. How the fuck was Yoshiki so enamoured with the guy, actually? Obtuse people were annoying to be around and even worse to flirt with. In combination with the age gap, that sure painted a picture regarding his character's personality. He did not like the guy a single bit. Yet here he was playing him flawlessly, if he did say so himself.

His only response to Makoto's obviously and frustratingly mistaken conclusion was that of a raised eyebrow, which, of course, only earned him another blurb of idiotic words from the kid. Seriously, he'd been a kid too, which person on the writing crew had decided that a human being could interpret Yoshiki's words to mean: "Fuck off," instead of the far louder and far more obvious: "Fuck me."

If he were Yoshiki, he'd have pulled the guy into his lap without any more words, probably. No, actually, he'd have tried a one liner about solutions... something like... "I've always been good at solving problems." ... Maybe not. Well, considering himself, it wouldn't have not worked, especially considering that he'd have been quick to shut them both up- but that didn't matter now. Yoshiki's course of action would have been that of dragging the boy out to have a private one on one conversation- which was admittedly the smarter thing to do.

The boy's words were a little heart-wrenching if he had to be honest. Too bad they were directed at living scum, and good thing this was nothing but a tv show- for Makoto, that is.

After an instant of glaring in silence, Kousuke raised his voice. "I'm borrowing Makoto for a second, don't set fire to my house!" he called out- all while, at least mentally, going through the motion of grabbing Masahiro by the arm and dragging him into the next sequence, into the corridor. "It's not your house!" came Tomoki's quick response. "Don't bully him too much!" Fukushige followed a split second after. Oh, they had no idea. Yoshiki's behaviour was definitely worse than simple bullying.

With that, however, the two characters were now alone. Still, the context called for their voices to be hushed. "Makoto," the man started, with a falsely reassuring smile on his face. "What exactly makes you think I'm proposing that you leave?" He sighed, for dramatic effect- and to give himself the time to theoretically lean in just that much closer. Without fully realizing it, he'd started to do just that physically as well. "You do have a point, though. I did let myself go a little around you," he meaninglessly explained, sounding annoyingly apologetic. "It was cute, how attached you'd become. I thought it was, at least. But I know what you were thinking earlier, while you looked at those two," he shamelessly insinuated. "And I'm afraid I need to put a stop to this before it goes too far. I can't reciprocate your feelings, Makoto. Much less that look you have on your face."

Ah- it was a struggle not break down laughing. He was going to deck Tsunehito in the face, later- he could see the fucker cover his mouth like he'd heard the cringiest bullshit on the planet- Well, he hadn't written the script. And, in the writers' defense, Makoto was 15. Any sweet sounding line would have worked on someone that young-

... That sure was a train of thought he'd managed to somehow end up on.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

@kouslut

The crowd was thick in the plaza, huddled tight together to catch a glimpse of the man performing near the fountain. Tall, dark haired and more than a little good looking, the performer barely had to do anything to command the attention of the crowd. Even so, his ability to juggle a set of daggers while not catching either his loose, puffy sleeves, or the folds of his trousers was incredibly impressive. Usually, Masahiro wouldn’t let his attention wander when given an opportunity as rich as this, but the performer was incredibly distracting. And surprisingly well dressed.

He wound in and out of the crowd with his hood covering his face, slipping his hand into bags, using his dagger to subtly cut purse strings and add it all to the growing loot in the bag hidden underneath his cloak. Evening performances like this were the perfect pickings for a thief like him. The sky was just beginning to darken, lamps were very slowly being lit, and because of the difficulty seeing the action in the fading light, the congregating mass weren’t paying any attention to other people in the crowd. Given his thin frame and quick hands, he could slip in and out of the masses before a performance was over.

Unfortunately, Masahiro couldn’t manage to take his eyes off the juggler. His handsome face, that small beauty mark that drew in his eye with an inexplicable pull, the fluid motion of his hands, even the way he laughed as the audience cheered for him, all of it drew the young thief’s eyes and tripped him up. He was pulled in against his will, and it made him sloppy.

As the performer added another blade to his rotation, drawing gasps and more cheers from the crowd, Masahiro fumbled with a coin purse, nicking his fingers with the blade and stumbling into the man whose purse he had in his hands. He tried to mumble an apology and move on, but the man looked down at him and must have noticed the coin purse he hadn’t managed to slide into his bag yet. Masahiro panicked, trying to slip into the crowd and flee, but the man was quick, and strong, and grabbed his arm and held him in place.

“Don’t try to get away after stealing from me, whelp,” the man growled, tightening his hand around Masahiro’s upper arm. “I’ll demand your hands for this!”

Pure adrenaline rushed through him at the man’s words. He had always known that it was a possibility to lose his hands living on the streets the way he did, but actually coming face to face with the threat of it had him feeling like a rat being hunted by a cat at the end of an alley. He tugged his arm hard, trying to slip from the man’s grasp. The force of his pull had him stumble into yet another member of the crowd, and then another. As attention began to turn from the man juggling daggers to him, Masahiro found himself crying out in a voice strained with stress.

“Let me go! I’ll give it back!”

“No one steals from me,” the man shouted. “Empty your bag right now!”

Masahiro looked around frantically, desperate for help but knowing none would come. He was a petty thief who had been caught. Only sixteen years old and already facing his end. If only he hadn’t been so distracted, so sloppy. He cursed the attraction of the performer and his own ability to keep his head.

[kouslut]

It was an evening like any other- any other since he'd come to the city, that was. The routine that had come to repeat itself day after day since after just a week from the moment he'd decided to stop there had only perpetuated its now almost soporiferous cycle: just as he would have any other day, he'd come to claim his spot at the fountain in the late afternoon, sat there for a while, exchanged meaningful and meaningless looks with the passerby, read a little, tossed up coins just to see whether they'd land tails or heads and estimated the flow of his luck in the ever-changing tide of chance by keeping track of the times probability had been on his side.

The numbers suggested it was going to be an extraordinarily good day. Judging by the amount of alcohol that was distinctly not in his system, by the stickily humid air of the evening, by the slimy boredom that had climbed up his body along with a very, very annoying ant, Kousuke really wouldn't have thought that. But oh, well, what did he have to believe in if not numbers? The one true thing that made the world go round, be it in the shape of money or the laws that commanded the behaviours of all things, living and not? The night was going to end well. That was his one and only certainty.

It was with that thought in mind that he'd stood up from his spot on the pavement, with that reassuring knowledge that he'd pulled out his most trusted dagger, the one Tsunehito had gifted him almost a decade before, and begun calling out for the nightly audience to gather.

He'd tossed up his blade, up above the highest jet of the fountain, and had easily caught it in his left only to reveal two more already placed between his fingers. And that was simply his warm-up, just the routine he'd found to get himself in the mood for what was to come, to quiet the nerves he really figured should have long died by that point. But it always worked like a charm: as the dagger came down, as he caught it in his fist, his mind and thoughts always all shut up at once, and then he wasn't himself anymore- in his place there was someone whose one and only joy was entertaining whomever would watch. Gone was Ohshiba Kousuke, in was the jester he'd made of himself.

With the proudest of smiles, he'd announced his presence as he did every night. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, if I may have your attention-" he shouted to the fading light of day turning to dusk. "Let this fool brighten up your night."

And then it had started as it always, and as always he'd begun to laugh before he could even fully process that he'd started to enjoy himself and the mindlessness of the act of dancing with those daggers that had all but become his sole friends, more than just tools, more than just props. Ten in total, basically a set of extra fingers. But he only ever juggled up to five, at least in public- it would have been real pathetic to actually get something cut off for good just because he'd wanted to brag and show-off. He was sure many among the public could vouch for just how essential every part of his body was. They'd come back to see him night after night, after all.

There, in the first row, he could see the girl he'd pretended to be drunk with. Just a few meters behind her, a guy who'd waited until well after the end of the show to invite him to have a drink. And then a man he'd seen come in while he'd been hiding under someone's bed, a woman whose dog had barked at him all night, a boy who'd told him all about cross-breeding peas before inviting him into his house, and then more, and more people whose name he hadn't even asked, people he was bound to forget all about in just a day or two.

And he was there, too, the little thief always scuttling about and watching him with bated breath between a pocket picked and a wallet nicked, the moocher with big eyes and no spark in them at all until his gaze fell upon the shiny daggers that Kousuke carried and juggled. A kindred spirit, that was what he was. A vagabond with no place to be and a hole in his pockets as much as his spirit. Someone who stole from others in order to see the next day. So long as he wouldn't get caught, there would be no issue at all, as far as the man was concerned: he wasn't going to pretend he had a sense of morality to stick to, definitely not one that called for private property to remain as such. He'd slept with a few married people too many to even remotely believe in something like that.

With a smirk on his face, and his eyes following the rapid movements of the young thief who'd not long before become his regular, Kousuke tossed up a fourth dagger.

And that was when everything went awry.

The boy's hand caught on something, he wasn't sure. But something happened. An elder was alerted. And there came the dreaded call. “Don’t try to get away after stealing from me, whelp!” resounded a loud voice, like the roar of a beast. “I’ll demand your hands for this!” Calls of: "Thief!" and screamed curses filled the square in no time- and Kousuke barely had a fast enough reaction time to catch all the falling blades before he let an accident occur.

So much for good luck. God fucking dammit- did the squirt really have to go and get himself caught? What, had he been so dazzling he'd become distracted with him? He'd been at it for like a month- how in the hell had he actually managed to lose his touch now of all times? Yet he couldn't idly stand by as he watched the guy try and wiggle his arm free of the man's iron grip and desperately scan the crowd for the eyes of someone, anyone who might come to his aid. The guy looked like upper middle class, no doubt a respected citizen and- Ah, fuck. The boy really was going to get his hands cut off at that rate. He really was.

Before Kousuke's legs could freeze over from the dread the scene inspired in him, he forced himself to speak up. In was the jester, he'd said. There was no fear to be had, because this wasn't him. It was a street performer whose identity could be tossed away on a whim. He could say whatever he wanted. He was but a fool.

"Now, now, sir," he called out as loud as he could manage. No tremble was in his voice. Good. All eyes were on him again. Not quite as good. "I'm sure a compromise can be reached, the boy hasn't stolen anything yet, has he?" "My purse was in his hands, insolent fool!" the man instantly barked back. "Or do you want me to consider you accomplices?"

Fuck- fuck- fuck- that wasn't really how it was supposed to go, but, surely- Wait, accomplices. He could make that work. It would mean giving up on the comfort he'd found in this place, but it was that or letting a literal child bleed out on the streets or die of infection if not and- Agh. Fuck it. He had no honour to defend. He'd given up on comfort and riches already. He had nothing to lose.

He allowed his confounded smile to widen to a guilty grin. "Shame I should be found out on a beautiful night such as this," he mocked, hoping it would be the slightest bit convincing. "Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you let go of my associate." The crowd erupted into a cacophony of gasps and miscellaneous insults and profanities. Music to his ears. He took a step forward. A man whose coin pouch he'd watched be taken away moved to stop him. Entirely on reflex, Kousuke pulled his dagger out again.

The way the man jumped back reminded him of the fact that he did, in fact, hold power over most members of the common folk. If he could just get it over with before the guards came, then... Yes, it would work.

"You've watched me juggle them for weeks, sirs," he threatened, now high on adrenaline, staring right at the man holding the boy captive. "I do believe you will trust my word when I say dancing for an audience isn't all these blades can do." The man barked an insult he didn't even manage to understand. "Now, let me ask again," Kousuke insisted, taking to spinning another dagger in his second hand, mostly just for show. "Could you please let go of that boy?" Finally, the man gave. Inwardly, the performer sighed in relief- just for an instant. Then he moved forward, and forward still, watching the crowd part around him in fear. He wasn't going to actually have to hurt anyone. Good.

Kousuke put away his second dagger to hold out a hand towards the boy. "Well, partner," he called loudly, for all to hear. "We best be on our-"

"Wait- you're that guy!" The man's attention was suddenly called elsewhere. Some guy was shouting. The guy he'd caught a glimpse of while hiding just a few nights before. Oof. "You're the guy I found in my wife's chambers!"

Kousuke found himself laughing incredulously. The coin had most definitely failed to do its job- if this was good luck, he only had the gallows to look forward to. A cry of: "Get them!" rang out. The man stopped thinking entirely, and only thought to grab the boy's arm before he sprinted off as fast as he could.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

The longer the read ran on, the more Masahiro found himself getting pulled in. The energy of the other cast members, the entertaining dialogue and the absolutely captivating smile of his co-star had him more excited about this project than he had been since he had gotten the call letting him know he had been cast. With this group, he had no doubt that the drama would be a success. Even if he had no experience to base that belief off of.

He frowned at Kousuke, acting as though his words had hit a nerve. “I wasn’t that small, Yoshiki-san. Stop treating me like I was another stray you picked up with Koshi that night.”

“Aww, looks like the loyal dog is trying to bite the hand that feeds him,” Fukushige teased mercilessly, laughing behind his hand at the two of them.

“I’m the one that feeds everyone,” Masahiro muttered, a little more ire in his voice than his previous lines. After all, Makoto did so much for the others only to be called Yoshiki’s dog. It was demeaning and Masahiro felt bad for him. Thankfully for Makoto, he had Tomoki as his best friend, and the energetic young man had his back.

“You know, back when Haruma and I had our falling out, I was in a pretty bad place. After we took in Kosihikari, Makoto came by a lot to check on him and we just kind of became friends. It didn’t fix everything, but it helped a lot. So, Haruma… can’t you be nice to him?”

Tomoki and Haruma shared a long, soft look and then Haruma sighed. “Okay.”

The other boys cheered, but Makoto just watched them with a slightly bittersweet look. He was happy for them… he was. But he also wanted what they had. This was the scene that the audition piece had mentioned in vague terms. Now that he was seeing the whole backstory come together, it was easy to see exactly how the character of Makoto would feel while watching the two boys sort of reaffirm the relationship they had. Obviously, not having that sort of connection himself, and even watching the friendship he had built with Tomoki be overridden by their reunion? It was painful, even as he was happy for them.

Or at least that is what he gleaned from the situation.

After a bit more back and forth, the script caught up to the audition pages and Masahiro felt a small sense of deja vu at acting the scene out in front of the other gathered actors. Even more so than his audition, knowing exactly what led to the conversation that Makoto and Yoshiki shared on the sofa in the middle of the mess of boys, Masahiro was able to really give the scene his all. He just hoped that with his new insight, Kousuke was even just a little impressed with him too.

[kouslut]

Makoto's almost offended retort to Yoshiki's size comment felt just right- childish as only a call of: "Don't treat me like a kid!" could be- and laughing in response was only natural, so much so that he had to mask the movement he made to pull a cigarette that wasn't there from between his lips as a simple hand gesture, something like a coy attempt at covering up his smirk.

The following line took the focus off him again- and so he elected to lean his head on his hand, like he was just intently listening and reading the room as he waited for any reaction he found interesting enough to respond to.

Loyal dog. It wasn't untrue. The relationship between the characters was definitely one of dependency as far as he could tell, with Yoshiki only doing his utmost to ensure that didn't change. And Kousuke could see Masahiro playing the part of the dog well enough, he had that sort of energy to him, that unseen tail wag that made itself known every time one's attention would fall upon him. He himself was no different. He'd succeeded in the field for a reason, after all.

He felt a sort of disappointment come to curb his giddiness as Tomoki spoke up, even though he'd known all along that that was how the scene would go, partly because that was what his role called for, partly because he was rather enjoying the struggle and the push and pull between Masahiro and the rest of the cast. That sort of friendly fire felt familiar and comfortable, while Tomoki's little friendship speech threw him off-beat. Again, Yoshiki probably expected to be the only one who'd get to take Makoto's side, at the very last second. It seemed that the little brother could easily throw a wrench in a dumb manipulatory stunt such as that. Obviously.

That bit was his cue again- not to talk, however, not for anything that could really count in a read-through like that. That bit was when the camera would zero in on a very close up of Masahiro's longing expression and then a close up of himself taking notice while the others chattered on. And so turn to look at his co-lead he did. Sure enough, the boy was acting the bit out also.

Longing for a deeper human connection, something which other people, even someone you'd thought to be incredibly close to you seemed to have easily obtained without even trying all that hard. An almost stupidly easy feeling to understand and recreate. An almost stupidly easy feeling to notice in someone one is looking to take advantage of.

What would follow, as he very well knew, was the cut to that same interaction they'd gone over during Masahiro's audition. There was hardly a need to get antsy there: he knew it would go over just as smoothly, if not all the more so now that it was fully contextualized.

And so it started, once again. "Makotooo! C'mere. I need your opinion on this."

As expected, there was more confidence in the boy's act where there hadn't been any before- there was the conviction of someone who'd done it before. If not for the situation, he'd have liked to call that alluring. The exchange felt natural- and Kousuke might have as well actually been sitting on a couch. He felt cockier than usual, too, if he had to be honest.

Faster than he could quite realized, the part of the script they'd acted out before came to an end. "Though, if it really does bother you, I'm sure we can find a solution of sorts," he found himself suggestively saying for the second and certainly not last time.

The rest of the cast seemed pretty taken with their interaction. As they should be. And he was quite eager to see how the boy would handle the rest, too.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

Masahiro was immersed in the script by this point. It was so easy to slide into the head of this character, one who he understood on such a deep level, and read the words out as something he might have said. The interactions with Kaito, who was playing Tomoki, were more fun than he would have expected, and he felt almost like he was conversing with someone he could become friendly with. The other young man was quick and funny with his lines, raising his voice when appropriate and laughing as though the world around him was made of pure enjoyment. More than the gang members, Masahiro felt like he was really eager to work with him going forward.

And then, when Kousuke’s character, Yoshiki, finally appeared, he felt his heart begin to race in his chest. The real meat of the story, their first meeting and everything that came after it… everyone in the room would finally get to see what he had experienced during his audition. It was almost as though he had entered a dream as he watched Kousuke deliver his lines with derision, and he wondered what other expressions he might get to see cross that beautiful face. What words would fall from those lips? Somehow he had the opportunity to sit next to him and watch it all happen in real time. He felt like he was already learning so much from him and all the other actors around the table.

When Tomoki and the other boys laughed at the story being told of how Makoto had become Yoshiki’s underling, Masahiro grimaced in response. “You would have been terrified too! He had blood on his face, for crying out loud!” And then he turned to face Kousuke and glared at him, though his embarrassment won out in the end. “Stop teasing me, Yoshiki-san! You know that I was only that scared because Tomoki was telling me all those horror stories about you beating people up! What was I supposed to think?”

Lighthearted banter between a close group of friends. Banter that he participated in while at the same time making sure everyone’s bowls were filled and no one needed anything more from him. Makoto was at the table, part of the conversation, but still just a little on the outside even so. His focus was everyone else and their comfort before his own. Even as the other men at the table harassed him, he took care of all their needs. Masahiro wondered if it was because he felt as though he didn’t really belong, so he needed to make himself useful in order to have a place. 

“Isn’t this story just a way to brag about how close you are with Tomoki, even all these years later?” Hasekura/Haruma said with an icy glare toward Masahiro. “The two of you are so close and have so many years of memories together.”

“W-wait…” Masahiro said, holding up his hands as if to ward away the daggers that were being sent his way. “We aren’t that close…”

He couldn’t help glancing toward Kousuke and begging for his help in deflecting the situation.

[kouslut]

The interaction felt somehow familiar, cozy, even, as he listened to his fellow actors play off one another and deliver their lines like they meant it. It was almost incredible how just a little bit of conviction could sell a lie well enough to make anyone and everyone think that the mismatched group of strangers they were was actually a tight-knit friend group. If Kousuke hadn't known it, if he hadn't been part of it and in the business for long enough to know just about every trick in the book, he might have believed it himself. Hell, even the younger Hasekura, who was about as picky as they came, didn't seem to have any complaints to voice or nonverbally express by glaring in no particular direction.

As for Masahiro, he made Kousuke want to slide down onto his chair and laugh wholeheartedly. Panicky as only a genuinely anxious person could sound. And, to him, absolutely hilarious. The guy struggled with actual conversations, but, when going off a script, he seemed to manage to be more nonchalant- or, rather, somehow more believable. He supposed that having his lines written out carried the advantage of not having to put his brain to work to come up with them himself.

Overthinking was a trait the real life actor probably shared with the character he played. Much like the young master was playing a deadpan rifle of unbridled jealousy and selfishness. Much like Tsunehito was playing a carefree dumbass. Much like he himself was playing the scum of the earth. Funny how that worked, huh? It did help in making his laughter ring out more true with every begging look a now very animated Masahiro was throwing his way. He was an asshole who enjoyed seeing the guy he supposedly liked squirm and beg for his help. He could see not few people icily remarking that he did, indeed, fit the role to a T. Once again, that only made his smile grow wider.

A blunt jab from Haruma and, finally, his cue. Begging indeed, puppy eyes and all. Masahiro's expression was admittedly convincing regardless of the veil of pretense it so proudly wore. And Kousuke was happy to intervene.

"Hey, now," he started, initially smirking at Makoto, only for his gaze to shift to the boy sitting all the way across the table, accompanied by an accusatory finger. Ah, did he ever enjoy adding in some dramatic flare. Playing assholes sure did wonders for his nerves. "Stay in your lane, vixen. Harassing this one requires a permit." The younger Hasekura narrowed his eyes at him in a way that was so familiar it was almost laughable- as Yoshiki, however, the man only further leaned forward, challenging that cold stare. "A permit," the other repeated with distaste. "Written by you, I suppose?" Kousuke shrugged. "He's the one who begged to be taken under my wing, you know?" he chuckled. "Weren't you listening." The boy hissed back at him.

"Well," the man continued with a sigh of finality, turning towards Masahiro again to smile gently in his direction. "He is right that it's been a few years now. You've like- doubled in size since that first time." How distasteful, saying something like that to a kid only to imply some sort of ulterior motive. But he could do disgusting well enough, he was certain of that.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

From the moment that the remaining cast and crew came into the room, the mood once again seemed to change. The casual friendliness that had filled the hall quieted, and a serious hush fell over the room. The time for pleasantries had come to an end, and it was clearly time to start the actual business of production.

For his part, Masahiro couldn't help but lean forward a bit and take it all in. Having no expectations for what was about to happen, he was able to listen and soak it up like a sponge. Even if he hadn't particularly been interested in show business before, he was here now, it was new, and it was more interesting than he would have thought to see just how many people were making this project a reality.

While the director and his team were giving their introductions and welcoming the cast, a young member of the crew was walking around inside the tables and handing out scripts. Masahiro took his with a smile and a quiet thank you, and then let his attention drift to thumbing through the first few pages. Surprisingly, his character had a small monologue at the beginning, which meant that he would be the one to start the whole cast off during the table read. Nerves settled into the pit of his stomach, making him wonder if he could really set the mood for the entire cast. If he didn't do it right, would everyone think he had been incorrectly cast?

He read over the short monologue a few times, hoping that he could do it justice. Before he could turn to Kousuke and ask for his opinion though, the man was standing up with a wide smile and giving his own introduction.

Dammit. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had almost missed out on what was going on around him!

Masahiro reached for one of the pens that was lined up at the head of the table and uncapped it. As Kousuke gave his short introduction, Masahiro managed to scrawl the man's name next to the short description of his character "Yoshiki" that was was on the first page of the script. There were so many people here that if he didn't start matching names with characters, he'd never remember who everyone was. Not that he could possibly forget who Kousuke was, but he figured it would be strange if someone looked at his script later and saw that the man's name was the only one missing.

Once Kousuke sat down, there was a moment of silence before Masahiro realized that it must be his turn to introduce himself. He stood quickly, grabbing his chair so that it didn't fall over in his haste. "I'm Setagawa Masahiro, and I'll be playing Makoto..." He paused for a moment, wondering what he should say to the room full of people staring at him. Kousuke had warned him not to say anything that would make people look down on him, so he fumbled to find something appropriate that wouldn't make him seem too pathetic. "I may be just starting out, but I hope you'll all lend me your experience so I can do this role justice."

He sat back down, hoping his cheeks weren't as red as he was worried they were. It had sounded okay in his head, but once they words were out of his mouth they came across terribly cheesy. He fought a groan and reached for his pen again, determined to at least get everyone's names down so he didn't have to keep asking Kousuke who people were.

By the time they had gone around the room and everyone had done their introductions, Masahiro had a mess of scribbled names and small details written down for almost everyone. Tsunehito, Kousuke's friend, was cast in the role of a police detective who was friends with Yoshiki. The young men he had noticed when he had walked into the room were Yamabe and Fukushige, and they were going to be two of Makoto's close friends. Another young man about his age (whom Masahiro had noticed sliding into the room with the director's team) was named Hasekura and would be playing Haruma, another school friend. He had tossed both Kousuke and Tsunehito strangely annoyed looks after his introduction, as if expecting them to comment. Masahiro had marked that down as well, figuring he would ask Kousuke if he knew Hasekura later.

Before he knew it, before he was ready, the introductions had come to a close and it was time to begin the reading of the first script. The director mentioned briefly that it didn't need to be perfect and they were only getting a feel for the flow of the first episode, but Masahiro could feel his heart pounding in his chest. More than anything else, he didn't want anyone to wonder why he had been cast. He wanted to prove that he belonged there just as much as anyone else who was sitting at the groups of tables. But mostly, he didn't want Kousuke to look at him the way he had earlier in the hallway... as though he had no idea how this pathetic kid had managed to be in this line of work.

There was a rustling of paper as everyone reached for their scripts and got ready for the read. The director nodded at him and Masahiro took in a deep breath and began the monologue that would be the first line of the show.

"Ever since I was a kid, I have always hated super hero shows. The super sentai heroes, masked rangers, and everything Tokusatsu. No matter how hard my life was, or what monsters or villains showed up to tear me down, a hero would never save me. Not me. That's what I always believed..."

The words came out raw and emotional. Masahiro pulled from his own childhood, thinking back to Kindergarten and Primary school where other children would talk about their parents as though they were heroes just for existing. He remembered his mother being late to pick him up almost every day until he was finally old enough that his teachers relented and let him walk home alone. From his earliest memories he had always taken care of himself, with no one there to lend him a hand. Heroes didn't exist then, and now he was old enough to know that they never would.

Makoto was almost too easy to play.

[kouslut]

When Kousuke sat back down, Masahiro seemed to fumble with his pen for a moment, as if he was being caught off guard and, for a terrible, dreadful instant, the man feared he might end up witnessing the first proper public gaffe of the day, one he'd have felt a little too deeply, if only because he was sitting directly next to the guy, though maybe it had more to do with the fact that he didn't want the boy to make a bad impression at all, to the point that he felt that any mistake on his part would have been his own burden to bear. Really, he needed to learn to get that part of himself under control- it wasn't his responsibility. Much to his relief, however, none of that ended up being the case, because Masahiro stood up, if only a little hastily, and spoke in a tone that was about as professional as it was... well, for lack of a better word, cute. He'd successfully managed to earn himself small: "Look how respectful this youngling is," and "What a nice young man," smiles from most of the seniors, an intrigued raise of the eyebrows from Tsunehito and a generally good response from cast and crew alike. Natural and simple- indeed. The best of choices, no doubt, and not something that hid his actual inexperience either.

The young master, who'd walked into the room about as late as Kousuke had come to expect, on the other hand, had hardly even raised his gaze from the script in front of him, surely in the hopes that he might avoid any needless interaction with both Kousuke himself and his brother-in-law, who happened to be none other than Tsunehito. Indeed, working all together like that was going to be... an experience. The younger Hasekura wasn't very fond of either of the two men, not as far as Kousuke could tell, anyways, and Tsunehito had already demonstrated that he wasn't going to make keeping personal matters out of the workplace easy- damn internet entertainers thinking they can get away with anything so long as it gets turned into a meme or they apologize afterwards.

Suppressing the smirk that had arisen to his face, Kousuke looked away from the others in favour of dropping his gaze to his script, and Masahiro's right beside it. But, yet again, he found himself doing a double take. The boy was actually... annotating the names of each actor alongside their roles on the paper- at the very top, the man could see his own name beside that of Yoshiki. That was... a thing for sure. Was Masahiro afraid that he might forget other people's names? To the extent that he'd note them down? Because, the thing was, they were all going to- nobody was going to remember the names of those who weren't big shots already, not from the get-go. The fact that he was showing that much care for something like that was kind of... well, polite to a stupid extent. And a pretty adorable one, but that was besides the point and- well, no it wasn't. He was among the ones whose brain had been contaminated with the "nice young man" thought, so he did find that display of commitment to the act to be not only endearing as fuck, but enviable, too. So he resolved to actually listen to the introductions as opposed to following his usual routine of daydreaming about some random thing until the time came for the actual action.

Introduction after introduction, the cast all gave their little speeches- many actors seemed to be on their first gig, which was... nice, actually. For Masahiro, certainly- he was going to find some kindred spirits whom he could actually connect to when it came to inexperience- and for him, too. He liked people who hadn't had the time to be saturated with that plasticky sludge that seemed to slowly replace every single performer's mind and body when given enough time- he liked people who were fresh and felt like people rather than cogs in the entertainment machine. People like Masahiro, admittedly.

Tsunehito's turn came and went with only one stupid innuendo and a total of two winks, one in Kousuke's direction, the other in the young master's, who instead took his chance to glare at both the men after giving his speech, as if that could be enough to put them in their place. They were meddlers at heart, one a force of chaos, the other one of curiosity and sheer insistence- and the boy was not about to get out of anything unscathed. So, when their eyes met, Kousuke simply held the gaze with a smirk and inwardly wondered whether he could somehow manage to make everyone a favour and force a sort of friendship upon the two boys he happened to know. It was going to have to wait- and he didn't really quite want to make a mess of the human relationships on the show, so, for the moment being, he was going to let the thought marinate. Still, he didn't dislike the idea: a friend for the young master who was not his brother. Almost too good to be true.

As he lost himself in his musings, the round came to an end, and the director soon began to announce that they'd start on the read-through. Finally. That was what they were actually there for- at least in Kousuke's eyes, to get a taste of what acting with the faceless mass of other members of the cast would be like, to gauge how things would go and adapt accordingly, to earn himself some well-deserved looks of awe and approval as he did one of the few things he was now certain he did well: act out the part of a person he wasn't.

He's read through the script a number of times by that point, he'd mostly memorized the flow of it, he knew his cues, he'd guessed what his timing should be, he'd imagined what the actual situation should look like to appear believable, what emotions were appropriate to express. He also knew how that first episode started- and he knew Masahiro was going to be the one to lead them into it with a short monologue. He felt a little bad, admittedly. It wasn't quite fair to have the rookie start, but, somehow, maybe because he could see just how scrupulously the boy had been revising his parts even during the meeting itself, just how determined and focused he looked while he readied himself, he wasn't the slightest bit scared that he might actually fuck it up.

Normally, he didn't really have faith in others, mostly because he couldn't control them and he often found that their level was lacking in respect to his- which was not a matter of boasting, really, just the reality of things, strangely enough- and all he could ever do was damage control. But he doubted that was going to be necessary there, for whatever reason. Maybe it was the lingering positive impression from the audition, maybe that the boy had managed thus far and simply seemed to be doing well on his own despite Kousuke's worst fears- maybe it was nothing at all.

The man's eyes remained firm on Masahiro as he nodded, no doubt in response to the director's go-ahead, and subsequently opened his mouth to begin his reading.

Good. It was good. Good enough to seem like something he was actually saying rather than reading out from someone else's words, and that was just about all one could have wanted from any good actor- to see a character portrayed so realistically that one hardly even had the thought to praise the actor doing it. Nobody would, of course, expect a fellow actor. And, as a fellow actor, Kousuke was indeed impressed- enough for yet another smirk sneak up on his face, one that simply wanted to express both satisfaction and the pride that he felt in thinking that, yes, he hadn't been mistaken that first time, the kid really was good and he was going to have the time of his fucking life on the production. There would be no babying his co-lead to get him to act as he should. And the man was going to get to do whatever the hell he wanted, too.

The scene went on for a little, between the characters of Makoto, a bunch of extras that served as the gang he hung out with, and, finally, Tomoki, Yoshiki's brother. Hearing the two boys interact, even just verbally over a conference table felt heartwarming- it felt like listening in on his actual brother's conversations with his friends as he so often had, it felt like he was witnessing someone making his first friend for real, just to his right. Masahiro was good. He really was going to make this work despite all the uncertainty he'd shown before; if not for the fact that Kousuke could tell when others were lying well enough, he'd have thought he was being tricked into thinking he was a newbie.

The sudden surge of panic between the boys announced the coming of his cue and, entirely out of habit, the man raised his hand to his mouth and sat back as he crossed his legs. "Hah?" he began loudly and obnoxiously, and about as laid back as a tired man might be after an active night out. "Whose outfits are weird, exactly?" The scream that followed, coming from Tomoki and Makoto both, was enough to make him snort just as his character would have. Silly children acting out their silly shenanigans, being scared of some loser who acted too young for his age. Well- considering the direction the plot was going to take, they weren't all that wrong. "Who's this?" he continued with something of a derisive tone. "Can't believe you brought in someone just to talk shit about me, To."

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

As the man doubled down on his relationship with Kousuke, Masahiro found himself growing increasingly uncomfortable. He wanted to dart, to run as far away as he was able, even if it was only to the open door a few feet away. Even if neither of the men said it, he was clearly intruding on their… well, whatever it was they had together. Whether they were friends, partners, lovers, it didn’t really matter much. The point was that they were clearly close, and Masahiro was a very awkward third wheel. He had walked in on his mother and her clients enough to know when he was in the way, and he definitely knew it now. Strangely, even though the situations weren’t really the same, it didn’t change how he felt at seeing something intimate happening before his eyes.

He hated it.

Before the jealousy and discomfort could fully show on his face, Masahiro gave another meek attempt to slip out politely and then turned on his heel and rushed for the door as quickly as he could manage without appearing rude. Thankfully, no one seemed to pay him any mind once he left Kousuke’s side, so he slid into the room with a minimum amount of stares. 

Unfortunately, once he was in the room he came upon another issue… he had no idea where he was supposed to sit. Was it assigned seating? Could he just sit in a corner and hope everyone would ignore him until they started introductions? It would have been so much easier if there had been some kind of name cards or something to indicate how it worked. Did everyone else just know what they were supposed to do? He watched as two guys about his age walk in and take seats on the right of the table, chatting and laughing quietly together. He rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, wondering if he should walk over and ask, when Kousuke came into the room and tapped his shoulder.

How did this man always know when he was struggling? How did he manage to sweep in to his rescue at just the right time? Now, and during the audition when he had clued him into the real story going on between the characters. Was this just the kind of person he was, willing to rush in and help at the drop of a hat? Or was he just particularly pathetic enough that the man felt like he had to lend a hand?

When he apologized about his friend, Masahiro wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Part of him wished that he could just say he understood and it was all good, but he didn’t understand. Never having had a friend close enough to joke (he assumed they had been joking by Kousuke’s reactions but still wasn’t entirely sure) around with, he couldn’t say that it was fine. He felt like he had somehow been the butt of the jokes without fully understanding why. Maybe because he was always worried about that sort of thing, that he was on the outside looking in and others could not only tell, but thought it was humorous. He doubted it was actually the case and was just his social anxiety cropping up, but it still didn’t feel great. He wondered if he’d ever be able to interact with someone like Kousuke’s friend without feeling at least slightly uncomfortable.

“It’s okay,” he lied with a smile, “it seems like you guys have been friends for a long time. I hope I didn’t insult him, I just wasn’t sure what to say.”

Could he be any more awkward?

Instead of trying to explain himself more and digging himself into an even bigger hole, he went and sat next to Kousuke at the table. Now that he was actually sitting at the table, he could feel a small spark of excitement begin to grow inside him. He was actually here, sitting with a whole cast and crew, getting ready for a real project. It wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some hallucination brought on by hunger, or even some scam by his sketchy agent. Somehow, someway, he had actually been cast in this drama and it was getting started. 

Masahiro turned to Kousuke, a wondrous smile on his lips. He wanted to ask if it was really okay that he was there, but having already made such a fool of himself earlier, he just let out a soft laugh as he gazed down at the script on the table. “Thank you for this morning. You could have laughed at me, but you’ve been a huge help. I really am looking forward to working on this project with you. Really.”

[kouslut]

He hated it- he hated having to feel bad about things that were hardly his fault or his responsibility, he hated seeing other people in discomfort or distress and, most of all, he hated that he could never, for the life of him, just leave it the fuck alone. He always had. And on some level he was aware that all of his insistence and friendliness that morning had had nothing to do with Masahiro being his co-lead and everything to do with his need to feed his own ego so he could reach the end of the day, sink his head face-first into his unwashed and at that point straight up dirty pillow and not hope to suffocate into it just so he would not have to repeat the usual routine on the following morning. Just so he could have some form of comfort, something that would allow him to think that somehow he wasn't only contributing to a vicious cycle, but a virtuous one, too.

And that was exactly why hearing the boy's little excuse, his very obvious lie regarding the brief but... uh... intense exchange with Tsunehito almost set him off. "I hope I didn't insult him." Because Kousuke and Tsunehito both clearly had had the tact to think that about him. Of course it wasn't actually his own fault, but the man was still quite upset by the idea that he had contributed to making the kid actually leave out of awkwardness. And on top of that... he could definitely sense something heavy there, some unsaid but evidently implied envy of sorts that- once again, despite not having done anything actually wrong, or having anything to actually apologize for- made him feel outright guilty.

But what was he going to do? Pretend he was also some rookie who knew nobody on set just so Masahiro could have someone he might relate to? With some effort, Kousuke might have achieved that, yes, but what would the point even have been? To get some boy to feel a little more at ease? He was nice, yes, he was pretty good for the role he'd been cast for, he was... not entirely terrible as a conversationalist and definitely more than a little funny to have around. Still not worth the hassle of pretending to be insecure and friendless on top of the ongoing pretense of decency he was already barely upkeeping (major thanks to Tsunehito on that front, once again). They already probably had one thing they shared, to be fair- though he wasn't actually about to fully admit to it, not even to himself. Seemed like going a step too far for his caffeinated rather than inebriated self.

The thing was that, when he actually opened his mouth to respond to the words with some half-assed reassurance while they headed to their unofficially pre-assigned seats, he found he wasn't all that insincere, much to his own surprise. He might have normally been irritated at Masahiro for reacting in a way that forced him to feel bad, but he simply wasn't. Not more than he was at his best friend. "No, I get it," he muttered. "He's in a league of his own, for sure. It'd have been stranger if you'd managed to actually talk to him. I'd say very few are genuinely fond of him." Which, of course, went for himself, too. But that hardly needed to be said or known- Tsunehito was just someone who wore his worst traits on his sleeve. Kousuke was the exact opposite. The fact that they got along simply said a lot about both, a lot more than either was willing to actually express in words.

The boy was quick to change registers, and a minute later, after a great dose of observation of his surroundings and soon-to-be colleagues, he was already smiling like a child. And then the reason why Kousuke hadn't actually felt any ill will seemed obvious. The guy was really just kind of adorable in both how expressive he was and how unaware of that fact he seemed to be. He didn't look like a cast member, but rather like he was someone's little brother who dreamed to one day work in the industry and had been brought along for a day after months of begging. He looked so genuinely happy it was disarming. And Kousuke very much did not mind sitting next to that, even knowing full well how equally disarmingly awkward the guy could be.

He very much didn't mind being thanked either. Maybe he was in too good a mood, honestly.

He suppressed a laugh as he responded to the candid gratitude of the other. It felt undeserved, admittedly, but still very much appreciated. And he couldn't but be glad that he'd succeeded in one of his objectives: that of making a good impression. Along the way, it seemed he'd been charmed a little, too, but he could live with that. He'd known from the start that he tended to gravitate towards those with, uh. Situations, to put it nicely. And that he tended to take to them more quickly, too.

"Not at all," he smiled. "I mean it. We're co-leads, I just happen to have more on-hands experience. Helping out is only natural." Whether Masahiro would believe that or not was up to him. Of course it wasn't common, but some actors could be genuinely nice rather than always on their toes about rates and popularity and competitivity. It was a matter of perspective and experiences, he supposed. And it seemed he'd supplied a good one, luckily.

His smile only widened as he finished talking. "It's entirely my pleasure. For anything and everything, feel free to come to me."

It was at that moment that the director and the rest of the main creative crew walked in- they'd clearly had their own coffee date, and they all seemed rather cheery. So the production was probably going to be a rather pleasant one to work on, huh. No conflict that he could see- not from the get-go. That was a huge plus, frankly. The first speeches boiled down to a lot of nothings: "Good morning, pleased to meet you," "Thank you for having us," "Thank you for coming," "We are very happy to be here," blah blah blah.

A round of introductions followed and he was, of course, the one to start. In cases like this, brevity was indeed the soul of wit.

"I'm Ohshiba Kousuke, I'll be playing the role of our teacher, Yoshiki, though I can assure I have as much to learn from you as you do from me," he announced as he rose from his seat. "I'll be looking forward to working with you as well as getting to know you all. If you ever need anything of me, all you need to do is ask." The short speech was met with the customary round of applause, a surprisingly tame: "Wow," from Tsunehito and, finally, silence. And the beginning of Masahiro's turn to speak up.

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

He wasn't quite sure what to think of Kousuke's explanation that no, these people really weren't on quite as friendly terms as they all appeared to be. Was this part of being an actor? Faking not just greetings, but friendship? Was that what Kousuke had meant when he said they would end up being friends? And if that was the case, why did it sting so much to realize it? It wasn't as though they really knew each other yet. Even if all they ended up having were these all too polite and enthusiastic conversations that he was watching the others in the hall have, he couldn't really fault the man. It wasn't a requirement for him to genuinely like his co-star... just to seem as though he did.

Trying not to worry over the possible half-hearted offer of friendship, Masahiro focused on the group as Kousuke led him forward with a gentle touch on his shoulder. It was just as warm as it had been during the audition when it had rested on his head instead of his shoulder. He tried not to think about it or the fact that it was most likely just as much an act as the touch at the audition had been. Kousuke was most likely leading him forward this way to show off some kind of united front before the rest of the cast, letting them all know that they were the two leads. But damn... it really did sting.

When they were close enough, someone called out to Kousuke and the entire tone of the group shifted. It went from friendly greetings and chatter, to silence, to complete chaos in under a minute. The nonsense that the man spewed without seeming to think about anything was confusing and alienating. Obviously he and Kousuke were close with the way they ribbed each other, and it was enough to make Masahiro wish he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. As long as he didn't have to watch the single person he knew get snatched away and leave him to fend for himself.

But then, somehow, it got worse. When the man finally took notice of him, he blurted out something so ridiculous that it had Masahiro freezing on the spot. Cheating?! Did they have that kind of relationship? Did it look like he and Kousuke did?! What about him had given off that sort of vibe? Just the hand on his shoulder that Kousuke had already, regrettably, dropped?

After Kousuke introduced him, Masahiro tried to smile, but his inner turmoil twisted it into more of a grimace.

"You must be a friend of Ohshiba-san's," he said with as much politeness as he could muster. "It's nice to meet you. I guess if you're here, it means you are on the cast?"

It was awkward and stilted, he knew, but he also didn't want to alienate himself any further by asking what in the hell was up with this guy. He would just hope that whatever the deal was between him and Kousuke, the misunderstanding would be cleared up. It wouldn't really be helpful if everyone thought he got the role because he was somehow, impossibly, Kousuke's lover. Not that anyone should think that. Just... look at the two of them. Kousuke was gorgeous, a work of art just standing still in the hallway. Masahiro on the other hand... well, he couldn't lie to himself. Even if he had the money for fancy haircuts and nice clothes and didn't dye his hair in his kitchen sink, no one was going to look at him with any level of attraction. It just wasn't who he was.

"Um, Ko-... Ohshiba-san," he corrected himself, not wanting to seem overly friendly when his actual friend had suggested they might have something going on, "I think I'll head into the meeting room. You should catch up with your friend."

[kouslut]

Masahiro wasn't being that obvious, to be fair, but Kousuke could still see far too well that Tsunehito's sudden appearance hadn't earnt him any points with the guy- actually, fuck, hopefully that grimace wasn't actually for him also. He was going to have to fucking shake his friend as soon as he'd actually get him alone- why was he the only one who cared about at least appearing decent to others? And Christ, he'd not have minded at all if not for Masahiro's sudden awkwardness. They were like that, after all, he and Tsunehito. Two fucking morons who hardly ever made sense whenever they ended up together, the one and only case of two brains being far, far worse than one.

But Kousuke had set himself an objective for the day, for some reason- some reason being that he admittedly really fucking cared that everything went smoothly for the newbie, since he seemed so... well, young. In need. Not necessarily helpless, just- for once actually genuine in his intention and in need of guidance. And actually being friendly with him was going to help with that. What he certainly hadn't needed was Tsunehito's intervention and- he knew. Of course he knew, he's have said that about anyone and everyone, but right then and there his normally funny joke hadn't landed. Not for Masahiro. And that was... painfully evident.

... Still, it wasn't like he was actually angry, just-

"Guilty as charged," Tsunehito piped in response to the boy's stilted question, eagerly moving in closer to the source of it as he pulled on Kousuke's own jacket. "You might even call me his bestie. His worstie. The love of his-" The man didn't even try to hide the kick to the other's shin. There really was no other way to make the guy shut up- plus, he knew full well that he didn't actually dislike it. Maybe that was the worst part of it, in this particular instance. "Agh-" Tsunehito whined, then readily resumed his little theatre. "I'm in the cast too, yeah. I mean, Kou's in this, I couldn't say no."

All Kousuke could really do was stare at his friend. Indeed, how could he have forgotten? They both got kicks out of being a complete pain in the ass to the other. After the shit he'd pulled on a great deal of occasions, he couldn't actually complain. There was just a very obvious reason as to why reading Hojou Tsunejito's name on the actor list had made him wince and Shirou laugh like a madman. Friends and work did not mix- not the friends he actually spent time with. And if he was having a rough time...

Masahiro began to excuse himself. Entirely out of stubbornness, Kousuke made a poor attempt at salvaging the whole thing.

"Ah, wait, you don't actually need to go, this can-" "No, he's right!" Tsunehito interrupted, as loud as ever, leaning his head on his shoulder without much regard for anything. "We do need to catch up. I haven't seen you in..." "Like three days," Kousuke hissed in response. "Not counting texting, can you just-" "Don't you love me anymore?" the other insisted, giggling victoriously as he kept delivering his usual spiel with the same overdramatic flare as always.

God, he wished he didn't love the guy. Thankfully for him, everyone knew him well enough from his streaming ventures to expect him to act just like that. And nobody actually thought anything of it. Nobody except Masahiro, who- ... Had definitely fled out of sheer embarrassment.

"Ugh, nice going, asshole," he whispered venomously to his friend. "So you do like him," Tsunehito instantly teased. "I think he might die if I don't do something," Kousuke replied, shaking his head. "He's actually never acted before-" "What's it to you?" Tsunehito shrugged. "If he's bad he'll get recast." Kousuke frowned. "He's not bad, just-" The other smirked, like he'd won a nonexistent argument. Fucker. "Then you don't actually need to worry," he stated matter-of-factly. "Or should I tell Ken that you miss being a big brother- Actually, I can be your baby if you-" "Yeah, we're done," Kousuke dismissed him finally. "Going in for the briefing." Tsunehito laughed. "Beer after this?" he called after him. Kousuke only waved his hand in response- of course it was a yes.

Walking into the room, he found Masahiro standing around the horseshoe shape of the desks and chairs, where some actors and crew members had already settled, chattering among themselves. The director, writer and producer had yet to show. Still, as expected, the boy couldn't have known where to sit. ... And that was just why he was needed. He did not, in fact, have a fucking nurse complex, please and thanks. He just wanted to be a good senpai. For a change.

Kousuke headed towards an evidently fidgety Masahiro, and gently tapped his shoulder to call for his attention. "Co-lead," he spoke just low enough for others in the room to not hear. "You sit to my right." Then he averted his gaze. "Tsu- Hojou's like that," he tried to excuse. "Sorry about him. But you have official permission to ignore him."

[shoujo-brain-masahiro]

"Ah, still..." he managed to murmur, though his head was spinning with what was about to come.

Everyone was coming, not just main cast and the director, but everyone involved in the production. How many people would that be? How many actors had so much more experience and ability than him would be watching him, wondering how this nobody landed a main role? Would anyone be willing to really give him a chance? Even if he knew this was a role he could play, as the emotions of the audition had come so easy to him, no one else knew what to expect from him. What if he was too polite and rubbed them the wrong way just as he had Kousuke only a few minutes before?

His hands began to shake as the panic bubbled up inside him. Swallowing it down, he forced himself to remain calm and collected to anyone watching him. He reminded himself that he had been cast for a reason, that out of all the young actors that had auditioned for this role, he had gotten it. Obviously there was something he could do, that he had done, that had been right. Taking solace in that, he took in a breath and then let it out with measured slowness.

As he took the bottle that Kousuke offered, he heard a gradual murmuring noise beginning to rise from down the corridor. Looking toward the source, he realized that the rest of the cast and crew was beginning to arrive and congregate inside and outside of a door just down the hall. Masahiro assumed it was the room where they would all be gathering for the first real day of production.

He could do this. It was just a job, after all. Even if it required a lot more social graces than he usually needed, all he had to do was remain polite, professional and willing to do what was asked of him. He was good at that last part especially. Nothing was too demeaning if it meant he could keep a roof over his head and food in his belly.

"It looks like it's a pretty good sized group. Is this normal for a drama?"

He had no way of knowing how many were actors and how many would be working behind the scenes, but as people kept trickling down the hall toward the meeting room, he had to wonder just how big the cast really was. Surely when Kousuke said 'minor roles' he didn't mean all the extras too? But, maybe he just didn't understand how large a cast could be. It wasn't as though he was familiar with what a standard group would even look like. Maybe this was the average group?

"I guess the acting world is smaller than I thought," he heard himself continuing, almost out of awe at what he was watching. "Everyone seems to know each other."

It was already beginning... the feeling of being on the outside looking in. Before he had even been handed his script he was connecting with his character. He laughed, a bit dryly, and thought to himself "Well, Makoto, looks like you and I have our work cut out for us."

[kouslut]

Kousuke didn't need to check on the crowd that had formed around the door to their meeting room to know that a sizeable portion of the attendees had already arrived. They were being quite loud, after all, getting the first round of greetings going, all acting pleased and excited to be on the team, all smiling and chatting away. The knowledge that he'd have normally already been in the mix, that he'd have been the first one to act overly friendly to some complete stranger he'd have called a friend for the sake of setting a good mood for everyone, was a rather strange one to have weighting on his mind. He could hear it, the laughter, the chatter, the nothings being thrown around, the pleasantries and straight up lies. He found that part of him was aching to stroll up to the group and bask in the admiring looks. The other part of him, the one he could have very well referred to as the sane one, was quite happy where it was.

It made sense. It wasn't like he was being antisocial, after all: he'd started mingling already, if only not in the usual way. There would have been plenty of time to get properly acquainted with everyone on the cast and crew- he could pass, for once, on doing his best to ensure he was the most likeable from the very start. He'd take his spotlight in due time. For the moment being, he certainly didn't regret having made the choice to pass that time he had before showtime would start with Masahiro. He was the co-star. Kousuke was hardly skipping out on his job, though maybe he hadn't made that choice with that in mind, to start with.

Watching the boy, listening to his first gasp of awe at the first hint of the magnitude of what he'd just gotten himself caught up in, it imbued him with a peculiar sense of peace, and a pull to somehow be a proper guide and make himself useful. Maybe he just reminded him of Ken, his younger brother. Maybe he just reminded him of himself, from a time his mind couldn't quite bring to the forefront of his memories.

It was a sizeable group, indeed. One that would have intimidated just about anyone who hadn't been expecting to see that many people- or anyone who was going to have to make a show of his abilities in front of all of them as their first test. He admittedly felt for Masahiro, in that sense. But he'd been on board with his casting from the start, if only for silly reasons, and, regardless of how things would play out, he wasn't going to let anyone leave the briefing with the impression that any of that had been a mistake. It would have been a personal and professional failing, one he wouldn't have tolerated of himself. It would have maybe left him feeling rather bad, too.

With a soft smile, and his can of coffee properly settled in his hands to warm his cold fingers, he positioned himself to the boy's side, and answered his rhetorical question. "Seems like way too many, doesn't it?" he started, chuckling. "But we really do just have everyone who is a recurring character and representatives from all departments involved in the production. It's about what you'd expect from a high-budget drama, yes." Tilting his head towards the other, he added what he thought could feel like reassurance. "Most have seen one another in passing, or have worked together before- or even only know others by fame," he explained quietly. Then he put a hand on the other's shoulder to lead him towards the group as he himself headed there. "But you're hardly a stranger yourself, no? You can claim to know me."

The crowd took no time at all to notice them- rather, someone did, and called out his name, and caused everyone to turn and look. As nice as it might have been to even think that the reason behind that was that his fame had grown to the point that even just his name was enough to make entire... hallways fall into reverent silence, the reason why everyone stopped and stared was-

"Kou!"

The fact that the person calling was possibly the loudest one to ever walk the poor face of the planet. Even still, he could hardly stifle a laugh. Something told him that actually keeping a grip on appearances wasn't going to be easy, not with Tsunehito around, of all people.

"Good morning, everyone," Kousuke elected to respond, making his greeting more of a universal one. He wasn't about to ignore all the other people in the room- unlike his friend. "It'll be a pleasure to work with you all." His soon-to-be coworkers were quick and polite to return the pleasantry, to which he only nodded his head in acknowledgement, and smart enough to wait for the insane guy to have had his turn before they tried to make any conversation with him. Good for Masahiro, Tsunehito's presence was going to smoothen tension like a charm. The downside, of course, was that the guy was... well, himself.

"Kou!" Tsunehito repeated, readily jumping towards him to make their duo into a trio and slap Kousuke's back with way more force than would have strictly been necessary. "I was waiting for you, I was sooo afraid you wouldn't show." "Frankly," the man began, letting go of the boy's shoulder at last and lowering his voice to allow himself a little more colour in his tone. "I figured you were going to be late. Did Ayaka kick you out early or did a miracle actually happen?" "Rude!" his friend instantly bit back. And instantly let the dramatics loose, as expected. Really, Tsunehito should have been the actor, between the two of them, since he enjoyed it that much. "I was excited to see you, I'll have you know. I thought you'd be, too. Yet here you are, cheating on me with..."

Tsunehito tilted his head. And finally, finally took proper notice of Masahiro. Unfortunately.

"Is he an actor also? I didn't think you were into-" Kousuke didn't lose a single instant, and shut his friend up with an elbow to his ribs. He doubted anyone saw that- and Tsunehito acted insane enough on his own for his cry to go mostly unnoticed. That and his evident delight despite the violence just enacted upon him. Because of it. Fucking weirdo that he was. And fucking weirdo that he himself was for liking him as much as he did.

"He is, in fact," the man responded with a now irritated smile. "Meet Setagawa Masahiro. He'll be co-starring in the show."

[mugiwaramemes]

D-DAY ( 2023 ) SENTENCE STARTERS

taken from agust d's 2023 album d-day. some lyrics have been slightly altered. feel free to change things as needed.

“ the future's gonna be okay. ”

“ karma's gonna be coming back for me. ”

“ what are you afraid of? ”

“ could you consider that freedom? ”

“ maybe we do it to ourselves. ”

“ don't get swept away by this tsunami. ”

“ i don't know what's important. ”

“ check your shit first. ”

“ what do you need to say? ”

“ a whole lot of things happened back then. ”

“ i don't know why things are so hectic. ”

“ please save me. ”

“ is all this countless suffering for my own good? ”

“ could this be love? ”

“ relationships are really difficult. ”

“ it's hard to recall the glorified times. ”

“ what is it that makes you so sad? ”

“ i'm always the loser. ”

“ if you can't hold it back, it's okay to cry. ”

“ you're already more than enough to be loved. ”

“ i'm not interested in facts, if you're not on my side. ”

“ you're all my enemies. ”

“ don't laugh at me. ”

“ how dare you look at me? ”

“ what's the point of us fighting? ”

“ i'm always here, so don't worry too much. ”

“ don't be as miserable as me. ”

“ it's okay if it's too much for you, you can take a little rest. ”

“ you are no different from anyone else. ”

“ i'll cheer you on any time. ”

“ i'm leaving, bye. ”

“ if you're afraid to crash, i'll willingly receive you. ”

“ that might happen to you someday. ”

“ everything will be okay. ”

“ don't blame anyone. ”

“ fortunately, our relationship hasn't changed. ”

“ i'm still scared. ”

[receiptsofwhiskey]

Send me a very scandalous rumor about my muse to see how they would react.